2004-07-30 - 11:18 a.m.
Eat, Drink, and Be Scary
I have an eating disorder. Well, I don’t really, but that’s what Joey Ravioli keeps telling people. I don’t know how many of his co-workers and friends have told me to eat. OK, I lost weight through the whole ordeal with my mother and, I agree, it sucks. I now weigh 106 pounds. That’s messed up for a 33-year-old man. But Joey...sheesh! He keeps telling the story of how I ate only three of the ravioli that his mom made and how I took the cheese out of them first. Joey’s girl sent me an e-mail. “Eat, would you!” she admonished.
Last night, Cher and I met Joey, some of his co-workers, and Papa Fazul for drinks. Joey and Papa Fazul kept breaking my balls about how little I eat and how I should eat more, etc. Papa Fazul and I had a moment, and he sincerely suggested that I talk to someone about my “problem.” They mean well, and I love ‘em for it, but there is no problem. I have a problem gaining weight. That’s about it. I’m a picky eater. Meat? Blech! Cheese? Some. (Lactose intolerance does a number on me.) I can do some cheeses but not others. Milk? Nope. Ice cream? See Cheese. Stopped drinking pop. Stopped eating chocolate candy. Stopped eating candy in general. Other than that, I pretty much eat anything.
Joey says, “I’ve seen you eat! That’s not eating!”
I say, “Yes it is.”
“Dude, no it isn’t,” he says. “You play with your food like a kid.”
Play with my food? I’d try to make sculptures with it if I could get away with it.
I don’t know who else is left for Joey to tell. I walked into the locker room this morning and Joey, Papa Fazul, and the guy who cleans the pool turned around and looked at me. “I was just talking about you,” Joey said. Great!
I think I’ll take up drinking. “We need to put you on a program,” Papa Fazul says. If they could get me an I.V. full of Guinness while I’m sleeping, I wouldn’t protest. Until I gain weight, however, I guess I’ll have to hear Joey tell the ravioli story. At least that’ll get him to stop telling the story of how I made him sprain his ankle last year. I thought he’d never stop telling that one.
