2.25.09

Dear Rachel Dratch,

Man, on Friday Ben and I were discussing crazy things we did as kids. He bred and raised dogs. Instead of doing that or perhaps something like collecting legos or special collector editions of musical soundtracks, I would eat for time. I know this doesn't make a lot of sense right now, so I should probably explain.

When my sister and I were kids, we were probably too young to spend time at home by ourselves. Our parents were divorced and worked, so the summer time found us with a lot of time just the two of us. I think I may have been eleven or twelve and my sister was three years younger. At the time it didn't seem like such a bad idea to leave us at home alone during the day because we were good kids. I guess my parents never minded too much the frantic calls we would make when one of us would draw a knife on the other as we were unloading the dishwasher or the times we would be using these walking sticks as microphones and then it would quickly turn violent and the sticks became swords and we would square off around the kitchen table. We would get so angry, and then one of us would get so scared that we would have to get our parents involved. We'd call them, probably crying, and explain the situation. More often than not, we would be ordered to separate and go to our individual rooms where we would cool out.

Those times of such heated anger would soon vanish from our minds because that heat would transform into hunger for both of us. Eventually, we would use the air vents in our bedrooms to communicate plans of reconciliation and celebration. We'd leave our rooms and meet in the kitchen. And here is where eating for time would come in. I am not sure what my sister would do because I always did this quietly because I knew it was kind of insane. During the summer, my parents would get us the food we always liked but couldn't bring for lunch at school. I cannot remember how many cans of Chef Boyardee pasta with meatballs I would individually consume. We would each eat an entire can, alone, for lunch. We were never really fat kids, but one summer my mom did mention that we should maybe think about cutting back after we went swimming one afternoon. I guess she saw the splash we made when we jumped in and how long it took for us to come back up. I'm just saying that sometimes even now I feel like I might be willing to give up being fit for my love of delicious and disgusting foods. And then I see Carnie Wilson or think about Luther Vandross (R.I.P.) and am reminded of the secret violence food does to us. Ok, really I just cannot afford gastic bypass and I also cannot imagine my stomach being the size of a walnut. Baby, I love to eat! But it needs to be in moderation because I finally look good!

After we would make up, and generally after we had eaten our can of the Chef and had at least two cans of Coke, we would pop open another can and perhaps also a container of sugar cookies. You probably know the kind. They're from your grocery store bakery, just plain old sugar cookies which should not be confused with the ones covered in icing and stay soft for ridiculous amounts of time. I found these cookies as an adult and have stories regarding them that are best left to their own letters. Well, I would guess I would start out with one cookie. I'd take the cookie and the Coke and plop down in the living room, ready to watch Ricki Lake before we'd switch it to Oprah. Soon that first cookie would become a second, sometimes a third. But many times it would become, "I am going to just eat cookies for the next ten minutes." I wouldn't limit myself to a number of cookies, instead I would limit myself to a set amount of time in which I would eat whatever I could until that time was up. Many other times I would extend it by two or three minutes, depending on what I was eating. Most notably, the extension added to timed eating would occur when I was really enjoying something that I couldn't really see the damage I was doing. I couldn’t see the damage until I had eaten an entire package of something, but this rarely happened. Only fat people eat entire packs of things. This included Doritos and Oreos. Ok, I lie. I am pretty sure I have eaten at least one package of those cookies-that-stay-soft in its entirety as an adult. I’m an emotional eater, be it happiness, or a little sad, or mostly just so fucking bored.

Apparently no one else in the world understands how fun or not eating for time can be. I mean, if you enjoy it don't limit how much you eat, just how long. The weird thing is that when I lived alone, I would often find myself sitting on the couch, bag of double-flavored Doritos in hand, and giving myself five more minutes of eating. Those MFs are just too good to only eat a handful. I know you will understand this. I had to get this to you before I forgot again. You will find attached a picture of the reminder I wrote so as to not forget. I hope you are well!

Jon