Honey buns are addictive. I fell in love with them the summer after I graduated from high school, and that thirty-eight year love affair has not cooled one degree. When I began buying those delicious snack cakes their price was cheaper and they were quite a bit larger. In fact, at that time you could get a honey bun and a soft drink to wash it down with for much less than today’s cost of just the bun.
Honey buns are loaded with fat grams and sugar—I guess that’s what makes them so good. Most of the foods I love seem to be on the government’s list of unhealthy and hazardous things we simple-minded Americans need help with since we don’t seem to have enough common sense to eat them in moderation. I’ve learned not to read the caloric intake information; it only ruins the culinary experience and then you feel guilty. I don’t, but you might. What’s that they say…a moment on the lips and a lifetime on the hips? Let’s be honest here—a honey bun every now and then won’t affect those buns of steel anyway.
One of my former pastors once said in a sermon (so it must be the gospel), “You are all going to die someday, so it might as well be the result of good food.” I took that biblical truth to heart and put it into practice. Good food is in the eye of the beholder and since I am the one who has to look at what I eat—I think I’ll be holding a honey bun every once in a while.
I know—I know…I can hear some of you thinking, “That’s not very healthy.” And yes, I have reached that age where it is important to eat healthy portions so I won’t become an unhealthy portion. My doctor’s directive was a helping is to be no larger than the palm of my hand. Guess what? The modern day honey bun fits perfectly in the palm of my hand. Perhaps that’s the reason their size has shrunk and the price has tripled. Perhaps the production costs for shrinking this gastronomic delight into a healthy portion is this industry’s gift to a healthier America.
I am conscious of my health and I do watch what I eat. That’s my responsibility so that I don’t run out of body before I run out of breath. I just don’t happen to need our government of the people, for the people, and in spite of the people telling me what or how much I can eat. Let’s face it, if you don’t have enough common sense not to purchase a Big Gulp six times a day or compulsively stop at Mickey D’s for all your meals—government intervention and prohibition will not help you anyway. Truth is, if you can’t get your food fix there, you will probably go to the Big Saver and buy a ten pound bag of confectioner’s sugar and have yourself a party on the way home anyway.
So what does all this have to do with my love of honey buns you might be thinking? Just this—if you like to dip carrot sticks in Greek yogurt and get excited by a bowl of brussel sprouts and cauliflower—then have at it. But as you shrink away to nothing and as you can watch the Feds investigate, regulate, and eradicate all the good food out of existence—just know if you live long enough your carrots, yogurt, and flower sprouts will probably be declared unhealthy as well one day, and then they too will be outlawed by the food Nazis.
So, I am faced with a dilemma. Instead of one honey bun, it now takes two to satisfy my craving due to their reduced size. What to do—what to do? Perhaps I’ll contact my senator and see how our government can get involved. Naaaah! I’ve got it! I’ll just take a road trip to Krispy Kreme and get a dozen hot and nows—all they are anyway are honey buns with holes.