Scales of Truth

By Jason Evans

Staff Writer



306

In many of these columns, I have cast my stomach as the villain, because it so often derails my attempts to lose weight or speaks up when I attempt to eat anything that isn't slathered in ranch dressing or Miracle Whip or both.

Sunday night, however, my stomach was actually the voice of reason.

Well, it tried.

I'd gone to Easley to do some errands and was driving back into Clemson when I decided I was hungry.

I'd been pretty good over the weekend, plus I didn't feel like cooking, so I pulled into the drive-thru at the Clemson Zaxby's.

"Thank you for choosing Zaxby's," the drive-thru girl said, "would you like to try one of our chicken finger plates?"

"No thanks" I replied, "I want a large Wings n' Things - nuclear, with an extra ranch and an extra Zax sauce."

Now, I know that a large wings and things, which includes chicken fingers, fries and Texas toast, is not the healthiest thing I could be eating.

But I think of it this way: That's a lot of food; too much to eat in one sitting if you want to lose weight so if I eat half now and half at another meal, I get two meals in one convenient Styrofoam package.

"Would you like anything to drink with that?"

"No, thank you," I said.

There was a pause as she calculated the total.

"That'll be $15.98," she said. "Drive to the window please."

As I waited in line, I struggled with the math. How did one wings and things add up to almost sixteen bucks?

Well, I did get the large. But that should only be like 2 bucks more than the regular. If up-sizing is going to add ten bucks to my price tag, then I want chicken wings the size of those brontosaurus ribs Fred orders at the beginning of every Flintstones episode.

Then I figured it out. She thought I'd said yes when she asked if I wanted a chicken finger plate. I don't know how she got "yes please" out of "no thanks" but she did.

"Okay," I thought, "I'll just tell her about the mistake when I get to the window. She can take the mistake off my ticket and give me what I actually ordered. No harm done."

Then my brain kicked in with the math.

"If you can get two meals out of one thing, then you can get four meals out of two things," it said, "you're paying more, but you're getting more value out of what you're paying for."

"Hmm, that's a persuasive argument," I said. "Okay, I'll just pay for all of it. I'll eat some today, some tomorrow at lunch, some for dinner tomorrow night and then finish it up at lunch Tuesday."

We pulled forward in the line a little bit.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," my stomach spoke up. "You haven't taken my feelings into consideration."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "You love chicken."

"There's a difference between loving chicken and wanting to consume it for the next 36 hours," it said. "There's also a difference in a stomach that's happy digesting chicken and a stomach that's suffering indigestion."

"You're right," I said. "I love chicken myself. I'm not crazy about Pepto-Bismol."

"Ugh, don't mention the pink stuff," my taste buds said. "It's like eating chalk flavored bubble gum in liquid form."

"Okay, new plan," I said. "Since I don't want to suffer through all the things mentioned in those annoying Pepto commercials I can never get out of my head, we'll just pay for what we ordered. Eat half tonight, half tomorrow."

My various body parts seemed to agree with that. We pulled up to the window.

Then my plan changed.

I'll be honest with you: The Zaxby's girl was cute. I didn't want to get her in trouble with her manager.

"That'll be $15.98," she said.

I handed over the money without a word. She handed me a large amount of chicken.

As we pulled back on to the highway, my stomach began wailing, "I'm in pain. I haven't even eaten anything and I'm in pain! Indigestion! Heartburn!"

"You can't get heartburn," I said. "It's not called stomachburn."

"I'm in pain too," my wallet said. "We are now officially broke."

I wish I could say I hadn't eaten too much. But both meals came with French fries and there's not much worse than cold soggy French fries, so I ate all of them while they were hot.

Both meals came with Texas Toast and I love that stuff too so I had two slices.

I was getting pretty full and I hadn't even eaten any chicken. Did I stop? Did I put the leftovers in the fridge?

I did not.

Several chicken fingers later, my stomach called it quits.

"I never want to see a piece of chicken again," it said.

"Well, we're having it for lunch tomorrow," I said. "We didn't eat it all. Now, what do you want for dessert?"

"Pass the pink stuff," it said.



Reach Jason Evans at jevans@theeasleyprogress.com or 855-0355.