I love chicken


I love chicken.

I didn’t always; in fact, you couldn’t pay me to eat chicken before I went away to college. Damn HBCU’s will do it to you every time… Now, chicken is one of my very favorite things. If you put a chicken dish in front of me, even if I’m not that hungry I will pick all the chicken out of it. I can’t stop myself. I have zero willpower when it comes to chicken. And yes, I realize how ignorant-ly this post is trending.

Every now and then, when I order a chicken dish in a restaurant, I let the server take my plate with a little chicken still left on it, just to prove to myself I can let it go. But it’s always painful. Last nite I ordered a chicken caesar at Applebee’s and when it looked like I was done with my salad (’cause I was done with the salad; I just wasn’t done with the chicken), my server, Hannah asked if she could clear my plate. I quickly replied, “NO!” But then I thought, “maybe I should just let her take it. It’s been a while…” I took a photo of it — so I’d never forget it — and then asked her to take it away. It’s almost 24 hours later and I’m still thinking about those three strips of chicken, but I’m glad I did what I did. It’s the proudest I’ve been of myself in quite some time.

Don’t you judge my truth.