To ranch or not to ranch, that is the question

Whether ’tis nobler in the flesh to suffer

the lettuce and carrots of outrageous tasting salad,

Or take arms against a sea of health,

And by apposing, add dressing. To add dressing, to saturate in calories;

No more; and to saturate in calories we say start

The heartburn and thousand extra pounds

This flesh is air to – ’tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish’d. To eat, to indulge;

To indulge, perchance to bloat. Ay, there’s the rub,

For in that bliss of indulgence what ills may come,

When we strive to shuffle off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause. There’s the respect for the calamity of the under-healthy,

For who would bear the whips and scorns of health,

The under filling calorie, the proud mans vitamins,

The pangs of despised saturated-fats, the calorie burnings delay,

The insolence of sodium, and the spurns

That patient granola bar that th’ health-conscious takes

When he himself might his life prolong

With a pure pear? who would truly bear,

To grunt and sweat striving for their health,

But that dead of something after the hospital,

That undiscovered ward from who visits,

No man returns, puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those salads we have

Than to add to them what we know not of?

Thus salad doth make cowards of us all,

And thus the native shade of the lettuce

Is smeared all over with the pale ranch dressing,

and enterprises of great sodium and calories

With this regards our health deteriorates,

And loses the name of benefits.