Comfort me

03 May 2011 11:30 AM Categories: Food | Writing prompts

When stressed, when pushed to the edge, here is what I don’t crave: fluffy mashed potatoes laced with butter and cream with just enough salt to tingle and enough pepper to bite, a bitter fleck punctuating the unctuousness; French fries crisped with grease, a thin layer of crunchy skin over steamy softness; grilled cheese, the ideal combination of browned bread and gooey melt, fat in its two classic forms. I don’t go for the melting bowl of ice cream or the calorie-laden shake.

Instead, I live off of chocolate and alcohol, though I prefer my empty calories in liquid form. I don’t want the mind-dulling effects of carbs and butter. I want the emotion-tugging action of booze, the nightly IPA chased with red wine. And it has to be the good stuff. No cheap alcohol for me. I won’t drink it, will miss the sloshing effects, will go to bed clean and sober and bored as shit, that and worried, worried about what is next, worried about where I am, where I am going.

So I stock up. Soon I’ll be visiting different liquor stores on my way home from various appointments, cruising their wine selection, anticipating the velvety texture of red on my tongue. Because something is wrong. Something is dreadfully wrong and I’m not sure what it is and I’m not sure what to do about it.

But, oh, am I thin, thin as a reed quaking in the wind, thin as a sheet of paper being carried away by a wind gust. My problems are written somewhere, on my mind, hidden on my body, locked in the physicality of thin, of table manners, of the constant harangue of my mind, of them, of abandonment. I want to seduce abandonment, want to make him my lover, show him a thing or two before I abandon him myself.

I’ll leave him alone at the bar nursing his drink. There will be no announcement. I’ll excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room and won’t come back and I’ll never call. I will stop chasing beer with the wine. All my drinking will be social. After I abandon abandonment, I will eat the occasional square of chocolate. Otherwise, my diet will be balanced, a mix of green and beige and red and orange, the crispy nestled next to gooey, tart intermingling with sweet, placating comfort bustling with health.

Until then: Proost!