Last Weekend of March, 2012
“What’s better,” asked Bill Maher of one of his foodie guests, “mediocre sex or a great meal?” The guest answered (and I’m paraphrasing here,) “Depends who’s fucking and what’s for dinner.”
Cheater’s Weekend officially starts tomorrow. Well, I’ve had one hell of a week with everyone in the household getting the flu and my husband in the hospital with phenomena. It’s midnight Friday now, so technically it is tomorrow… The kids are asleep. I help Henri into bed; he’s still shaky but better from the IV drip and antibiotics.
My nerves are frayed, I’m worried about Henri’s health, I’m stressing about the hospital bills to come and I have to go to work tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. to help with the apartment remodel, even though I’m still sick with the flu. Perhaps this is the perfect time for Cheaters Weekend after all.
I go to the pantry and pull out the Hostess chocolate cupcakes from their hiding spot and place the package on the polished dining room table. I pour myself a huge glass of milk and sit in the quiet room enjoying my solitude.
Just as women will never fully understand why grown men love comic book heroes so much, men will never understand the near orgasmic experience women feel while eating chocolate. The first bite of cupcake is a sensual orgy for my taste buds. The chocolate is fragrant, the luscious sweetness fills my mouth and it is positively delectable. The milk complements it and I feel absolute ecstasy. There is nothing going on in the world right now; just the joy of chocolate.
That went so well I decide to open the Cadbury Eggs I purchased earlier.
Expectant of another magnificent flavor party to cross my lips I rip away the foil and bite quickly…only… it’s sweeter than I remembered it being. It’s too sweet actually, it almost sickens me with saccharine. Hmm. That’s new. I finish one egg but put the rest back in the pantry. Maybe they will taste better tomorrow.
Milk still tastes good and I wash out the syrupy taste. I take the Diet Coke from the refrigerator I so lovingly placed there this morning in preparation for Cheater’s Weekend and decant it into an ice filled glass.
Now I want salty. Pouring the salsa into my favorite bowl I lie it down on the gleaming table and open a new bag of Tostitos. Sure, there is already an open bag my husband was munching on, but I wanted a brand new bag, completely fresh and untouched. The first chips were good. The salt bit at my tongue and the salsa smelled divine. But after about five chips I felt full.
I wonder how much weight I’m going to gain this weekend? Damn Henri, for putting that in my mind! He’s terrified Cheater’s Weekend is going to put me back into my size 14 jeans and wants me to stay on the diet. But fuck him, I’m hungry, I’ve worked hard and I deserve this break.
Forcing more chips down my throat, I suddenly feel thirsty and take a sip of soda. It tastes awful. Wait…what? I check for an expiration date. Was this sitting around too long? Why does it taste so bad?
Maybe it needs rum…but that’s not allowed so I just stick with the soda. I don’t want any more chips so I roll up the bag and put it way and wrap up the salsa for later. Maybe my sense of taste must is off from the flu?
Cheaters Weekend is not getting off to a good start. I will try to eat more crap tomorrow and feel better about it.
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