The Last Supper

If you knew your next meal was to be your last, what would you choose to eat? That’s the question that I’ve been asking myself all week. It’s probably something that most Americans never consider. After all, we live in a society where food is no longer a necessity, at least not in the same way that our ancestors regarded it. People often throw around phrases like “I’m so hungry!” or “I’m starving!” I know I have from time to time. But I’ve never actually been starving; hungry, maybe, but most likely just craving. And not even craving “food” in general, but specific foods, delicious foods—typically things that contain vast amounts of sugar and salt and gluten. And I’ve almost always had the fortunate opportunity to have these foods in front of me as soon as the craving came on. I needed only to open the refrigerator or walk down the street or pick up the phone. But all of that is about to change. And that’s why I need to figure out what I want to eat for my last meal.

          

I’ve been poisoned. Toxins have entered my body. They have horrible names like monosodium glutamate, sodium benzoate, and methylene chloride, to name just a few. I mean, would you willingly put something called methylene chloride into your body? Unless you live under a bridge and collect cans for a “living,” your answer is probably no. But I’ve been ingesting these chemicals and hundreds of others like them for a very, very long time—ever since I started eating. At this rate, leading medical professionals give me only fifty, maybe sixty more years to live, tops. I can’t accept that. Aint nothing in this world gonna kill Jon Penfold in eighty years! They say that somebody in my generation will live to be 200 years old, and I intend to be that person. But before that can happen, I need to find the antidote for all the poisons I’ve been consuming for the last 31+ years. That’s where Dr. Axe comes in.

            Dr. Axe sounds like the name of a superhero. Or a super villain. I haven’t decided yet. On one hand, he claims that if I follow his 28-day “Secret Detox” I will master my metabolism and boost my energy, and who wouldn’t want to boost their energy? It will “change your life,” he claims.  On the other hand, he’s telling me that for the next four weeks I can’t eat any of the foods that I’ve grown to love—pasta, pizza, ice cream, bread, etc.—pretty much all of my favorite things. I will be on strict diet of organic, non-GMO vegetables, grass fed, free range meat, and raw dairy. I will also have to twice daily consume a “secret” detox drink that is so secret that a Google search of “Dr. Axe’s secret detox drink” turns up absolutely no recipes. Not a single one. Don’t even try it. It’s such an underground secret that only people as privileged as myself are permitted to know its ingredients. I’m serious—don’t Google it! It’s a secret Goddamn it!

            For those of you who regularly read my blog, I know exactly what you’re thinking: The guy who just last week ate a dozen donuts in a matter of hours suddenly decides he’s a health nut? (see: A Baker’s Dozen) Well, to be honest, the donuts played a large part in my decision to detox. I’ve accomplished many eating challenges in my life, but this time the donuts seemed to push me over the edge. I didn’t feel right for days afterward, physically or mentally. I began to seriously question my lifestyle choices. That’s when my girlfriend introduced me to Dr. Axe. The detox was recommended to her as a treatment for her Crohn’s Disease—a digestive disorder that effects roughly a half-million people in North America. And since it would have been nearly impossible for her to detox while her boyfriend sat in front of her eating plates full of pasta and bowls full of ice cream, I decided that it would be in our best interest if I joined her on this journey. Plus, it gave me a great a topic to write about for this blog—what would I eat for my last meal? And for a subsequent post four weeks from now—what it’s like to detox.

           

My last meal would be more appropriately described as my last week of meals, for just about everything in my kitchen contained ingredients that I would not be allowed to have during the detox, and heaven forbid I throw anything out. So, I ate it. I ate it all. Well, as much as I could—pasta, peanut butter, ice cream, chips, more pasta, more ice cream. Some people would try to wean themselves off of the foods they were accustomed to eating. I did just the opposite. Since I knew the detox was fast approaching, I gorged myself on all the foods I knew I would miss the most—mostly cheeseburgers, ice cream, and beer. A lot of beer. I must have gained five pounds in less than a week. But even after shoving junk food down my throat for seven consecutive days, I wanted my last meal to be special.

            

It has long been a custom for prisoners to receive a last meal before their execution. The practice dates back hundreds of years, as a truce of sorts, to prevent the condemned from returning as a ghost and haunting his executioner. The better the food, the least likely the prisoner’s spirit would return. Such a superstition might seem ridiculous today, but at the time they probably figured: why take the chance? Somehow the tradition stuck and even the worst criminals—even those who committed the most horrific of crimes— get to choose their last meal. John Wayne Gacy chose shrimp, KFC chicken, French fries, and strawberries. Timothy McVeigh had mint chocolate-chip ice cream. In Texas in 2011, Lawrence Russell Brewer requested two chicken fried steaks, a triple cheeseburger, a cheese omelet, a bowl of okra, a pound of barbequed meat, a loaf of white bread, three fajitas, a meat-lover’s pizza, ice cream, fudge, and three root beers. When they brought the food to him he said he wasn’t hungry and refused to eat any of it. What a jokester! The state of Texas immediately abolished all last meal rights. Just another example of how one bad person can ruin something for everyone.

           

Some people will ask: How can you compare going on a 28-day detox to someone receiving a last meal before being put to death? And I will answer by saying that those prisoners actually had it easier—they didn’t have to spend four weeks watching others eat all the delicious foods that they love. They got their last meal and then said goodbye. I will continue to be tempted by commercials on TV and advertisements on billboards. I will still have to walk past restaurants and attend social events where people are shoving delicious-looking things down their throats. The foods I want to eat but can’t are literally everywhere. I can smell them as I type this. And what if this detox thing works and I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my life, and I decide that eating healthy is going to be lifelong commitment? Then this really will be my last meal.

            It was not an easy decision. There are so many foods that I am truly passionate about—so passionate that I would go as far as using the word “passionate” when describing them. In the end I ended up choosing Pizza with ranch dipping sauce, garlic sticks with marinara, Pepsi, Beer, and chocolate ice cream topped with whipped cream (And yes, I felt horrible afterward). If you knew your next meal would be your last, what would you choose? (Feel free to comment below)