Back Home Again in Indiana
I forget where I saw the 8 Minute Memoir, but it seemed like a good writing exercise so I figured I’d jump on board. I’m incredibly behind and have no idea when/if I’ll finish it. Such suspense!
Before Michelle Obama showed up to give us all #armgoals, the inmates were running the asylum that was school lunch. We demanded chocolate milk, we got chocolate milk; we demanded to add on a cookie the size of our head, we got to add on a cookie the size of our head. And that was just elementary school. Once we hit middle school it was game over – instead of the school lunch of the day, we went for the slice of Pizza Hut cheese pizza with fries and a milkshake on the side. It’s a miracle any of us made it out of that building under 900 pounds (youthful metabolism is a powerful thing). And to be honest, I miss it.
I don’t miss the industrial food, but I do miss the freedom of eating whatever you wanted without consequences (other than having to explain to your mom why your lunch card is out of money long before it should be). Somewhere along the line we learned about things like muffin tops and eating disorders and it became a contest to see who could eat the least. A little further down the line we learned about things like cholesterol and diabetes. And now instead of pizza for dinner and leftover pizza for lunch, I’m over here with pizza for dinner and a salad for lunch.
I’d be lying if I said I was mad about that salad since it turns out I feel better when I actually eat some vegetables instead of straight grease. But I’d still take the Bolingbrook High School taco bar over it. . .and I wouldn’t say no to a pizza boat.