It Gets No Respect

 

 

 

 

The late Rodney Dangerfield perspired and nervously pulled at his tie, claiming he didn’t get any respect.

When in reality, Rodney’s “schtick” earned him the distinction (and money) of being one of the most successful comedians ever.

 

But this isn’t about him.

 

 

 

It is about an inanimate object who, through the course of a small shelf life, truly gets no respect.

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, I’m referring to the heel of bread.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This lack of respect begins with the name.

We carbovores can’t even agree what to call it!

Some say the “heel.”  Others the “end-bit.”  The “butt.”  The “crust.”  The “nose.”  The “knobby.”  The “stub.”

Collectively, these pseudonyms don’t project a strong sense of self-confidence.

Yet this downtrodden piece of bread is always first to greet you when the twist-tie is opened.

And leaves you with fond memories as the last piece in the bag.

 

 

 

I believe a terrible home-life is part of the problem.

 

Imagine being separated from your sibling right out of the oven!

 

 

 

 

How would you feel as the hand bypassed you each & every time in favor of a beloved middle piece?

Can you envision being labeled an outcast as one of the four basic food groups?

The heel does.

 

 

 

 

Too thin and wrinkled to put in the toaster, the butt is often delegated to being tossed into the yard like a “bread-Frisbee.”

Food for the birds.

To battle the elements alone…without the protective cover of its sack.

 

 

 

 

 

Never being good enough to make the sandwich.

 

That is the no-respect life story of the heel.