FOOD LABELS ARE MY ARCH-NEMESIS

Have you ever felt personally betrayed by the nutrition label printed on food packaging? Well I have. And, oh boy, is it ever a complicated relationship… mostly because it lies to me.

It’s both deceptive and wildly optimistic.

Look at, I mean REALLY scrutinize the bits and pieces written on all those bags and boxes and you’ll see what consistently blows my mind. It’s the insane SERVINGS PER CONTAINER.

Take for example the intended 11 servings within my 12 oz. bag of Michele’s Granola. Eleven? ELEVEN? Is it incumbent upon me to measure out 1/11^th of the bag over a period of what would be one and a half weeks?

How is that even possible?

Let’s be real… it’s more like a single serving per container and perhaps I’ll save the few precious morsels that have settled on the bottom for later. I know it, and you know it.

I kinda sorta tried to dispense the appropriate scoopfuls of what I assume to be breakfast for all those days… but really (?) microscopic portions of granola for eleven days? I was not amused; especially when I found the bag suspiciously light after just two servings.  

Subsequently spying my bag of potato chips – I was naturally curious. So I flipped it over to check out the label. The label stating 8 servings per container. Guess how many chips make up a single ‘serving’? THIRTEEN.

Hahahahehehehaheheheha!

Who is capable of stopping at just thirteen of those delightfully salted, crispy crisps of goodness? I mean those individuals are setting me up for failure.

Furthermore, in the aftermath of taking note of the ‘8 servings per container’ on my box of spaghetti was the realization that my dinner party for two had polished off the bulk of it. I didn’t know whether my pain was the result of sidesplitting laughter, a belly full of pasta, or profound blubbering.

Buon appetito? More like buon appetit-NOOOOOOOO.

While on the subject of unrealistic expectations, I outright refuse to check out the label on my tub of scrumptious cookies & cream, dulce de leche, chocolate cookie crumbs vanilla gelato. Who needs to see that?

And you best believe my rebellious efforts will continue to undermine the intent to control what I dish out at one sitting. As a matter of fact, if you think I am spooning out mere tablespoons into come kind of receptacle then you are sadly mistaken. More like: pint -> spoon -> mouth. Repeat.

With all that said, it was time to investigate. So, I dug up the dirt on who (FDA) comes up with these cockamamie numbers and how, you might ask, the serving size is determined. It’s SURVEYS. Surveys based on how much people typically eat at one time.

I’d love to see those surveys.

Look, don’t they know that ‘typical’ involves finishing entire bags and cartons and boxes while binge-watching? Show me a comprehensive list of those nibblers, grazers and ‘eats like a bird’ mortals… because they are all lying through their teeth on that exam.

As for those chips: “Oh, twelve is my limit. On a special day, I might even go up to thirteen”, said with a tone implying the listener should feel privileged to even be made aware.

LIARS.  

So next time you see an absurd serving suggestion, just laugh. Why? Because it is a delightful work of fiction. And do with it what you will. Or like me –

Eat. The. Whole. Damn.Thing.