Food
Is The Enemy - Part 2
Written by Marsha Mellow
I
have been lied to by many people in my life so why the
hell wouldn’t I believe that a no talent dope-tard
would have broken into my heavenly abode and exchanged
my mirrors for funhouse mirrors. The crazy ones that take
one’s statue-esque form and transform it into a
short dumpy potbellied ass-clown. Not so farfetched I
foolishly believed.
When
you work in the biz, you get a quick education in underhandedness.
Lesser performers will steal, cheat, lie, bite you, trip
you up, and sleep with whomever just to get in the biz.
I learned that the hard way from a chihuahua that was
once up for the same part in a commercial and the little
flea beacon actually walked away with it! The producers
tried making excuses about why that little Latin dog got
the part. In third world countries he was a delicacy but
here he rocketed to stardom. To this day I still believe
that little “quiero Taco Bell” rat just Lewinsky’d
the casting director.
I
had to finally face what I had become, which was equally
as sad as watching pirated Thai porn alone on a Thursday
night. Over and over I told myself that I was the same
size I was years prior. As much as mirrors and images
in our mind might lie and try to tell us we are the same
as what we once were, zippers, buttons, and waist bands
oh my, don’t lie. It was horrifyingly true I was
culo gordo. My assistant, Suzee, had been telling me for
months every time she had to let out a costume or replace
sequins and stones that had jettisoned off during performances.
One night the costume malfunction nearly took out the
entire third row.
My
future had never looked as bleak. It was true I had traded
my sex appeal for green salsa, and every delectable delight
I had consumed from, Jennifer’s Got Sweets. If I
died at that very moment, my autopsy would report that
my blood mixture was two parts Grey Goose, and one part
peanut butter M&M’s.
How
the hell did it happen? I really don’t know when
I became fat. Had someone been giving me olives with extra
fat for my dirty smutty street walker martinis? Was it
all the pizza I had consumed while watching my favorite
shows V and Glee? Once I had admitted I was a chunky single
monkey, I was not feeling so Gleefully!
Thanks
to Lana Blake help was on the horizon, in the form of
Lady Dittman! I drove franticly to get to my fat cure.
I could not even fix my face or apply more Bad Gal Lash
to give my lashes their maximum lash appeal. I never apply
makeup on roads I don’t know. Safety is what I am
all about.
Other
times I would just do what any starlet would do and binge
and purge to get the weight off. I had gotten really good
at the binge part; it was the purge that was not working
for me. With my big Oprah show in June, Lady GaGa in July
and the opening of Star Bar, there was no way I was going
to show up to any of them as a total heffer. What would
Loretta Lynn do?
Coal
Miner’s Daughter is my all time favorite movie.
I watch it once a week. As a kid I would watch it with
my sister, and we would get champagne flutes from our
parent’s liquor closet and fill them with ginger
ale pretending it was champagne and watch and repeat back
every line with Sissy Spacek and Tommy Lee Jones. Two
of the best actors to ever emerge from Texas. Hell Sissy
got the gold statue to prove it. My life has mimicked
Loretta’s life, except I never lived in a shack,
did not get married and spit out a kid at thirteen, my
dad never did have to sell a hog so that I could get new
shoes in winter. Still a good movie.
I
arrived at the end of the island where Lady Dittman lived.
Where I was greeted by two odd characters, Flotsam and
Jetsam, who might have been twins. Their voices were chilling
and their eel like faces creeped me out, and their slithery
behavior was not helping to put me at ease. My ginger
friend, Megan, had tagged along and told me to run - that
I was not that fat and we should leave immediately before
it was too late. She grabbed me by my hefty arm and dragged
me towards the front door that was slammed shut by Flotsam.
“Where
are you running too, child?” The voice had a soft
southern twang to it. It reminded me of the late Dixie
Carter’s character on Designing Women.
And
suddenly there she was before the Ginger and me, Lady
Dittman. She had soft features and eyes that hid a secret,
and perfectly applied lipstick. She asked what had brought
me there and I told her. That I seeked her help to get
rid of the bulge that had attached itself to me like a
tick on a dog so that I could be attractive again and
make a man fall in love with me.
“Can
you help me; I really need to be thin again so that I
can get my man back and not be fat on Oprah?” I
sounded a little bit more desperate then I would have
liked.
“Well,
drag fish, the solution to your problem is simple. The
only way to get what you want is to become thin yourself.”
“Can
you do that?”
“My
dear, sweet child. That's what I do. It's what I live
for; to help unfortunate dragzillas, like yourself, poor
souls with no one else to turn to.”
“Oh,
and there is one more thing. We haven't discussed the
subject of payment. You can't get something for nothing,
you know. “
“But
I don't have any... “
“I’m
not asking much. Just a token really, a trifle. You'll
never even miss it. What I want from you is... your voice.
“
“:
My voice? “
“
You got it, dragcakes. No more talking, singing, zip”
She
then began to dance around and sang some song about unfortunate
souls. Was quite a catchy little number I must admit.
Then drew up a contract for me to sign. I had three days
to make one person fall in love with me.
Then
out of nowhere she handed me purple diamonds that contained
the power to make me thin again. I quickly took one, swallowing
it down with no vodka.
Megan
and I left and all the way home the Ginger complained
and whined how I had just made a deal with a witch.
Oddly
the whole experience felt a little Walt Disney to me.
Now I have to see what happens next.
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