The B Word

30 Jan


Bacon stopped me from pursuing Judaism long ago.

Bacon now makes me feel guilty and just does not taste as good as it used to. I may lick the fragrant, smoky, salty grease from my fingertips, but I do not enjoy it.

Bacon and I had a last fling the first couple of weeks of the year of 2011, and since my heart was no longer into it, I was left feeling more empty than full. Dirty in ways beyond having lips rimmed in fat and splatters on my shirt.

Bacon and I are breaking up. The rest of the pig and I are breaking up, as well. And I am trying my darnedest to keep milk and meat separate. Shellfish and I have also called it quits. My attempts at being a good Jewish person are leaving broken hearts in my wake.

Bacon is the easy part. It’s easily identifiable, though I’ll need to be aware of bacon stealthily inserting itself in places. Our mutual friends – mayo, vegetables, eggs – will have to decide if it’ll be me, or bacon. It will be harder to keep an eye out for those little bits of dairy lurking in places such as bread. (For example, I made buns intended for hamburgers – note that I did not say cheeseburgers – and had to think to omit the milk in the recipe.) I will need to be vigilant and steadfast. While I will be tempted by such combinations as chicken, bacon, and cheese, I need to remember that we had our fun together. It was good while it lasted, but I’ve grown beyond it.

Bacon, as Sarah said to Jareth in Labyrinth – you have no power over me.

Bacon, we had a nice run of it. I’ll remember you fondly, and no one will ever take your place in my heart, though I may eventually take some sort of anti-cholesterol medication to eradicate the last sediments of our life together.


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