However, I cannot eat these scrumptious little cylinders of chickeny goodness. And do you know why? Because, as I write this, vegetables are having a party on my tongue. The little chunks of roasted summer squash and zucchini that came as a side dish to the taquitos have caught my eye, and I am driven to consume them. First, before the chickeny cylinders. Before the guacamole. Before the salsa. Before the Spanish rice.
How did this happen? Perhaps those people who think that gastric bypass is medically sanctioned maiming are right. I've deformed myself. I've turned myself into someone who... oh, God, it hurts to even type it... makes smart food choices. I make salads for dinner. My protein is mostly derived from grilled white meat chicken and fish and sometimes... wait for it... tofu. You're hearing this from a woman who wouldn't eat vegetables before because they were grown in dirt, and how could that be sanitary?
My taste buds have become my worst enemy. They're the ones who make me turn my nose up at the Panda Express chow mein, in favor of the steamed vegetables, and make me take the spicy garlic shrimp over the deep-fried orange chicken. They are the hosts of this tongue party, I realize. They are making me do horrible, nasty things these days. Remind me to tell you about last week's foray into lightly steamed broccoli, grilled chicken and brown rice. I can't talk about it now -- I'm still suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.
Meanwhile, the taquitos have gone cold, and are looking decidedly less appetizing. To make matters worse, I have a stomach the size of an orange, which is now full of roasted zucchini, squash and fresh salsa, and has no room for taquitos. There are starving children in South America who would love to have taquitos like this, and I've just wasted them. Taquitos don't reheat well. Damn.
I have to get back to work now, in spite of the festivities on my tongue. Lord knows how I'm going to be able to concentrate with... is that a... do I hear... a mariachi band?