A new study on health food diets has finally blown over. You may not have seen it because the Feds buried it in their new tax revisions (when you buy a senator you have to get a receipt unless it’s a cash transaction). So now a lot of my friends have gone back to frying marsh mellows, eating éclairs and generally feeling good about their childhood.
The study said that third cousins who eat cheese burgers topped with bacon and pancakes are no more at risk than third cousins that eat avocados. Sure its welcomed news but the government probably paid millions for it. Meanwhile male hair loss remains a mystery, like Stonehenge or Lewis and Clark’s sleeping arrangements and eczema causes heartbreak for thousands of nudists and my urinary track is an accident just waiting to happen. Where are our priorities?
I take medicine to keep my plumbing up to code but it makes me talk in my sleep. My wife says I talk about leveraging commercial buy-outs and she’s very impressed.
But at midnight I binge eat in my sleep. I started to keep this to myself but there are probably others out there with the same problem. People don’t like to talk about it.
I woke up one morning after a full moon to discover my hand clutching an empty peanut butter jar and there were anchovies and Oreo cookie crumbs all over the bed, an empty container of Blue Bell ice cream by my pillow and I realized I needed help. I also felt there might be a deal for a reality show here.
Sometimes it would be cashews. Other times sauerkraut. Sardines. Black olives. One time I ate three dozen Dunkin’ Donuts, assorted packs. Candy sprinkles and glazed sugar flakes were all over the bed. The car keys were on the nightstand and a trail of half eaten doughnut nuggets on the floor led from the bedroom all the way downstairs through the kitchen and out to the garage. The car door was still open.
I went on FaceBook and found a page for Binge Eating Disorders (BED) which had 8,576,321 members with 2, 475 on Chat at that very moment. It was a wonderful page, a place you didn’t feel like a creep just because you consumed an entire box of cute little animal crackers while in REM sleep.
My BED group was led by a retired priest. You were given a lapel pin about the size of a dime that said “People see you but not the real you so you must believe in yourself and through this realization the beauty of your inner being will manifest itself into a life style of success.”
They met in a high school gym, sad looking people sitting around in folding chairs. They took turns sobbing, clutching tissue paper and comforting each other. I was about to speak ‘’ Hi, my name is Joe and I scarf while I snooze.” but then I realized this was the wrong group. It was actually a support group for people who have had to wait more than thirty minutes in a doctor’s office. Dreamers. So I said as much to them and they called me Uncaring and now I don’t think we’ll ever be close. The priest wanted my pin back.
But I wasn’t uncaring; I was a guy with an eating disorder who is now in recovery. I am working to solve my habit the old fashion way---I faced up to the truth, Sweet Pea, and work hard at keeping my mouth closed as much as possible. That usually helps most anything.
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