Food is a down and dirty battlefield

Last week we talked about food so I don’t know why food would be the topic of this column again, for a second week in a row.

I could just be getting lazy and mailing it in, or it could be that food is the centre of my universe — the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about as I fall asleep.

I even woke up last night around 3:30 a.m. and couldn’t fall back to sleep.

I started thinking about food. I thought, “Tomorrow is going to be a good, healthy food day. Lots of fruits and vegetables and healthy stuff. What should I start with at breakfast? Pancakes? No. No. I meant to think, ‘egg whites.’ I don’t know why I thought ‘pancakes.’ Mmm. Pancakes. Should I get up and make some?”

My mind went on like this for 15 minutes. This is not good.

Over the years I have written about my love and hate relationship with food. Two years ago this month I was celebrating a year of very healthy living and I was down to my high school weight and feeling great. I had food beat. Today I look like I have been stung by several bees.

My enjoyment of food and the weight gain that comes with it makes me physically uncomfortable and mentally selfconscious. It robs me of confidence. But this week, my weight gain is costing me money. Oh yes, this is getting real.

As the captain of my local yo-yo dieting team, it is a struggle to keep a wardrobe and it is impossible to always have a suit that fits. I have never bought a suit just because I wanted a suit. I always buy suits because I need a suit for something and none of the suits I own ever fit me. Correction: they fit me for one wearing.

I have three suits now in three sizes. Too big, a little too small and laughably too small (I bought it two years ago, of course).

So now after my latest shopping trip, I have four suits in four sizes. It is time to get serious again. Thankfully, sometimes the world will do me a favour. Early in the week I was travelling and stayed in a hotel that kindly offered a lovely looking platter of cookies in the lobby. I walked by the cookies and slowed down. I gave them a sideways glance but kept on walking. I was being strong. Then something clicked in my brain.

“Were those M&Ms in those cookies? I think they were. Oh well, moving on. But M&Ms? Let’s go back and have a peek. Maybe if they are M&Ms, we should have one. Well, two.”

They were M&Ms and I was definitely in for two.

Then a woman swooped in on the cookies just ahead of me, ignored the tongs and reached her fingers in. I watched closely. She did not pull a “Mission Impossible” move and deftly pluck two cookies without touching any other cookies. Her fingers groped like a clumsy bird’s beak as she grabbed two cookies and touched every cookie around it. Not a glancing touch. Those cookies moved.

There’s no way to know how many cookies she touched. It happened so quickly and it was so shocking. Oh, the humanity. I was horrified. There was no way I was taking any of those cookies. Well ... maybe ... no! No! I was not taking one of those filthy, filthy M&M cookies.

I considered alerting management that the entire batch was now contaminated and should be destroyed, but instead I just retired to my room in a mild huff.

I’ve seen this at buffets, too. I know the tongs must be the dirtiest thing ever because everyone grabs them, but at least if I grab a dirty tong, I have the option to go wash my hands before I eat my cookie or my sandwich. But some people at the buffet think the tongs are optional and they dig right in to the sandwich platter with their hands. They aren’t just picking the ones off the end, either. If they want roast beef, they will mine that platter for roast beef. Or egg salad. Or a chicken club wrap.

This completely and thoroughly disgusts me and I refuse to eat one of those sandwiches after they have been pawed over. Unless I’m like, really, really hungry. Or if I’m just a little hungry and don’t know when I’ll have a chance to eat again. I don’t want to get lightheaded.