foodie

The man who sold it to me told me, “It’s, mmm! – like butter.” Oh well, yeah then, shit, give me some, I said. I didn’t know how much I had paid for it. I ate it and almost passed out. How much did I pay for this? I ran to the refrigerator to look at the wrapper around the rest of it to see what I paid for fish that almost made me come. Okay. Yeah, expensive but, oh well.

I’m too consumed with changing the trajectory of my life to be a foodie. I keep it basic with food, but now I wonder if there’s other fish out there I missed. While I don’t spare cost for good food, it can’t be too expensive. I spent half my unemployment check on that fucking fish. But I did buy it again. Oh I just had to hit that up, like, two times…

I’m not a foodie. But I do like mayonnaise, and I like toast with olive oil and salt. I don’t eat these foods excessively but my metabolism had problems grinding these foods up along with the free cheese-laden cuisine I was getting from the café at work all last year.

Because I never have the right to pass up bags of free food, my ass is swollen. I blame free cheese-laden cuisine. While I’m a cake enthusiast, and lover of strudel, pie, donuts, cookies and candy, I control myself. I know it could get ugly, because it has.

In ‘night Mother, Anne Bancroft’s character says, “I don’t like food — I like candy!” I so could have played her, because I identify with people who hate food and like candy.

You’d expect anyone proclaiming to hate food to be bone thin. Yah, but I’m not bone thin. I don’t hate food the same as those people who get away with eating very little, those small-boned people who brag about how they forgot to eat. How cute are they.

I always fear that the food I eat won’t metabolize properly and will just sit there turning to blubber. I have fear of food — food anxiety. I also resent spending energy buying, cooking and eating food, and I hate washing dishes. This all takes too much time.

I’d like those pills that they had on the Jetsons. They took care of all your nutritional needs. You simply pop one in your mouth, and off you go with your jet-fueled back pack to that shopping mall on Venus.

I was inspired to write this post after seeing my image in a dressing room mirror. Aren’t those mirrors evil?

“Is that…m-my…b-b-butt?” I said. Maybe I’m in denial about the amount of food I eat?

I really don’t eat much, but once I start eating, it continues until my body says it should stop, and I hate that because it thwarts my fantasy of getting away with eating just once a day.

I know I’m twisted when it comes to food – and maybe a few other things — but, I just need to eat, live and stop ragging on my butt – it’s a useless exercise.

I do have the ability to enjoy food however. I enjoyed Chilean bass a couple of days ago. Maybe I’ll write a post about that, and how I only decided to look at the price on the wrapping around the rest of the fish in the refrigerator after it almost killed me because it was so transporting. It dawned on me that any fish that could do this had to be pricey.