Last week, our gym challenged the folks there to take pictures of the food we ate and review it with our trainers. Thus, began my foray into food photojournalism. I took pictures of plate lunches filled with smoked turkey and cucumber salad, afternoon snacks of chocolate flavored protein smoothies, and boring breakfast of greek yogurt dusted with the most miniscule amount of granola, just enough to make the yogurt palatable. I neglected to take a picture of the enormous bowl of buttery microwave popcorn I had one night while watching Project Runway or the two bites of peach cobbler I stole off the counter at my Moma’s house. Go figure.

One night during the week, we had a family dinner at my parent’s house. After fixing my plate, I headed into the dining room where my twelve-year-old nephew was already going to town on a piece of steak. I pulled out my iPhone and took a picture of my plate filled with an eyeballed six-ounce portion of filet mignon, sautéed yellow squash fresh from someone’s garden down the road, mixed greens dotted with itty bitty grape tomatoes, and just a dab of horseradish sour cream, the perfect compliment to a juicy steak.

As the flash on my phone snapped, my nephew looked at me disgusted and said, “Please tell me you are not posting that on Facebook?” I explained to him what was going on at our gym and he sighed, “Thank goodness, those people that post pictures of food on Facebook are weird and you are weird enough, already.” I rolled my eyes as he snickered and commenced to eating the steak on his plate like a lion who had just run down an antelope. Facilitating the middle east peace talks probably takes less patience than teaching teenage boys proper table manners.

I continued to documents my food that week but under no circumstance did I post it on Facebook. I had been guilty of that in the past and could no way risk my teenage nephews thinking I was any less cool than they already did. The comments by my blonde haired, basketball loving, dare-devil with a bicycle nephew made me really notice all the food on Facebook. My goodness, if I made that Banana Pudding Poke Cake every time it appeared as I scrolled through my timeline, the cashier at the grocery store would think I was running the Nashville Zoo. Let’s not forget all the breakfast casseroles out there either. There’s about fourteen of them circulating, one where you take a few pounds of sausage, a couple of slabs of bacon, shred a block or two of Velveeta cheese, whisk with a dozen or so eggs, pour in a 9 x 13 casserole and top with frozen biscuits. You can hear your arteries clog as you swallow this greasy gooey concoction.

It’s not bad enough, I am bombarded by food as I watch TV or drive down the road passing fast food place after fast food place. Now, Facebook has become a virtual cookbook filled with pictures of delicious cakes, pies and crockpot meals. For the love of all things good and holy, give it rest with the recipes, Facebookers.

Can’t we go back to the good old days of Facebook before all the recipes? You know, when it was just juicy gossip, political bashing and ever-changing relationship statuses.

James 1:3 Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.

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