The Globe & Mail columnist, whom I rarely read when I subscribed to her paper and even less now, is the mistress of facile observations and dim-witted generalizations. Maggie has determined that the HarperCons moved *left* in support of Stevie Spiteful's dream of turning Canada sharply to the right. She obsesses about "fat girls" as she watches the CBC program Village on a Diet.
Today she moans and groans about the fact she doesn't and won't cook healthy meals to save her life, and she includes us all in her we-eeeeeaning diatribe.
Just speak for yourself, Mags. Don't include everyone in your confessional glurge. Although your little trip down memory lane was fascinating and revealing - Pizza had not yet been invented when you were young? Lucky, that your G&M stipend supports your Botox™ addiction - it's a fatuous pile of regurgitated drivel.
My parents, who both worked, dished up two squares a day (three on weekends), plus school lunches for the kids. Those were the days before McDonald's, so they didn't really have a choice. Once a month, they got us takeout - an enormous treat. We ate our share of frozen fish sticks and Tater Tots, but the microwave had not yet been invented. Nor had pizza.
Thousands of people enjoy cooking meals from scratch and do it every day of the week, for themselves and for their friends and family members. I do, as well as the majority of my acquaintances. Now there's a reality to acknowledge and celebrate, even though it doesn't jibe with yours.