Thursday, June 18, 2015
Today I am grateful to keep my promise to post the piece I rocked out at the PWC. This was written many, many years ago, on a blustery hot day, in an office with no air conditioning and I was seated next to my writing partner, David, who had challenged me to shut up about not knowing what to write about and just write! I did. Thank you, David. It is part of a self-help, team building book, illustrated by David, that we wrote and still hope to publish, called B.I.T.C.H.!
© Mary Mooney
I have been on every opti-puke, nutri-fat, drop-out, starve-now, high-protein, low-carb, eat-quick, chew-short, swallow-up, choke-down, piss-water, inject-placenta, poop-like-giving-birth, diet known.
I have eaten from every Healthy Heart and Watch Your Waist, Light Eater’s menu, in every gag and barf restaurant from here to Singapore.
I have counted every calorie, kept a menu, measured my wrists, hung from doorways to stretch my height and calculated my body fat.
I have been weighed in, lectured to, therapized over, shamed in front of and grouped.
I have had idiot diet gurus tell me to pull a chair UP to the fridge, put a pig ON the fridge, get a lock FOR the fridge not OPEN the fridge and get RID of the fridge!
I have lost and gained the same two-thousand pounds a gazillion times in the last twenty-five years. My thighs still rub together enough to grind corn. My butt can still shelve pickles. My chins keep me from getting a whiplash when I nod off. My stomach moves like a lava lamp and my upper arms hold my boobs in place.
I say we grab all those diet experts, staple their stomachs to their butts, wire their lips to their fingertips. . .and go out for pizza!