No one in America seems to understand the basic tenets of proper nutrition. Moreover, people… No one in America seems to understand the basic tenets of proper nutrition. Moreover, people don’t seem to really care. We seem to be agonizingly ignorant of even the simplest facts about nutrition. Then again, I did throw up the other day because I had eaten too much pasta the night before – so it isn’t like I can really talk.

Before this occurred, I had erroneously believed that this sort of thing only happened to dogs. Apparently I was wrong; I actually ate so much I made myself sick.

Tragically, this isn’t the first time. The first time occurred when, in a moment of hubris and passion, I devoured 12 pierogies and, again, vomited the next morning. The second time that my overindulgence resulted in me vomiting into the toilet the next day was Christmas morning, at my girlfriend’s parents’ home. The less I actually remember of this painful, noisy episode, the better. If this ever happens to you, let me give you a small hint: even if you turn on the fan in the bathroom, the people in the living room can still hear you.

The point here isn’t to embarrass myself – my headshot does that well enough – the point here is to show how little I, an average citizen, know about nutrition.

I just learned in an English class that Thomas Hobbes drew a distinction between animals and man by stating that animals eat till they’re sated, while humans are able to conceive of hunger in the future. Thus, humans should never make the mistake an animal would in assuming that the food in front of them is the last they will ever receive. I apparently do not share this trait with the rest of mankind.

However, looking around, a lot of Americans seem to have the same problem as I do. Maybe not the vomiting part, but we clearly do not have it together on the issue of food in a more general sense. Observe the absolutely crazy-looking redesigned food pyramid. It’s total madness.

What seems like hundreds of colors haunt this pyramid with its brightly colored stairs that symbolize exercise and its cheery insistence on grain for 6-12 servings a day. I don’t even know how much a serving size is, and if I did, what would I do? Start measuring my food? Weighing it like some kind of lunatic?

Seriously, how in the world is one to figure out these sorts of things? I mean, I read the nutrition labels on things when I eat them, but they always seem set for some sort of pre-determined daily caloric intake, frequently 2,000. Is that how much I consume? How much I should consume? Probably not, but how can I figure this out?

This leads me to my other problem: I’m not really sure what a calorie is. I understand it, sure, but only in a really vague way – like the way I “understand” the national trade deficit. The calorie is some sort of unit of energy that exists within foods, but what about the perplexing distinction between “calories” and “calories from fat?” I don’t think a lot of people understand stuff like this. In fact, the really fat people who sue airlines for not making the seats big enough – they probably don’t get this at all.

I guess not understanding nutrition at its technical base isn’t that big of a deal. I suppose I’ve been able to cobble together a few basic rules that seem to keep me healthy – eat meals that have several colors, avoid things that are ranch-flavored and indulge in tubular meat products with caution – but I don’t think I’ll ever understand the basic reasons why I make my decisions.

Which isn’t that bad, I suppose. I used to work with people who always claimed to be “cutting down on their carbs.” Tragically, none of these people were actually on the Atkins or South Beach diets – they simply thought carbs were what made you fat. No one actually wants to learn why things work, right? Aren’t we Americans? Learning is bor-ring. We just want to lose weight while eating bun-less hot dogs. Nobody listened to the reasons how and why the diet is supposed to work for certain people; they just occasionally ate sandwiches composed of cheese and mayonnaise wrapped around ham. And then they would eat some cake.

Perhaps hoping for a people as infamously wacky and self-absorbed as we Americans to learn something is expecting too much. Maybe I shouldn’t worry about KFC introducing their 99-cent “Chicken Snacker” sandwich as an alternative to a vending machine bag of chips. Maybe I should conveniently forget my own wicked Chik-fil-A habit.

But then again, maybe I shouldn’t. We need to become outraged, people. We need to get offended and do something. We need to work on phrases like “protein source” and “iron.”

We need to understand something about what we’re eating. That’s not too much to ask, is it? And could I have one of those French fries? If you’re done, that is. Thanks.

Kevin Sharp is thinking about going to the buffet next week. E-mail him at [email protected].