Thursday, January 22, 2009
A coupla years ago, I went on a school trip with one of my sons. Nothing special to write about, except I remember that day being especially brick, extra brick 'cause the teachers had us all walking around some bullshit ass historic Brooklyn pier. What also sticks out is the memory of one of my son's classmates named Shakira. My son was like 8 at the time, and because he attended what was supposedly the best public school in our borough, there were only a handful of kids of color in the school, less in his class. Anyways, the only other Black kid on this trip was a girl named Shakira. No lie, Shakira, at the time, must have been easily pushing 150 pounds, ankle to braids. In comparison to my kid who is tall for his age and was probably pushing 80lbs at the time, Shakira was effin ginormous. Like a junior version of Aretha Franklin from two days back. Without the hat though. Now being the only Black parent that attended this trip, I guess lil' Shakira took a liking to me. So we get on the bus at 8:30 am and once the shit started moving, Shakira immediately pulled out this big ass brown paper bag and starts going to town on some type'a egg and cheese bagel sammich, a bag of Lays chips, some cookies topped off with bottle of Snapple. Around 10 am, Shakira walks up to me as says, "Mister, I's hongrey", like she was seeking some sort of approval, then swiftly whipped out her bag, this time snacking on some donuts, some type of inorganic (and I might even guess, non-nutritional) "granola bar" topped with a bottle of Yoo-hoo chocolate milk. All this time, my kid was probably three bites deep into his apple for the day. Noon hits and the teachers announce it's officially lunch, kids sitting on cold ass benches opening up their lil lunch boxes and what not. Shakira pulls out this tupperware container from her book bag containing some type of rice, beans and chicken concoction and just as quickly, makes said contents disappear. By 1pm, Shakira is like, "Mister, I's hongrey, can you buy me something to eat?" Mind you, I don't really know Shakira or anyone of her family members like that, and I didn't sign on to be her daddy for the day, alls the while taking care of my son, so I sternly reply "Shakira, you just had lunch, and you don't really want to eat any of this junk food they're selling over here, plus, I'm not here to buy anyone any snacks." Without skipping a beat, Shakira looks me dead in the eye and pleads, "But Mister, I's HONGREY!"
Over the past three months, I think starting around Thanksgiving, I've been going to town in just about the same way lil Shakira was on that school trip. I mean, everything cooked, baked, fried, roasted, sauteed, frozen or jerked has been fair game, like I just released my inner food crack head. Problem is, magically outta nowhere, a knicca's put on 20lbs and feeling sluggish as fuck. Wifey stopped effin with a knicca too. In addition, I have some potential money meetings lined up for February and I remember reading somewhere that money seems to gravitate towards those that are more fit than those who aren't. Cool. So I decide that today, just to get some of my swag shit back, quick and right, I would go on this Master Cleanse diet. For those unaware, The Master Cleanse is a detox process where you can only consume lemon juice mixed with maple syrup and cayenne pepper. Nothing else. Not even a cup of coffee. One a my homies just came off a 10 day process and says he's feeling great, what with him losing 20lbs since January 2nd and releasing all types of toxins from his body. And his chick is telling my wife that knicca's stamina is waaaay off the charts. It's been months since anyone in my house said anything about stamina. "I can do this", I'm thinkin". "I got this."
Problem with this shit is that, regardless of whether all that lemon juice fills you up or not, all you effin think about is sinking your canines into an effin pot roast. Some ham too. With cranberry sauce. And a side of mac and cheese. Plus some red velvet cake. And ice cream. I am now twelve effin hours deep into this hunger strike with about 30 oz of lemonade swiggling up in my gullet and I'm trying to summon the willpower not to sneak into the fridge after everyone goes to bed and BEAST the eff out on any and everything in plain sight. Sneak because I eff'd up and announced last night to my household that I would be on this bullshit for ten days. TEN JOINTS! And they're like, "knicca you? Yeah right. 2 days tops", just cause family loves to fuck with a knicca like that, letting the hate percolate, just to see a knicca fall, then rain you with the "I told you so's, you effin loser dad husband fat fuckoff". Fuck.
So my shit is on steady not right, right about now. Around 6pm today, I was driving home from the city and had this brief feeling of euphoria, like I was on some natural high. Lasted about 15 minutes. Once that feeling ended though, I was back on some hongrier than I ever been in my whole effin life. Hongrier than Shakira probably.
Nine days left.
So, what did you eat today?