It's midnight right now, and I've been attempting to fall asleep for the past thirty minutes, but to no avail. I find that in this type of situation, if I lie on my stomach and let my toes touch the metal frame at the end of my bed, I can typically doze off. Don't ask why this is because frankly, I don't have a clue. But tonight, no stomach laying, toe touching metal remedy seems to be working.
A few weeks ago, i reconnected with an old friend. We were chatting about random things, as we do, and I brought up my futuristic dog of the future that I plan on buying in the future. His name will be Loafy, and I brought up the topic of how sometimes when I wash my hands, I say the name "Loafy" out loud, sort of quiet and melodically, while rinsing the soap off. True friend that he is, he shared that he often thinks of the word "apple" when he can't think of another word. Tonight, I find myself mentally repeating the word "blubber." Blubber. Blubber. Bllllluuuubbbbeeerrrr. Blu-bber. You see what I mean?
Earlier this evening, I was lying on the couch channel flipping, as one does when their roommate is out of town and one is bored in the apartment alone. For those who don't really know me, you should know I watch only a few things, and typically this involves the word "syndication." Seinfeld, The Simpsons, and Law and Order (and the offshoots thereof) are the only programs I view on a regular basis. But tonight, I broadened my horizons. I ventured past channel 40. I went into the no man's land known as "Above Channel 41." And it was good.
Now I'm not sure what channel Discovery Health is on, but if you ever want to experience being frozen in time, both horrified and a bit ill to the stomach, watch this channel. First off, the minute I landed on this gold mine, a new show was just starting, and boy...was it a show. The focus was on fat people. And I'm not talking about muffin tops or the run of the mill lard ass you see orgasming in Whole Foods near the free maccaroons tray. These people were what they deemed "morbidly obese." For example, one woman's leg, and yes, i meant SINGULAR leg, weighed over 200 pounds. Are you still there? Did I just blow your mind? No? How about this: One man was so fat that he was crushing his lungs with his own body weight. There. Mind has sufficiently been blown.
Now I know some of you are probably thinking "God, that Mary Ann is so superficial. Who does she think she is judging overweight people like she does?" Well, let me begin by saying "Go piss up a rope." Secondly, I used to be fat, so I can talk all I want. Granted, I was 30 pounds overweight, not morbidly obese by any means, but fat is fat folks. Thirdly, if someone is so fat that they can't roll over by themselves or fit into the back of a mini van, I'm sorry. But you're fair game as far as I'm concerned.
While watching some of the surgeries being performed on the show, I was both completely grossed out and in what might possibly have been a catatonic state. For those of you that have watched scary movies with me, or perhaps watched me witness the killing of a bunny with an Indian throwing stick, you've seen my famous "cover my eyes with my hands but watch through my ring and middle finger" maneuver. Well, I'm proud to say that I was sitting on the edge of the couch, hands down to my sides, wide eyed. The surgery I was viewing was called "debulking," and at times, they would remove twenty pounds of flesh from various parts of these peoples bodies. Oddly enough, I had a brief moment of nostalgia where I was taken back to 11th grade zoology class when we would watch whaling videos. I'm not trying to be mean here, but when they would carve up an orca...well...you get my drift.
I know I sound cruel. I know I've probably lost about ten friends just by writing this post. But lets be fair here. We all get hungry. We all sneak that extra cupcake every once in a while. I mean, I'm 25 years old and I ate popcorn for breakfast the other day, so I'm fully aware that my dietary habits leave alot to be desired. And I'll be the first to admit that I've been known to drunkenly buy ice cream cakes and eat them in my underwear on the couch during the summer (god bless the Summer of 2005)*. But did I buy the king size ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins for a snack? No. I ate off of it for a few days. Did I top off that cake with a three course meal? No. Because I eat like a four year old. I ate the cake and I was happy! My point is this: I can't feel sorry for someone that eats four dozen crates of twinkies every day. If you are so fat that you can't physically roll over? Not. My. Problem. Perhaps when seeing your feet, testicles, or anything else that falls south of the border becomes something you strive for, one should ponder this: Now I know eating this entire cream filled cookie cake SOUNDS like a good idea, but I'm not even sure if I HAVE genitalia anymore...
On that note, I'm off to eat the left over Halloween candy I found on the bottom kitchen shelf. Thank god Tootsie Rolls have no expiration date.
* The summer of 2005 was a hot summer in New York. I was still living in the Lower East Side at the time, and one night while drunkenly walking home from Bull's on St. Mark's Place, the memories of ice cream cake from my youth came flooding back. I decided that the six block walk to the Baskin Robbins on Delancey and whatever that street is was doable, so I trekked east. I probably did this journey six or seven more times over the course of the summer, each morning waking up with dried icing around my mouth and chocolate on my teeth wondering "What in the hell...? OH! Goody! Cookies'n'Cream for breakfast!!!" I would then proceed to sit in my underwear on either the couch or directly in front of my window unit air conditioning system and eat the cake. Judge all you want. I actually LOST weight that summer, and I'm proud to say my diet consisted of microwave meals, beer, and cake. Fuck. Off.