The holidays are closing in and we all know what that means!
That’s right,
FOOD.
I know some people say it’s all about Jesus, but listen to me: Jesus isn’t food. Unless you’re counting those flat, dissolvable cardboard disks those church goers call “the body of Christ”. I totally don’t.
But here’s the thing. There will be no mounds of macaroni and cheese, brown sugar glazed ham, or buttery, succulent rolls for me.
I’m on a diet.
I know. I know.
EVERYONE is on a diet.
But the thing about me and dieting is we hate each other. We’re unfaithful. We tried to make it work for the sake of the kid, but there was just too much bitterness there.
Unfortunately, the doctor says we have to try again. He also acts like the problem with our relationship is 100% my fault, but what the fuck does he know?
The scene: Doctor’s office.
The purpose: A doctor’s excuse.
Why: Because I didn’t feel well and my throat might have been a little sore. Maybe. A week ago.
I attempted to look as forlorn and sickly as possible while the nurse took my blood pressure and asked me boring questions.
Then I waited, sitting on the crinkly papered exam table and swinging my legs back and forth. Heel struck table: clang! Heel struck table: clang!
Wait...wait...was that? I think it was!
“Clang clang clang clang, clangclangclang”...and vocals:
“I said what what in the butt! I said what what in the butt! You wanna do it in my butt, in my butt (clang clang clang clang clang clang)! Let’s do it in the butt...Ooooook!”
Enter Doctor Have-No-Soul.
Doc:
“Good morning.”
Me: Totally not embarrassed about kicking exam table like a four year old and singing Southpark assholery.
“Good morning.”
Doc:
“So we aren’t feeling well today?”
Me:
“Number one feels ok, but number seven needs a little work.”
Doc: Bland, sheep face. Does not compute.
Me:
“Heh, you know...we...multiple personalities....”
Doc: Bland, sheep face. Does not compute.
Me:
“Alrighty! No, we don’t feel well today. We didn’t feel well yesterday either.”
Doc: Pulls out stethoscope and starts asking medical questions.
Me:
“We might need medicine.”
Doc: More medical questions. Touchy feely, under the shirt action etc.
Me: Medical answers, stray giggle at tickley under the shirt feely action.
After more examining:
Doc: Looks at chart, flips page. Frowny face.
“You’ve gained 15lbs since I saw you this time last year.”
Me:
“15!”
Doc:
“Yes. 15.”
Me:
“Shit. Oh gawd! We’re getting fat!” Deliberately bland sheep face.
Doc:
“Mmmm.” Fake noncommittal face, but in actuality...judgmental face.
Me:
“I’m sick though, so...we’re not talking about weight.”
Doc:
“You should be aware that you gained 15lbs in a year.”
Me:
“Could you stop saying that out loud?”
Doc:
“Yes, but you should be aw...”
Me:
“YEAH AWARE, I get it. So what do you think?”
Doc:
“I think you should go on a diet.”
Me:
“ABOUT MY SICKNESS, NOT MY WEIGHT.”
Doc: Bland, sheep face.
“I’ll write you a prescription for antibiotics just in case.”
Me:
“Great. Wonderful. Are we finished?”
I got my paperwork and headed to the check out counter. A girl I knew from school was working the desk.
“So, how did it go,” she asked.
“He called us fat.”
She stared at me.
“Well, you aren’t”, she said.
I tore out the check I was writing and handed it to her.
“We’ve gained 15lbs in a year.”
She stared at me like I was crazy.
“Um...really, you’re not.”
I sighed.
“Are we done here?”
She glanced at the check, did a double take and started laughing.
“Yeah! Ha! Man, that’s funny!”
On the Memo line at the bottom of the check I’d written:
“Cash this before we eat it.”
“Fat people are funny”, I said knowingly.
I went back out to my car and called my boss.
“Well, what did the doctor say”, she asked.
“He said we’re fat.”
“What?!”
I repeated myself, then gave her a run down of the appointment (the edited, I’m too sick to work today version).
“Well, don’t worry about it. Didn’t you say he was an asshole anyway? I thought you were getting a new doctor after the last time when he called you a hypochondriac.”
“We forgot.”
“You forgot to get a new doctor?”
“We haven’t seen this one in a year. Besides, fat people are forgetful.”
“For god’s sake! You are not fa...”
“It’s an alliteration thing, I think. Fat, funny, forgetful, food, freezer, fellatio.”
“You do realize how weird you are right?”
“Yes, we know.”
“What’s fellatio?”
“Gelatin. We have to go now.”
She sighed.
“Call me and let me know if you’re coming in tomorrow...and quit saying “we”. It’s weird.”
“We’ll be there. If we can fit through the door. F.....Fit.”
“Yeah, you need to go home and lie down. Feel better.”
“Bye.”
Fast forward.
Last night I was sitting on the couch talking to mom’s boyfriend Ray.
“I’m starting my diet tomorrow”, he said.
“Really? I should do it with you. It’s easier to diet with a partner.”
“Ya’ll are crazy. I’m waiting till after the holidays to do any dieting”, mom said.
“That’s the best time to do it”, he replied.
Mom looked at me.
“You don’t diet well.”
“Well, I know we’ve had our differences in the past but surely we can hang in there for just 15lbs.”
She laughed and shook her head.
“Ok. We’ll see.”
An hour later:
“Who ate my M&M’s”, my sister asked.
“I did”, I admitted from the couch.
“Uh! What the hell!”
“Listen, there has to be one last fling before monogamy starts tomorrow.”
“Mom, what is she talking about?”
“Dieting.”
“Really”, she asked me.
“You’re going to diet?”
“Yes.”
“You know Thanksgiving is in like, two weeks.”
“Yes.”
“How are you going to keep from eating all that junk?”
“Fellatio.”
She looked confused.
“What’s fellatio?”
“It’s what fat people do to keep from eating....food”, I said.
Mom glared at me.
“That’s enough.”
“That’s not what it means, is it”, my sister asked.
I shrugged.
“I forget.”
“Whatever. You are SO weird.”
And that’s the story of why we started a diet today.
Now you'll have to excuse us, we're off to lunch.
Not sure what we're having today...but I hear Jesus is low in calories.
