feather count

I'm fairly well-adjusted in the body/food relationship department. Sure, I have my moments of guilt after a scarfing down the third piece of pizza or downing half a pint of Chubby Hubby, but in general I've always taken it in stride.

I'm not completely adjusted, I wouldn't go so far as to say that. When the co-worker with the incessant mouth must comment, "Going on a trip?" in response to seeing my Lean Cuisine for lunch, my shoulders scrunch. Excuse me? "Looks like airline food." Why men will ever find the audacity to judge what goes in my stomach escapes me.

I worked my ass off to lose 30 pounds. Yes, I keep an eye on what I put in my mouth. And yes, actually, those Lean Cuisines are paired with a normal breakfast, snacks of all varieties - good, bad, gross - throughout the day, along with a full meal and, hey!, maybe even dessert.

I've seen some - most - of my best friends struggle the demons of their eating disorders. At the least, subscribing to Weight Watchers and counting points diligently. At the most, being admitted to a hospital at a weight unhealthy to maintaining life.

But, no, NO, I do not need someone's ignorant judgements about my choice of a balanced, affordable meal.

That balanced, affordable meal brings me to the original point of this post. I've been trying to watch the cash flow lately and noticed that too many meals and coffees have been purchased when I can be more cost effective. Brewing coffee at home and grabbing a frozen meal and a banana on my way out the door even just a couple times a week can make a difference. And leftovers! I heart leftovers.

Sister Sara got a slow cooker for Christmas and the excitement she has shown in hers and renewed the interest in mine. She boasted how she stuffed a chicken with celery and herbs and when she got home from work the meat was falling off the bone. A warm, filling, satisfying winter meal. And the rosemary! How she loves the rosemary.

I set out to do the same. I cut the whole chicken from the bag and found... feathers. Small little inconsequential feathers in the grand scheme of things, I'm sure. And, no, not the first feathers I've ever seen on a chicken that I've prepared. But more than I'm used to seeing.

Which made me start pondering just what the mechanical process is for removing feathers from the bodies... and I had to stop that thought train from happening or BLEEEEECH. I get grossed out easily (the cleanliness of utensils and other surfaces is what gives me OCD, more on that later) and I could be on chicken strike for a while.

But it does beg the question, what is my feather count?