Food
Is The Enemy
Written by Marsha Mellow
“The
first of April is what reminds us of what we are the other
364 days of the year.” That is one of the few things
that I remember from my tenth grade English class. It
stuck with me so well I even can recall who said it, Mark
Twain. Who knows why it has stuck to my mind much like
gum sticks to the bottom of a shoe. Gum on the bottom
of your shoe can cause a case of crimson ass, but feeling
a fool is worse.
I
began to reevaluate my life when my attempts to find my
parents had led me to nothing but dead ends and Taco Bell.
One thing is for certain: if old people don’t want
to be found you are not finding them. Must admit I have
not focused all of my energy on looking for two fossils
that ran out on their parenting responsibilities. They
are the ones who will have to answer for their crimes
when I make my Oprah Winfrey debut next month. My moving
letter to Oprah paid of. I was told by her producer that
she was moved to tears when she read my story about how
I had been abandoned by my parents. Of course I took scenes
from the most depressing movies I could and she fell for
it hook line and sinker. I will just deal with the shock
when she realizes I am not a twelve year old African American
girl when I meet her.
I
have been telling everyone about my Oprah debut and that
took precedence over looking for my DNA donors. Nothing
gave me more pleasure then when I got to gloat to my former
DJ, Joe Rios, who believes that Oprah is some sort of
second coming. To me she is no more than a free trip to
Chicago, nice dinner and even nicer hotel room.
I
had every intention of spending one entire day looking
for my parents on a day when there was no one else to
tell about my Oprah debut but then the new Leonardo DiCaprio
film, Shutter Island, came out and that was more important.
Should
have spent the time hunting down parents because I left
the theater an even more depressed orphan then I was when
I entered the theater. What the hell is wrong with Leo?
When will he make a movie with a happy ending? He really
needs to get off that cross and build himself a bridge
to get over his issues.
With
all of this stress of getting to Chicago to be on Oprah,
Leo’s bad movie making decisions and my MIA parents
it is no wonder I have turned to food. I find myself eating
for no good reason at all. The greatest pleasure came
from a quant yet very elegant bakery named Jennifer’s
Got Sweets. I had made it my life work to try everything
that Jennifer pulls form her magic oven. My favorite is
her designer cupcakes. All day I dream about food: Italian,
French, and my favorite Mexican. All of my attention has
shifted to my meals and snacks. It had gotten so bad that
Spec’s liquor store sent me a card expressing how
they missed me. I could not be bothered as I shoveled
nachos into my mouth like workers shoveling coal into
a furnace to keep a steam engine moving.
I
soon realized I was out of control when I was short on
cash and this damn little do gooder Girl Scout Brownie
nature lover would not trade me ten boxes of thin mints
for my Cartier ring. Yelling at her she began to cry and
I was chased down the street by her Lone Star guzzling
dad.
Undoubtedly
that day someone was trying to tell me something because
the whole bottom of my smorgasbord world fell out from
underneath my feet that had began to resemble hooves.
I arrived at the Taco Bell and tried ordering an order
of fully loaded nachos. To my displeasure the kid behind
the counter told me that they were no longer serving nacho
heaven in a crispy edible bowl. To my shock I began to
cry. I wept hysterically when the manager came to escort
me out, apparently they have rules against holding the
employees heads against the counter demanding they make
items not on the menu. Pleading apologizing and begging
for them to make an exception was futile. As he was leading
me to the door to thrust me into an unfair world that
would be deprived of fully loaded nachos, he asked me
not to come to that particular location anymore. Maybe
for the fact that I had been there every day and was making
the staff and him feel uncomfortable (especially the day
when I continuously winked at him.) Between sobs I tried
to explain to him that I was not a stalker and even if
I was ‘secret admirer’ is a nicer term for
stalker. He just looked at me as I begged him not to ban
me from thinking outside the bun. Tried to explain I had
not been winking at him - that it was from fire sauce
that had splashed into my eye because I had dove into
the nachos too quickly. I was denied and he just felt
that it would be best if I tried going to Applebee’s.
I grabbed him close which I am positive scared him and
took in a deep whiff of the aromas that would be no more.
Released him quickly and waddled off to my car.
I
sat in my car looking at him with great contempt. That
anger faded and I was filled with joy once again because
on the lapel of my jacket I saw some of the sinful frosting
from Jennifer’s cupcakes had landed there. I chiseled
it off delicately not to lose any of it and savored the
goodness. Wiping my tears with an abandoned Taco Bell
napkin that had been lying in the passenger seat I drove
home passing an Applebee’s I had never noticed before.
With no time to stop or I would be late to my show I made
a mental note that I would take that Taco Bell’s
managers advice and try it the next day.
That
night is when I realized that all of my food sins had
come to a head. Just because those cupcakes had been light
in color they were not light in calories. While trying
to put on my costume it would not fit. Three drag queens
and two dancers tried with all their might to stuff me
into the costume, there efforts were in vain and might
have been more useful bailing water out of the titanic
to keep it from sinking. I looked like a mardi gras float.
Short of breath I stood before the mirror looking at myself
then the unthinkable happened; sequins and stones shot
from my costume like fireworks on the fourth of July.
Luckily no one lost an eye or was injured. That is when
my friend and co-emcee, Lana Blake, took me aside and
told me about a woman only known as Lady Dittman who has
helped many a good chunky. As she scribbled the address
on a cocktail napkin with my MAC, lipstick she explained
that I could not be on Oprah because in my current state
I would make her look thin. Not to mention I could no
longer even skinny dip, I would have to chunk in dunk.
Plus the cameras were going to make me whale like. I thought
using my lipstick as a pen and her comments were inappropriate,
but who am I to argue at that moment.
Too
depressed I went home and cried in my bed about my weight
gain. Thank goodness for the turtle cheesecake Jennifer
had sent over as a thank you for becoming her best customer.
She just found it a little odd she had received a threatening
letter from Spec’s.
The
final sign was that my television was on NBC so I was
forced to eat my dessert in shame as I suffered through
that show “The Biggest Loser.” I could have
changed the channel but I would have had to A. put down
my plate that nested the cheesecake or
B.
the fork that was the only tool I care to hold in my hand
or
C.
screw that I am not putting down either one.
In
between rollie pollie weigh-ins a commercial for Sam Worthington’s
remake of “Clash of the Titans” flashed across
the screen. After seeing his last movie “Avatar”
I was so moved by the acting ability of those blue people,
not really sure of where they live but I have seen some
of the natives do the show in Vegas. However the movie
left me with a bad rash, it made me want to hug a tree
so bad after viewing it I ran out and did just that. Not
being the nature type I ended up with poison ivy. Why
do all of his movies have to be in 3D? There is only one
thing I need from Sam coming right at me and I would need
that experience to be in 4D. I caught a glimpse of myself
in the mirror and was mortified at the reflection. What
have I become. I could have passed for Jabba the Huts
stunt double. No way would Sam notice me.
I
shuffled for my Prada bag and found the address and number
for Lady Dittman. I jumped to my feet tripping over a
pizza box. That pizza box was not going to stop me on
my mission to take back my life. Limping to my car I started
out on my quest to find Lady Dittman. No longer would
I be a fool for food.
TO
BE CONTINUED…
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