PETE vs FOOD

This morning I signed online and read my friend Drew’s Facebook status. In the status, he wondered if today was National Bacon Day. I, without so much as a Google search, was able to let him know that National Bacon Day is actually closer to Labor Day.

Who the fuck knows off the top off their head when National Bacon Day is!?!?!

Peter Hoare does.

My eating habits, and excuse me if I’m using the term incorrectly, suck a dick. My diet rivals that of a diabetic latchkey kid. My breakfasts look like most men’s desserts. I ordered my first salad at age 30, and hated it. If it’d make my breath minty fresh, I’d brush my teeth with fluff. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the truth. I innately love things that are god-awful for me, and if I don’t change that, I genuinely feel like my heart may explode at 35. In fact, if all of a sudden this article turns into “ruwhrgiutghiu4vg tiu4wgtiugiu43ug4”, that’s just the result of my dumb, dead head thumping down onto the keyboard.  My apologies in advance.

Now if you’ve met me, or seen any of the many erotic calendars I’ve released over the years, you know that I’m kind of a slender dude. Not skinny per say, but thin. The kind of weird skinny where you’re also simultaneously kind of fat. Unfortunately for me, sexy as that may be, being thin a healthy guy does not you make. I’ve come to realize lately that there’s simply no way that I could technically be determined as being healthy. I’d imagine at this point my blood must resemble the peanut butter sauce at Friendly’s. Is it delicious? Yes. Will it keep me alive long enough to see my grandson ride his hoverboard to the inauguration of our first black lesbian president? Presumably not.

I used to joke about this kind of stuff…until I turned 30. People ask if you feel different after turning 30. By and large, in my opinion, the answer is no. Grey hairs be damned, I'm still a large child. Always will be. And the changes that have come about, I’ve been able to embrace. But one thing that I can't wrap my head around is the fact that I absolutely HAVE to learn to eat better. I’ve had a rough time coming to terms with the fact that grown men probably don’t need their daily rocky road milkshake. I loathe the fact that baby carrots are simply not as good as Nutter Butters. Some people like doing yoga and pilates, I like doing Mallomars.  But I also like living. So, if any of you out there are anything like me, may I suggest you do what I’m doing and actually stick to a New Year’s resolution for once. I, after 30 years, am vowing to change my diet. In fact, a big reason I’m writing this is to ask for your help. If you ever hear me ordering extra bacon on something, you have full permission to immediately kick me in the junk. That kind of stuff can only help.

Actually, what am I saying? This article is all for naught. I forgot, I’m a Mayan. I just need to make it 12 more months. To Burger King I go! Chicken fries, Dr. Pepper, Reece's Pie.

Cheers,

Peter Hoare

Twitter.com/PeterHoarejhuahefa803r8 2yr2838gheeoamnavcieewa26y391y4c2 y71r1e3c1e74c124168c4687ayuvanhalen91716161nja9a81n181n1nd98110101msaya0