Words for My Enjoyment

If I Ate Bugs

June 25th, 2005

If I ate bugs, my life would be different.

No longer would I be known for my writing and my humor and my humour (UK-based) and my blog and the way I wear my hair when I’m feeling a little bit tacky. No longer would I be lauded for my talents or my ability to gleek or my friendships or my barbecue’ing skills.

I would be known as the guy who eats bugs.

“You knew that Paul eats bugs, didn’t you?”
“He would rather eat bugs than pizza!”
“Well, they do say that bugs are full of protein!”

No longer would I shake someone’s hand for the first time after just meeting them via a mutual friend and my mutual friend would say, “Yeah, he’s a writer.” Instead, they’d point out that I’d been eating bugs since I was 12 and that no, it isn’t some kind of David Blaine living in a plexiglass box above London kind of publicity stunt. Instead of telling this new acquaintance that I can run the 100 yard dash in less than 30 seconds they’d probably mention how crickets are my favorite while ants are my least favorite.

I would be known as the guy who eats bugs.

For birthdays and holidays my presents would be themed to the world of insects. I’d get hats affixed with mesh face coverings. I’d get t-shirts with text logos that would read “Don’t Bug Me, I’m Eating!” and more often than not instead of getting deoderant or hairspray — I’d get bug repellant and Deep Woods OFF.

But would being known as the guy who eats bugs really bug me?

I’ve never been one to shy away from controversy. I’ve never been one to run from conflict. I’ve never been the kind of guy to be afraid to sing the praises of my unique and scary food choices. And if I was known as the bug guy, things wouldn’t be any different.

Business dinners might be tough, though.

Posted under What If. |