Dammit, I'm Hungry
I am recalling a telephone conversation I had with my old friend Shagnasty quite some time ago and if I remember correctly it went something like this:
You know Bode it’s a hard life living witha a woman who wants to keep you healthy.
“How is that” I asked, knowing full well that he would tell me whether or not I asked.
“Well hells’fire, you stay hungry all of the time.”
“You mean she doesn’t feed you anything?”
“Oh no, it isn’t that. I get plenty to eat but the problem is that when I get through eating I still wish I had something to eat.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Not to you it doesn’t because looking at that big pot belly of yours I can tell that you wouldn’t know or understand what a fat free diet means.”(That was back in the days when I had a fat belly—but age and a bad back has eliminated that belly.)
“Tell me now, just what does a fat free diet do to you besides making you say ugly things to your friends?”
“Damn right I’ll tell you. It keeps you hungry all of the time for those good foods you were raised on and fed until some smart alec started telling women that they could keep their husbands living longer if they would keep them hungry. Man, I was raised on greasy foods that had that good down home taste to them and now I seldom get bacon twice a month; my beans are no longer cooked with a big chunk hog jowl; my eggs over easy are cooked in water instead of bacon or sausage grease and as half and half is no longer allowed in our house my cereal is eaten with the skimmed milk we used to feed our hogs.
And speaking of hogs, man, I can’t even eat cornbread any more. You know why? Cause they fatten hogs on corn. How would you like to live in a house where you could no longer enjoy that wonderful aroma of cornbread cooking in the oven?
I am stuffed with salads and vegetables, including broccoli that even President Bush wouldn’t eat. Fried foods are against the law — and I didn’t know there was another way to cook food until this fat free jazz came along. I tell you Bode, I’m treated like I’m a kid again, everything I want to eat or do is a no, no. I can’t have fried chicken except on rare occasions and those side dishes such as french fries, potato chips and fritos that give an entree taste and balance can be had only when she isn’t looking.
And sweets, for God’s sake Bode, she has taken those away from me too and you know how much I love candies, pies and cakes, jellies and jams. Hell man, she even tells me that peanut butter and crackers, the food of our youth, are both fattening. Did you ever try to eat soup or cheese without crackers? And even that cream gravy you wrote about that goes so well with chicken fried steak, biscuits, cornbread, creamed potatoes etc, is also a no, no.
The gravy would not be objectionable, she says, if it were not for the grease that is put in it to make it taste good and the potatoes would be alright if were not for the fattening ingredients put in them that makes them worth eating.
I tell you my friend it seems that every food that I like, every food that has a good taste to it has fat in it and therefore must be excluded from my diet. I have about come to the point where I think I had rather die from being happy and satisfied with a belly full of the good foods that I like than to starve to death on a diet that my wife is feeding me to make me live longer.
I say to that wife of mine, woman, I know you are trying to protect my health and extend my life, but for what purpose? At my age about the only thing left to live for is something to eat and now you are taking that purpose away from me by feeding me foods that leave me full but still hungry and unsatisfied. You are trying to get me to give up eating habits formed 70 and 80 years ago and that ain’t easy.”
At this point he stopped to catch his breath and I quickly said “——, I hate to make you feel bad, but do you know what I do when my wife is out of town or having lunch with the girls. I go to the Bar-B-Q place; order a sandwich with a piece of meat that has some fat on it; eat and enjoy every bite and when I have finished I sit there wishing I had ordered two sandwiches instead of one.”
“That sounds good” said he, “but I have already figured out what I am going to do the first time my wife leaves town. I’m going to buy me a pound of Jimmy Dean Sausage and at breakfast time I will cook the entire pound and what I don’t eat for breakfast I will put in the refrigerator and eat it cold at snack time. Into that sausage grease I will put three eggs, cooking them “over easy” and when they come out of that grease they will look as if someone had thrown dirt on them.
Using some of that sausage grease I will make a big pan of cream gravy with which to drown my toast and about six patties of sausage, then cutting into those dirty looking eggs and a couple of those gravy covered sausage patties I will mix them up into a mess that would leave my wife gagging. Then my friend I will sit there and eat that glorious mess with a big grin on my face that will be the smile of a happy man.
And Bode, I hold you responsible to see that my last request is carried out. Should all this good greasy food kill me, don’t you dare let them wipe that smile off my face.”