Chicken. Do You Eat the Skin? Do You Dare Shun the Deliciousness?
If you've ever eaten grilled chicken, and I know you have, because I know most of you personally, you know there's a decision that comes with every plate. And it ain't just a culinary decision either, it's almost a moral test, a measuring of will power with each bite.
The skin. The chicken skin. The fat-and-sodium-and-cholesterol-and-deliciousness-laden chicken skin. There's a connundrum here.
If you resist the skin, right there, at the dinner table, you become a high-performance fitness person, getting up for a morning jog at 5:30, playing Olympic handball over lunch, riding your mountain bike in the Adirondacks, and high-fiving your way to a sensible dinner, just like a person in a Michelob Ultra commercial.
If you go for the skin, you become Nero -- luxuriating on a bed of feathers, wine and delicious-chicken skin juice trailing over your lips. You're enjoying all life has to offer. Let the commoners worry about health, I've got luxuries to luxuriate in!
What do you do! Who do you want to be!