Trim the Fat

I'm not a pork person. I sort of knew that from the onset of life, but it wasn't until recently that it became an affirmed fact within my personality. It's not so much the taste (although it's not my favorite) it's more the fact that it is completely vile in preparation that makes it wholly unsavory in the end.

Saturday: David buys a behemothic pork roast resembling a small elephant baby. David's thought process: Pork is cheap. Pork is prolific. Pork is good.

Monday: I decide to do something with the pork. Having never really dealt with anything but ham or bacon, this is new territory for my culinary capabilities. I find a recipe and begin the process known as "trimming the fat." Now on this recipe, they make it sound like this a small, trivial step in the process. Like draining grease off of something, or adding a pinch of salt into a recipe. When really, it should have said something like this: Step one: TRIM THE FAT (i.e. spend two hours elbow deep in pig carcass attempting to strip the minute layers of meat from the copious amounts of slippery fat.)
But it doesn't say this. So I'm lured into a false sense of simplicity. I take our 8 lbs. pork and lug it into the sink, gently snip off the plastic, and am immediately blasted with an odor something between fish and hot cooking oil. Steeling my stomach, I begin to "trim the fat." Thirty minutes into this process, I realize that I really don't have appropriate kitchen utensils for this. The fat has subsequently broken my scissors at the joint, and I am currently hacking away with the sharpest kitchen knife that we own. Pork juice squirts into my eye and that is really the last straw. Pork is flung across the room as are expletives that remind me of my kinship to ancient sea captains of the Canadian Maritime provinces. These brave captains also had to face unknown dangers in less than ideal circumstances. Situations such as these broaden one's vocabulary.
In the meantime, Lissie is screaming on the floor but I can't pick her up because my hands are covered in pig lard and I don't want to contaminate her along with the whole of my kitchen. Eventually, a few pieces of meat are tossed into the crock pot, and I am left muttering oaths that I will never cook pork again. Never.
Trim the fat indeed.