Wednesday, February 2, 2011

unleashing the fat kid inside me

My family is gearing up to leave for California in a couple weeks and I am thrilled. One of the things that hypes me up is the prospect of California food, all exotic and avacado'd. I get giddy at the thought of In-N-Out Burger, and I even made a special pre-request to revisit this place called The Potholder in Long Beach, where I ate one of the most memorable meals of my life.  [Tangent: My salivary glands just went into hyperactivity.] The meal was called Tim's Dugout and featured the following on one plate: stuffed French toast; an avacado,  bacon and cheese omelet; and steak and hash brown potatoes. [Tangent: Good gravy-coated God, I just ate stew but 15 minutes ago and just made myself hungry again.]

Let me intercept this blog with a disclaimer. I know that I'm petite. I'm little. 90 lbs and 4'11 [Tangent: I know...I know. 4'll is a bit of hyperbole. I'm under no delusion; its clear I am a good 4'9/4'10 tops. However, you are classified as being a "Little Person" if you are under 4'10 according to the American with Disabilities Act. Not that I would be offended by being a little person, I just think my disability plate is overspilling as is. Also, few advantages come with my permanently sedentary position, other than being able to wear shorter tops with leggings and not look like raging trash ball...let me have this one other thing. Let me be able to add a couple inches to my height on my license no questions asked. OK?  4'11 it is.]. Because of my "dainty" stature, I have a short torso thus a smaller stomach capacity [Tangent: This makes me the queen of to-go boxes.]. This anatomical glitch is the key factor as to why I am not morbidly obese and the star of my own weight loss reality series on the Oxygen Network.

 I also realize that weight is something that many I love struggle with daily, so what I am about to say may be controversial, but there at the core, I am a husky dame. I think its time to let her out.

Anyone who knows me for any length of time knows about that chunky girl lurking inside me. Let's call her Gertrude. She takes over my being  anytime food is mentioned. I get really excited and my eyes light up with food lust leading to people asking, "Are you sure you're not high?"
less like this creepy zombie owl...

...and more like a creepy anime school girl.

For instance, today I marveled at my coworker's idea of making a pop-tart/zinger sandwich. It sounded incredible...and it still does. [Tangent: What can I say...I'm upper middle class white trash!]I can commentate for hours about my favorite Little Debbie snack cake flavors; which pizza chains are better hot and which are better cold the day after; that I watched Super- Size Me and then craved a Quarter Pounder with cheese; the joys of the limited edition Pringles flavor; the fact that one of the only times I've truly been slamming doors angry was when someone ate the last of my Girl Scout cookies. [Tangent: I know this seems irrational, but in my defense, cookie selling season was over, so I would have to wait a year to get tagalongs. Girl Scout cookies are limited edition delicious.]

I'm aware I am pretty much making myself as unattractive right now as I possibly can, but I am not afraid to admit my weakness. Food has me (and Gertrude) in the palm of its metaphorical hand. I have tried to expand my horizons. I've  read The Jungle and watched Oprah tour a slaughterhouse [Tangent: Why is Oprah so late to the banquet on Veganism...she acts as if its a new concept that she is bringing to America. She does it with such enthusiasm that I believe she is capable of making the cow as sacred as it is New Dehli.], yet I still would be dressed and have the car running in 15 minutes if you proposed a late night Sonic run.

Don't get me wrong , I'm not completely classless. Food always makes me curious, and culinarily speaking, I will give anything a shot once. This makes somewhat disturbing shows like Andrew Zimmern's and Anthony Bordain's not that disgusting. If I was offered a cricket in the Shanghai, I would try it without hesitation.  My love of ethnic food and just good old fashioned Southern cooking led me to make the following bold statement the other day, "I don't think I could ever marry anyone if they were a picky eater." To me being a picky eater the greatest sin of all.


  1. i am craving a chicken sandwich after reading this. one of those that is a sandwich made from two giant pieces of chicken, with bacon and cheese in between.

  2. best food idea ever. boneless chicken breast, infused with pepper jack cheese, wrapped in crunchy maple bacon.


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