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Humor April 2016

Agelessly Yours

Tickling Your Taste Buds

By Karen White-Walker

It's a bloated uncomfortable feeling to haul around all your meals, drinks, and snacks for the last 30 years, but apparently it's not that discomforting because we don't go on that dreaded four-letter word — diet. Have you ever noticed how all the worst sounding words have four letters in them? Words like hate, evil, yell, pain, and that despicable F-word.

Most chubby folks sporting double chins and sausage rolls, gaze at their thin counterparts with self- destructive envy. I look at them with pure pity. That's right, who the heck wants to be part of society when you're definitely in the minority? When you're viewed almost as an outcast, not because you can't fit in, but that you CAN fit into your clothes so beautifully. I mean, when you're wearing a belt it actually stays put, smack dab on your waistline, and doesn't creep up to under your bust line, if you're female, or down just two inches above your....if you're a male.

It's a bloated uncomfortable feeling to haul around all your meals, drinks, and snacks for the last 30 years, but apparently it's not that discomforting because we don't go on that dreaded four-letter word — diet. Have you ever noticed how all the worst sounding words have four letters in them? Words like hate, evil, yell, pain, and that despicable F-word. Just pop in one more little harmless letter and there you have it – heaven! Words like pasta, bread, candy, chips and pizza. Is your mouth salivating, drooling all over this article? I'm not offended; at least you're reading my work, probably while eating a little snack to hold you over until breakfast that's maybe just ten minutes away.

On a recent weekend trip to the Big Apple, my friend turned to me and asked. "Have you noticed how there aren't any fat native New Yorkers here?"

"No, I can't really say I have because ..."

"Because everybody walks everywhere," she interrupted, "that's why. And..."

"And," I interrupted, tit for tat, "groceries are so staggering, who can afford to even feed a ferret around here?"

How lucky we Western New Yorkers are with practically the best produce in the country, and like that endearing Lenny from Steinbeck's masterpiece Of Mice and Men, we could "live off the fat of the land." All we really need, ya know, are the succulent fruits and vegetables that are within reach of our hungry hands. Too bad they usually never make it from those hands to our mouths, because most of us prefer pastries and such. What is it about a steaming cup of coffee paired up with a big slab of homemade pie, ala mode, of course, that makes us feel so comforted? Why do we turn to sugar, salt and sodas to fill that deep empty void within us? We might ask our future cardiologist that question along with the other specialists when our bodies and minds start paying the price for past pleasures.

Funny the way we can rationalize in our minds and justify our detrimental health habits. "But I don't drink, smoke, or run around," confessed my fat friend, "So why can't I at least eat what I want, when I want?"

"You can, but not in this city. Do you realize that even the sandwich in this joint is ala carte? If we're talking about ordering the works, we're talking $15 a piece for basically two slices of bread. We must be crazy."

The idea hit up both at the same moment, a surefire diet, staying in the city for a while and not being able to afford to eat and forced to become a streetwalker. Gee, I didn't mean it to sound quite like that. But what would our husbands say? Hey, what man would complain about a frump waddling out his front door and returning as somebody he could actually put his arms around? Guess I never knew, because my husband once said, "Get the hell home!" He hurt my feelings terribly, but that one-pound box of chocolates sure made me feel good.

 

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