I’m currently sitting here, at my desk, so full that I cannot sit comfortably.
My waistband is unhappy with me, my stomach is stretched to capacity, I can hear my hips growing and still I eat more. There is still food on my plate, you see. And it was free. And the gargantuant North American in me screams “moooooooooooooore! Eat MOOOORE!” as crumbs fly out and I dribble coffee down my chin.
It isn’t pretty.
But I can’t stop. I simply cannot. I must eat everything on my plate. And that plate must be filled so that I cannot see any of the ceramic, all I want to visually intake is food, food and more food. No plate. I cannot eat that of course.
I can’t be done eating until I’m so full I kick myself for being such an idiot yet again. Or, I would kick myself if I could just move in these pants…..fucking tighter than I remember them being. Damn Chinese factories, making ever-shrinking pants. I tell ya.
I don’t quite understand why we do this to ourselves. Now, I’m not an American, so we don’t eat AS extreme as they do (holy shit, their portions could crush some children, I’m sure) but Canada is pretty close in terms of eating. I feel seriously depressed when a restaurant brings me my meal and all of it can fit into my visual field at once.
No! I want more! And where the hell is my free bread with butter? Why is this water glass so tiny? Oh no you don’t! You don’t fill up that pop glass with ice, so that I’m fooled into thinking I’m getting a lot of pop. I’m on to you! I’m a North American and my appetite is UNSURPRESSABLE!!!!
I’m not sure how we created a society of bloody cookie monsters. We all go apeshit when we see food, and it isn’t for lack of exposure, that’s for sure. But we all jump on our food like impatient vultures and shovel it in, a la Homer, until we can’t move and we become immobile belching machines. Then we have dessert. Then we have a coffee. Then a little snack before bed. Hell, slip some to the dog too.
Then we all run to the gym to sign up for memberships. ‘This time, I’m gonna do it! I’m gonna go! Woo! I can TOTALLY get up at 6AM to run on the spot for 45 minutes! Yay me!’ We go once. Maybe twice. We throw our money down the drain. Then we take our slightly skinnier wallets to the mall and buy ourselves some new fatter clothes. As we’re walking out, we notice our feet pinch in our shoes. Fucking Chinese factory ever-shrinking shoes! We waddle back in and buy comfier (read: wider) shoes for our feet. The wallet shrinks again.
We get home and realize we’re poorer than we were and that we’ve just shopped in a plus-size store and had to buy EEE shoes, so that our fat feet can shuffle through our days in slightly more comfort. We get depressed. Look in the mirror, pinch our flab, obsess over that spare tire, cringe at our back fat. Fuck it. Who cares. Where’s that Ben & Jerry’s? They’re nice boys. Ben & Jerry always understand.
We sit on the couch all night, drowning in misery, ice cream and donuts. We cry over the pretty models in the magazines and draw ugly Hitler moustaches on their bony, exoskeleton-like faces. Whores. Skinny bony whores. We flip the channels and see starving kids whose entire bodies cannot challenge the circumfrence of our torsos. Pffft. More ice cream.
We eat when bored, we eat when angry, we eat when hungry, we eat when drunk, we eat when offered, we eat when there’s just nothing else to do.
What the hell do they do in other countries? Stare at walls? I don’t know. It seems to me that the French should be fat for all their baguettes and coffees, the Italians should be fat for all their pasta and vino, the Greeks should be fat for all their rice and ouzo, the Chinese should be fat for all their white rice, the Brits should be fat for all their fish and chips………but they’re not. I don’t get it.
Maybe they don’t stuff their faces until they can’t move. That might be it. Who knows.
I just thought I’d write about this. But of course, I have to end this with saying I am not fat. Nor am I overweight. Too many years in a ballet studio have screwed me up enough in the head to not let myself get that way really. But I am an overeater at times. And it’s gross really. But I can’t stop. I’m North American and I’ll eat my way through this life until it kills me.