I’ve recently made a disturbing observation about myself: every morning the only reason I get out of bed is Golden Grahams.
Yeah, I eat Golden Grahams.
Listen:it’s a delicious cereal. They’re not at all nutritious, I know. But when I’m comfortable and warm and sucking the luscious nectar of sleep each morning, the force that pulls me from my sheets is not the promise of a paycheck, the throbbing annoyance of an alarm clock, or the urge to be productive.
It’s those beautiful, sugar-coated honey-flavored cardboard squares.
I can’t help it; it appears my entire life is driven by food. In the morning, I wake up for cereal. At work, I fantasize about what I’ll eat for lunch. At the end of the day, I think about how awesome dinner is going to be. Last night after a 12-hour shoot, I got super excited about a pepperoni roll that I got at a farmer’s market on Friday and intentionally wrapped in foil and put in the freezer in order to prepare for such an occasion.
I’ve only just recently recognized this trend and so I have only just recently realized how this is probably not the best way to live my life. Food is my only motivator. Food is literally the reason I get out of bed in the morning. I fixate on it, I daydream about it, and I am only really in ecstasy when I’m in the process of chewing.
Think about that.
It’s a wonder I’m not a thousand pounds. One thousand. You know, I saw a lady the other day who had to turn sideways to fit into the door of an establishment. 
It was a food establishment.
When I realized that my entire life is spent looking forward to the next time I can eat something incredibly delicious, I thought of this woman and her door dilemma. Every day she has to deal with the fact that she can’t fit through a door, go on an airplane, fit in a theater seat…heck, she probably has to turn sideways to scoot down small grocery store aisles. But it’s okay because in between those inconveniences, she’s chewing in ecstasy. And listen – I want to make it clear that I’m not making fun of her. I’m not. Because I understand how delicious food is and no matter how times I get into my skinny jeans, a burger will bring me right back to square one every time. And there’s no guarantee that I won’t eventually be as large as the woman I recall, who struggles to complete routine tasks.
It’s clear that I can’t just stop eating good food. That never works. I’ve abstained from deliciousness for exactly three weeks but no longer. And a mere three days of delicious indulgence can counteract three weeks of healthy eating. Sad, but true.
I am Sisyphus, and a fatness is my rock.
So this is my appeal to foodmakers everywhere:
Please stop making food so delectable. I know I like it and I beg for it all the time, but you’ve gotta believe me: I want to be able to still fit through doors when I grow up. Like, regular doors. Not supersized American doors that will no doubt have to be considered in new architecture plans because we’re all super fatty fats. So please make healthy food. Let’s just get rid of all the bad stuff. If I have no delicious options, I will eventually have no option but to eat boring, healthy food – which will eventually result in my skinniness.
And don’t pretend that delicious food that is also healthy exists. It’s not true. It’s not.
So let’s just do a mass exodus of all yumminess so that next summer I can finally go swimming. I missed out again this year because it appears that the only swimwear that covers my problem areas is a scuba suit and it’s really just too tight to be flattering.
Okay, so thanks for the consideration. I really appreciate it.
Puppies and Sprinkles,
Soon-to-be-skinny Jackie ♣
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