Breaking the rules

My family has an unwritten breakfast rule: whenever we sit down for a morning feast the bacon must be equally distributed. Everyone knows that without bacon breakfast would not exist. In fact, all other breakfast foods are just a front for us to wake up and clog our arteries with greasy, delicious meat ripped off a pig's back.

Waffles? They're O.K. With bacon.

Pancakes? Yeah. I dig them. With bacon.

Toast? No. Not without bacon.

Get the point?

Usually, when we sit down to eat bacon...I mean, breakfast, everyone gets about three pieces of meat. Three. That is enough, but never really enough. This sometimes bothers me, but hey, it's part of family living and there is nothing I can really do about that. Or is there?

This morning my Mother woke me up to tell me she was going out. I said "But, Mom, I have the morning hungers! What's for breakfast?" she told me I would have to make my own and that she left the bacon out to defrost.

That's when it hit me: I'm in control. Three pieces? Hell no.

Long story short I cooked up an obscene amount of bacon. I ate most of it before the eggs were finished cooking and STILL had 6 pieces left on my plate. The event sounds quite uneventful, but this made me feel incredible. Staring at bacon loudly cooking in three inches of grease, I realized that pretty soon every morning would be like this. A true coming of age tale and all the bacon I want.

How empowering.
Just to clarify: don't do this. I feel terrible. Absolutely fucking terrible.