You Gonna Eat That?
We have TV shows featuring the lives of people who have hit 600#, making themselves into virtual prisoners in their homes. Following that show will be another about Anorexia. In between there will be ad after ad for dubious products to help us slim down or bulk up. I can’t keep it all straight in my feeble head. I need to think about food on a small scale.
No matter what I might donate to help feed the starving it would never be enough. I have to start with myself
My doctors are always on my case to lose weight. I get it. I understand, but my doctors are all thin to the point of having to stand twice in the same place to make a shadow. I get it, but I don’t think that they do. Losing weight is not easy, short of amputating an appendage or two.
I do have to admit, that at 70 years and counting, I’m not as persistent or single minded about it.
During any given year my weight can, and has, fluctuated 20# up or down. Right now I’m somewhere in the middle. Of course, according to all of the charts the doctors show me, I should weigh about 150#, and given that I am actually getting shorter as I age, I figure that at some point in the future I will just disappear in a puff of irrelevance. Only then will I approach my ideal weight. I’ve made it this far and I look upon each addition day that I’m given, as I continue to shrink, as (pardon the expression) gravy.
Some people I know must have the metabolism of a steel-making Bessemer Furnace. They can sit down and eat a whole Grizzly bear getting ready for winter and not put on an ounce. Me? I just say the word “Pie” or even “Pi” and I chub up. It’s not fair, but I do know where to get some really good pie.
The other day I got into a discussion over coffee about food – what we like and what we don’t, and what we eat that mystifies others – our own private little yummy snacks. It seems that everyone has something that they like to eat that is “unusual” to use a kind word.
My father used to snack on a stack of saltine crackers with butter and ketchup. To me it always looked like he had a plate full of wounds. To this day I cannot eat those crackers.
One of the people in the discussion about food said that he likes to put salted peanuts into his can of Pepsi. To me he has just ruined both the Pepsi and the peanuts. He’s from Florida so we cut him some culinary slack.
The most unusual (read: disgusting) food item put forth as we talked and gagged came from one of the older Suspects. He likes to eat (brace yourself) Vanilla Wafer cookies with Tabasco Sauce. I didn’t know how to react to that. What he eats is his business, but my gall bladder cramped up – and I’d had it removed decades ago. The body never forgets.
I really didn’t have anything all that bizarre to bring to the table, so to speak. All I could think of was, when I eat oatmeal, I sprinkle it with salt rather than sugar like the rest of the world. I asked my mother about that once. She said that the salt thing was a carryover from her childhood. As one of nine children in a poor immigrant family in the early days of the 20th century they could not afford sugar. It was her thing in 1917, but here I am still doing it a century later. Go figure.
I think I’ll go get something for lunch. I’ve made myself both hungry and slightly nauseous.