Yesterday, I made the bestest breakfast in the world. I fried up three sausage patties, six slices of bacon, and two eggs over easy. Then I added two pieces of toast, slathered in enough butter so that it seeped through to the back of the bread.
In an expert’s opinion, it’s not a real healthy breakfast.
One could even argue that it’s worse for me than my usual Pop Tart ensemble .
I’m not sure which way I’d go on that. One breakfast is nothing but sugar while one consists of a week’s worth of fat.
Calorie-wise, the Pop Tart breakfast wins. Hands down.
But I tell you one thing. I didn’t eat but once more yesterday because the pork and eggs breakfast filled me up good. So if you count the calories for a full day, the “un-healthier” breakfast may have been better for me.
I can rationalize anything.
Such as, have you noticed pork is a natural laxative? Not more than thirty minutes after finishing breakfast, I had to go #2.
Not the #2 where you barely have time to read a grocery store ad. It was the #2 where you have time to read a whole chapter in the book you’re reading. Not a long chapter, one of those good chapters that last just long enough to make you want to read another chapter.
And not to get graphic, but my #2 was nice and easy. Relaxing, even.
And you know something else about making bacon and sausage on a weekend morning? There’s no substitute for that wonderful aroma that lingers in the house all day long. I ought to invent a pork air freshener.
In my defense, the toast was whole wheat.