It would really suck to be a faux something.

With the exception of faux fur (and maybe faux leather), being faux is not, would not and will never be fun.

My parents came into town this weekend, and when my mother looked in my fridge, my eyes went straight to the faux chicken I bought as an experiment one night when I was dying of hunger.

Being a meat eater to the max, one might think that I would choose an actual meat, but no, I chose faux.

Going faux was obviously a no go, as it just sat in my fridge for 2 weeks (GROSS). It tasted like nothing. If I could describe it, I would say it tasted like rubber with chili paste and seasoned salt on top.

There are places that do faux meat correctly, but trust, I will never be doing faux chicken from a grocery store ever again.

This faux occurrence came at the right time though, making me think about some of the faux parts of my life I can and should be able to let go of. And if it takes two weeks to try it again and then finally realize it is bad for me then so be it, you know? Everything deserves a second chance, but if it is faux the second time, then it wil probably be faux the third time and the fourth time.

So, as I said, being faux would suck.


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