The intent of leaving the comforts of my home to go shopping was to purchase a whole, cooked chicken from the deli section of my local friendly neighborhood, insert store here.
I returned however with an assortment of finger foods; the consequences of shopping whilst in hunger. I say “in hunger” because the pain that tends to accompany an empty stomach is very similar to what I imagine labor to be like. This is not an exaggeration. The emptiness inside begins to take shape and kick and grow until it feels as though it is actually ripping through you. Thanks god I don’t have a vagina or else I would have given birth to an insatiable appetite that smelled like mustard and 8 hour old enchiladas.
[I threw the mustard in for effect]
More likely than not, we have all been caught in the super-market aisle, staring down food with lustful eyes, after having not eaten anything substantial for an extended period of time. This seems to be a habitual act with me; a tradition if you will, where upon entering the retail store I am immediately transported to the set of “Supermarket Sweep” and given the divine appointment to clear the store of all things fattening, un-nourishing, unedifying, sugary, and just plain bad for me.
It is not unusual to come home with several bags teeming with unhealthy, edible delights: sorbet, corn dogs, bags of sugar, cartons of lard, cookie dough, packs of butter, candy bars, potato chips, pot pies, lasagnas, beer, whiskey, nicotine, small children, black tar heroine…parsnips.
Naaa, I’m just kidding, I don’t buy parsnips.
I have no strategy when I enter the store, no routine, no focus and absolutely no self control. I fulfill every whim, every desire, and every mouth-watering wish. I leave no aisle untouched, no department unsolicited, no end cap ignored. I am frantic and effortless in my selection. If it sounds good in the least bit, it’s mine. My hunger justifies my ignorance.
Tonight I purchased Diet cookies because the picture on the box looked amazing. The diet cookies were not amazing. They were awful. They were in fact, total crap. Actually, I have crapped better cookies than the ones I purchased tonight, in impulse.
When I arrived home, I promptly prepared myself a meal of onion-stuffed olives, pickle Wedges, pepper-jack cheese, strawberries, oysters in cotton-seed oil, parmesan-basil Wheat Thins, a spinach salad with basil-ranch dressing, and a cheap red wine that was cleverly labeled, “Red”. [There is an image of blood splatter on the bottle however so the fact that it is cheap does not matter because I can entertain those miniscule but ever so present fantasies of vampirism.]
Two hours later, my stomach is in knots and I have the slight taste of regret in my throat which, coincidentally, is very similar to vomit. As I write this, I am partially buckled over the keyboard, wondering when the dry, wet or mixed heaving will begin and I will finally obtain rest from sheer exhaustion, and also passing horrible alcohol gas - that is, gas that your body produces after a hiatus from drinking alcohol. As a matter of fact, my roommate and I were just discussing this phenomenon earlier in the evening. I laughed nonchalantly as we agreed that the most putrid aftermath of gas or runs or solid matter is produced shortly after the night of your great return to beer or liquor or wine. God obviously enjoys bathroom humor because he saw it necessary to fill me with his holy spirit. As it goes, the Holy Spirit dwells within the folds and creases of your large intestine, pushing slowly on your colon, as to encourage you to pray.
Tonight, Ladies and Gentlemen, I found salvation. Then, I jiggled the handle.
Somewhere between hearing David Ruprecht’s voice cheer me on as I tossed cookies into my cart and realizing that I need to start chewing my food better, [specifically bananas and noodles], I asked myself “How often do I do this?”
How often do WE do this?
Hungry, thirsty, in need of substance, practically dying for something real, something sincere and honest and true…we turn to immediate pleasures. Our unfulfilled longing becomes uncontrollable lusts. Our visions for the future are traded for immediate perspective. We justify the relationships we are in by the pain in our guts, the aching in our hearts - and we fill ourselves with every foul thing: codependency, deceit, fear, jealousy, hatred, pride, greed, contempt, guilt, bitterness, rage, laziness, ice cream bars, double fudge brownies, triple cream pies, quadruple sliced bacon….and so on and so forth, thinking that we are satisfying our souls, filling our lives…when in reality….we are expediting an early death.
And in the end….we are left discontent, dissatisfied, and miserable….still starving, still thirsting, still in pain…and we soon find out that what goes in, must come out…and we are left to wade in a puddle of our own spew, as flecks of corn and strands of spaghetti squirm their way into our crevices…and….well…you get the point.
So the moral of the story is: Don’t buy cheap wine.
