The Saint and The Sinner

Sally Hamilton / Stock Xchng

I never cared about my health until I became a parent.  A single parent.  Knowing that my 4-year-old son relies on me for everything, I have slowly become obsessed with keeping myself alive and healthy until he is at least a self-sufficient adult.  In my efforts to be as healthy as I can possibly be, I have added regular workouts to my weekly schedule and I have revamped my diet.  Revamping my diet has included looking at the role certain foods play in my life.  Revamping my diet, therefore, has also included eliminating pork from the household menu, because foods like bacon, pork chops, and sausage aren’t things I want my son to grow a love for, only to have to turn around and tell him that they aren’t healthy and that he shouldn’t eat them.  So, there is never any pork in my house.  Ever.  I am quite proud of that.

When I’m not home, though?  I am a liar and a cheat.  I eat bacon.  Lots and lots of bacon.  I eat ham sandwiches.  I eat Pernil* during the holidays at family member’s houses but relegate my boy to eating the turkey instead (luckily for me he is still too young to notice that his mother is a raging hypocrite and we are eating different things.  At these times I am truly grateful that there is such a thing as a Kid’s Table.).

I am aware of this Pork Hypocrisy, and I wonder if it is indicative of the fact that mothers constantly straddle the line between two worlds; the world of being a parent and the world of being a woman -- an individual.  The parent in me wants to model only the behaviors that I feel most represent my beliefs about what is best in life, and what is best for my son.  The woman in me doesn’t give a damn about any of that because there is nothing that is better than the taste of crispy, salty bacon.  Nothing.  I love bacon so much that it is the taste I would like to have in my mouth when I meet my Maker.  Problem is, I am aware that eating too much of it might have me make that trip sooner than I’d like, and so I continue to perpetuate my Pork Fraud.

The Mom in my house is a lean, mean, heart-healthy machine.

The Woman out on the street is a dirty, filthy, pork-loving liar.

Never the two shall meet.  And I’m fine with that.  Absolutely fine.

*Pernil is a traditional Caribbean and Latin American dish of roasted pork shoulder infused with garlic and other spices.