Buttah!

Buttah
By bad-eating Emmet

I hate my doctor.
This week, He named Public Enemy Number One: butter. Number Two: bread. Number three: pasta.
Are you kidding me? This is my entire diet. I lead the nation in personal consumption of English muffins and butter. I once threw a St. Pat’s party and people planned to come dressed as English muffins before a riot (honest) postponed the affair. I have English slathered with butter while I am waiting for the coffee to brew. Then I have breakfast…with English.
You try and get as much butter on the English until it spills out of your hand onto your shirt, or keyboard. It is an art form. I buy special, delicious butter from Ireland.
Bread? I keep a frequent buyer card in my wallet from Atlantic Baking Company in Rockland. Can’t live without the multi-grain. Or wheat. Or sour dough. A lot of times I buy two and put one in the freezer. Money in the bank.
Most days I eat 6-8 pieces of bread. If you get up hungry at 3 a.m. what could be better than two pieces of toast covered with Stonewall Kitchen blueberry jam?
Pasta? I remember when pasta was considered health food. Now, it’s a bad thing? I would guess that I have consumed pasta at least 80 percent of the last 30 days. There is nothing easier, with some Rao’s sauce (I don’t care what it costs). Angel hair. Tortellini. Ravioli. Ziti. With cheese, of course. Come on.
The doc played his trump card this week. Lower that blood sugar within the next three months or face insulin and needles. As Grady Flanagan always asked “Why don’t they just finish me off?”
The question is how many years, exactly, do I want to live? What in the name of Barilla am I supposed to eat?
I brought this life-and-death problem before my personal board of directors.
My last-but-not-least daughter, Bridget is relentlessly positive. She suggested Shirataki noodles, which I had never heard of. They have “good” fiber and no “bad” carbs. As Bridge said, you can put some Rao’s sauce (don’t care what I costs) on the noodles and all will be fine.
Niece Beth offered salad as a solution. Never. Bridget forwarded a clip from (fat) comedian John Penette and his “Talks about Salad.” He shares my feelings about salad when he said, “Salad is a promissory note that food will soon arrive.” When the waiter asks what Penette wants on his salad, he usually says “Haagen Dazs.”
My kind of guy.
Bangor Tommy offered a menu of lentils for breakfast, lunch and dinner, with some quinoa for dessert. I have no idea what that is. Vermont Jon advised “eat right, get plenty of exercise, die anyway.”
Niece Debby said my doctor’s orders are a perfect reason for staying away from doctors.
My very favorite cousin, Jerry of Natick, had a simple solution.
Get a new doctor.
I will be amazed if I can get through this very day with no bread. No butter. No pasta.
Why don’t they just finish me off?