Food For Thought

And now we eat.

The dust has settled, the train has left the station, and any other metaphor you can think of has happened. So what is next? I don’t think that there is another letter on the end of the DABDA grief cycle that stands for gorging yourself on jello parfaits and chili cheese nachos. Yes, that has been on my plate in the last 24 hours.

For full effect, download “Just Eat It” by Weird Al Yankovich and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.

I would like to give a shout out to the neighbors and caring friends that have donated so much of their time, energy and pantries to my own family in this difficult situation. It is because of your clearing of cupboards that I have torn a hole up the crotch in a pair XXL gym shorts, and made the scale in my bathroom go “Oh ****!” whenever I step on it.

Food seems to be the only alternative now that the fuss of the funeral has died down (pun intended), and everyone has gone back to what they call “normal” life. And for some reason our society feels that the best way to cope with grief and stress in our lives is to deliver a stuffed crust deep dish large Sicilian pizza with a side of sugar-coated hot wings.

Kind Neighbor: “I’m so sorry for your loss, here why don’t you stuff your face with these chocolate stuffed fried turkey fries, and down it with a gallon of Brick Oven Root Beer.

Swamp Thing: “Umm..thank you.”

Kind Neighbor: “I know that Diabetes seemed to be a major factor in his passing, and that’s why
I’m trying to help you get that same problem as well.”

And so I eat. It doesn’t matter if it’s three in the morning and I’m staring at a slew of Sportscenter highlight reruns, or if it’s one in the afternoon, and I’m just finishing a hearty game of Words With Friends, I am forced to eat. What else am I supposed to do with a large German Chocolate Cake and a dozen apple fritters? I can’t let those things go to waste. I need to put them to good use and add another layer to my triple-chinned face.

If you’re reading this I pray to high heaven that you’re not Bulimic.