Confessions from the 'Spicy Chicken Man'

When you can walk into a fast-food restaurant, and you don't even have to order because you've been there so often that the staff already knows what you want, it's pretty pathetic.

But alas, that is what my life has become. And I have come to realize that I have a pretty horrible diet.

It's starts with the fast-food restaurants. I probably eat fast food four-five times a week. Of course, it's probably wrong to say "fast-food restaurants," for there is really only one that I go to. In fact, I always order the exact same thing.

My order of choice is a spicy chicken sandwich, with a side of fries and a Coke. At $3.71, it's a deal that's tough to beat. And nutrition-wise, it could be worse. At least it's chicken, generally considered a little healthier than beef.

Still, when you're known in some circles as the "spicy chicken" man, you've got to start questioning your dining decisions.

But it doesn't stop with the fast food. There's also the chimichangas. My preferred weapon-of-choice in the chimichanga battlefield is a specific frozen brand available at a local grocery store. I probably pick up at least two of these a week, sometimes more. It's a perfect meal choice for me when I need to eat on the run, which seems to happen more often than naught when shuttling two kids between various activities throughout the week.

Aside from the spicy chicken and the chimichangas, my main vice is Mountain Dew. I usually go through two a day. I prefer the 16-ounce bottles, which offer a nice middle-ground between the puny 12-ounce cans and the caffeine-overdose 20-ounce convenience store bottles. Of course, I've heard all the horror stories about the havoc Mount Dew wreaks on your body, but it doesn't matter — I'm an addict, a complete slave to the Dew.

It's not that I never eat vegetables, mind you. We're usually able to squeeze in a few sit-down meals a week at home, and we almost always have a vegetable side dish of some kind. And every Wednesday I hit the salad bar during my Kiwanis Club meeting, though I probably douse my lettuce with enough shredded cheese and ranch dressing to negate most of the nutritional value.

Luckily, I seem to be blessed with a metabolism that generally allows me to eat this way while maintaining a reasonably smallish physique. That said, it's worth noting that at present, I am roughly 20 pounds heavier than I was when I got married, and close to 40 pounds heavier than I was in high school — with the same height. Needless to say, I was quite the beanpole, and it's not entirely bad that I have bulked up a little.

But it's also true that the numbers on the scale have been creeping steadily higher the last couple of years, enough so that the thought has crossed my mind that maybe I ought to change my eating ways.

But here's the problem with that: I like my food too much. Honestly, as pathetic as it might sound, eating a pile french fries is sometimes one of the highlights of my day. And nothing beats a Saturday afternoon with a good ball game and a yummy chimichanga. Even among leisure-time activities, going out to eat is one of my favorite things to do. There's nothing much better than a really good meal — a big juicy steak with a side of cheddar biscuits, or smoked-to-perfection barbecue ribs, or zesty chicken fingers dipped in ranch dressing — I'm getting hungry just thinking about it.

So for now, I don't see the point in changing my ways. Yes, I have a bad diet. So sue me.

There will come a time in my life when I can't eat this way. I know this. But that day isn't here yet, so I plan to enjoy my culinary hedonism while I still can.