Julia Belluz(1) recently shared a story from one of Trump's books, wherein he shared a ridiculous diet. This was before his days of fast food indulgence like KFC.
As he wrote in the 2004 book Think Like A Billionaire, "You can’t just think like a billionaire; you have to eat like one, too." At that time, in the early 2000s, Trump’s chef at the Mar-a-Lago Club in Palm Beach, Florida, was Gary Gregson. Gregson kept Trump on a strict regimen. "We call it the Mar-a-Lago Diet, and if I didn’t adhere to it from time to time, my waistline would be an absolute disaster," Trump wrote.
Here’s a summary of that amazing diet:
1. It has to be served in a fantastic setting.
2. It has to look fantastic.
3. It has to taste incredible.
4. It cannot make you gain weight.
Wow, I'm surprised no one else thought of that. Trump truly is a genius.
Here’s a summary of that amazing diet:
1. It has to be served in a fantastic setting.
2. It has to look fantastic.
3. It has to taste incredible.
4. It cannot make you gain weight.
Wow, I'm surprised no one else thought of that. Trump truly is a genius.
Belluz theorizes that Trump switched from fine dining to fast food as a way to relate to the average American, who apparently spend all of their time wolfing down french fries. This would not be an uncommon tactic in politics, as all of us have seen politicians awkwardly eating local favorite dishes, always with a knife and fork even when one isn't necessary or approved (such as with pizza). However, Politico's Michael Kruse and Ruairí Arrieta-Kenna(2) have another theory.
But Trump’s germophobia goes beyond an unwillingness to shake hands—an aversion he has had to forgo during his run for the presidency. Trump is also reported to have a preference for drinking with straws and eating pizza with a fork, a distaste for pressing elevator buttons and a revulsion to fans and the public getting too close to him, such as for autographs. In an op-ed for the U.K. newspaper The Independent, Gurnek Bains, author of Cultural DNA: The Psychology of Globalization and founder of a corporate psychology consultancy, suggests that Trump’s fear of communicable diseases is the root of his anti-immigrant political stances.
His obsession with cleanliness is why he prefers mass-produced or processed food. His preferences are not complicated: KFC. McDonald’s. The occasional taco bowl.
“I like See’s Candies.” “I like hamburgers.” “I’m an ice cream fan from way back.”
“I don’t like rich sauces or fine wines,” Trump wrote in his book Surviving at the Top. “I like to eat steak rather than pheasant under glass.” So long as the steak is well-done—so well-done, according to his longtime butler, “it would rock on the plate.”
His simplistic palate is a function of his desire for cleanliness. “One bad hamburger, you can destroy McDonald’s,” he explained to CNN’s Anderson Cooper earlier this year. “I’m a very clean person. I like cleanliness, and I think you’re better off going there than maybe someplace that you have no idea where the food’s coming from. It’s a certain standard.”
But Trump’s germophobia goes beyond an unwillingness to shake hands—an aversion he has had to forgo during his run for the presidency. Trump is also reported to have a preference for drinking with straws and eating pizza with a fork, a distaste for pressing elevator buttons and a revulsion to fans and the public getting too close to him, such as for autographs. In an op-ed for the U.K. newspaper The Independent, Gurnek Bains, author of Cultural DNA: The Psychology of Globalization and founder of a corporate psychology consultancy, suggests that Trump’s fear of communicable diseases is the root of his anti-immigrant political stances.
His obsession with cleanliness is why he prefers mass-produced or processed food. His preferences are not complicated: KFC. McDonald’s. The occasional taco bowl.
“I like See’s Candies.” “I like hamburgers.” “I’m an ice cream fan from way back.”
“I don’t like rich sauces or fine wines,” Trump wrote in his book Surviving at the Top. “I like to eat steak rather than pheasant under glass.” So long as the steak is well-done—so well-done, according to his longtime butler, “it would rock on the plate.”
His simplistic palate is a function of his desire for cleanliness. “One bad hamburger, you can destroy McDonald’s,” he explained to CNN’s Anderson Cooper earlier this year. “I’m a very clean person. I like cleanliness, and I think you’re better off going there than maybe someplace that you have no idea where the food’s coming from. It’s a certain standard.”
Regardless of the reasons why, and ignoring the fact that Trump thinks fast food is served in clean, well maintained areas, Trump likes processed food. We have seen it, and we have heard it straight from the man's mouth. Someone with a diet as poor as his must at least exercise to counter-balance the effects of same, but Trump is a man who refuses to conform to logic. From that same Politico piece:
Trump believes the human body is like a battery. Energy used is energy lost. For this reason, he doesn’t like exercising too much, and he doesn’t like his employees exercising too much, either, according to former Atlantic City casino executive Jack O’Donnell who worked for Trump from 1987 to 1990.
“All my friends who work out all the time, they’re going for knee replacements, hip replacements—they’re a disaster,” he explained last year.
Good to know that a flabby 70 year old man with a poor diet does not believe in exercise. Hey, maybe Republicans will vote for Trump after all, in the hope that he has a heart attack and Vice President Mike Pence takes over completely.
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