by Alexandra Frisch

Upon opening my box of Little Caesar’s Bacon Wrapped Crust Deep Deep Dish pizza, the first thing I registered was overwhelming smell of high cholesterol. If  heart disease had a smell then that smell would be the grease soaked deep dish pizza wrapped in 3 ½ feet of bacon sitting before me.

With 450 calories and 23 grams of fat per slice, I could feel my arteries clogging just looking at it. Almost seconds after having picked up the first slice, I had some kind of bacon juice running down my arm. I was only halfway through the first slice when my stomach started  twisting. I hadn’t felt this sick since the time I had two funnel cakes and an entire turkey leg at the Renaissance festival, before bungee jumping.

With every bite I took I felt like I could taste the 830 milliliters of sodium and 40 milliliters of cholesterol jam packed into every slice. Two pieces in and my intestines had never felt so violated.   The best part is that the fun didn’t end just because I’d stopped eating. The accompanying heartburn and intestinal trauma lived with me hours after the pizza had been put away.

A word of advice; do not go near this pizza unless you are guaranteed direct access to a bathroom for at least six hours after eating. Never in my life have I felt so betrayed. How could pizza, of all things, leave me chained to my  bathroom for hours, cursing the day I was born? I knew we had an obesity problem in America, but this takes the American love of all thing bacon wrapped too far. Whether I like or not, this ungodly desecration of pizza will forever hold a place in my heart – permanently clogging my coronary artery.