In the past few years I have reduced meat consumption, learned to love plant-based protein (that’s you tofu), ingested fewer sweets, consumed mountains of vitamins, swallowed several daily meds, walked 5Ks, started training to run a 5K, stretched, twisted, turn, bought a bike, walked my dog, grown my own organic veggies, eaten at least one fruit a day, used essential oils for various ailments, meditated for stress reduction and stopped using poisonous hair dyes (even though it aged me 10 years). My dog Tango thinks that I really rock for all these efforts aimed to help me age gracefully.
But he knows and I know there is one food consumption habit that haunts me. I love bacon ranch dressing. We only met last year but it was love at first taste. If I put a tomato slice on a sandwich and top it with bacon ranch dressing, I have an instant BLT. When I douse a bowl of steamed potatoes and veggies, I almost believe it has real bacon in it. If I stir a little into my eggbeaters, it’s like having a bacon omelete. When I dip a jalapeno popper into a little bowl of my love, I know there is a heaven.
True, my love is full of fat and other yuckies. There are more appropriate choices for someone my age. But, why oh why can’t I have a little creamy spoonful now and then? I eat more veggies when slathered in Bacon Ranch. At some level it has to be good for me, regardless of the truth. Is it so wrong?