Hot Dog Love

Summer's here and I have a confession to make: I love hot dogs.

There, I said it. But it's true. I love them. Though they are made from meat slurry, though they have little to no nutritional value, and though their nickname is derived from male genitalia... I. love. hot dogs.

Unfortunately, my hot dog love has always been synonymous with hot dog shame. I remember one junior high night spent at Skating Plus, our local roller rink. I had been eyeballing Kevin Norris all night, hoping he'd ask me to skate during couples' skate. I promptly forgot about Kevin, though, when the tasty, aromatic smell of hot dogs wafted my way from the snack bar. Moments later, I was engrossed in a delicious dog and oblivious to all else—including the mustard that had built up around my mouth. The mustard that Kevin pointed out between bursts of laughter when he approached me a little while later.

I'd like to think that things have changed since I was 13—that my tastes have become more sophisticated, that my choice in cuisine no longer causes me shame, that potential dates don't burst out laughing at my mustard-covered face upon approaching me.

Sadly, this is not the case. The smell of city hot dog carts still stops me in my tracks, I can't sit down at a sporting event without a dog in hand, and I maintain my yearly Costco membership for the hot dogs alone.

And so I have had to find a healthy way to live with my love of hot dogs. The solution? Ballpark Turkey Franks. The same great meat slurry taste at only 3 points. (I officially grant them permission to use that as their product tagline.) I have tried various brands of turkey dogs and this, in my opinion, is the best.


But while turkey dogs are a great Weight Watchers-friendly alternative, sometimes I still crave the real thing. So what do I do in those cases? Save up my points and indulge. After all, what's a baseball game without a hot dog?