by Nicky Drayden
I stare at my sleek, new veggie spiralizer with disdain. It's a simple contraption--dual funnels attached at the narrow ends, with severely sharp blades tucked inside, promising to turn any vegetable into long strings of gluten-free goodness. But I don't care how much meat sauce I dump on it, there's no way zucchini noodles will satisfy me like the hearty chew of durum wheat spaghetti.
Effin' Paleo diet.
I insert my firm zucchini into the dark hole, and with each twist of my wrist, I cuss my doctor, cuss my waning willpower, cuss that perky receptionist at work who told me how she never craves bread anymore, not even a little bit, and kept raving over how this veggie spiralizer would "open up a whole new world of pasta-bilities." I say an extra cuss for her.