The night before last I had some yucca fries with a killer garlic sauce for a starter. Then I had a garlic chicken. Hey, it was cuban food. About ten minutes after the garlic chicken, I was rendered immobile by my insides. It was the IN-DIE, folks, and the indigestion is the biggest and best sign that you are officially…
That and a puzzled, furrowed brow, look every time you turn on MTV.
2 days. For 2 days, I was a mess because of some garlic. I use to drink a mess of alcohol followed by a cheeseburger chaser and now I’m flattened by garlic. What in the feck? I should change my diet, but I fear I’m more likely to start pre-gaming that medication the redneck comic in the flannel pitches on tv.
The whole thing reminded me of my mother.
Around ten years ago, I won a dinner for 2 in manhattan at a fabulous French restaurant through a “high sales” contest at the restaurant where I worked. The specialty at the French joint was -of course- garlic chicken. I took my mom and the plan was to see the broadway play, “The Vagina Monologues” afterwards.
Don’t ask me why, but the play was my mom’s choice. It surprised me because my mother thinks feminists “hate men.” She’s not exactly Gloria Steinem. Hell, she’s not even Mary Tyler Moore. My mother also kept referring to the play as the “Vagina CHRONICLES.” I don’t know why the hell she thought they were “chronicles,” but this amused me to no end. I kept saying, “Mom, it’s not an episodic. It’s one monologue per actress about vaginas. It’s not here’s my vagina today, tune in to see what happens to it tomorrow…”
Mom and I thoroughly enjoyed our garlic chicken, booze-filled dinner before heading over to the play. It was the same feeling I had while the Cuban garlic chicken was going down. It was the calm before the storm.
We sat in our velvety, theater chairs and then THE STORM HIT.
Mom had the IN-DIE. I, on the other hand, was about to die of mortification. Why? Because mom’s in-die was audible. She kept making a sound like this:
People sitting around us began to look at me. It was like it was my fault. One woman stared with a glare that said, “Get your mother out of here.” Another one seemed to be saying, “Your mother is clearly having a heart attack! Don’t you care!”
Of course I did, but I really wanted to see the “Chronicles” at this point.
But, the situation was dire. So, mom and I stomached as much of the production as we could (pun intended) and then I walked mom back to the train.
I put her into the car to head home at my dad. As mom looked out the window at me and the train pulled away, her face said, “Sorry. Sorry. I overdid it.”
A decade later my mom was pre-diabetic and hospitalized due to pneumonia. My mom, who had struggled with her weight her entire life, would lose 75 lbs. More impressively she’s kept it off FOR YEARS.
It’s a sad realization that your body can no longer endure what it used to. I think we unconsciously fight against this kind of change. But, the truth is we need to change with the times of our lives like Prince or Madonna.
Okay, maybe not like Madonna or Prince.
What about you? Have you cut out a certain foods that you love, simply because they no longer love you?
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