Yesterday I convinced myself that I ate the worm harboring inside an
apple. This is the only way to explain the strangeness of the apple’s interior.
It went from firm, crisp, sour whiteness to a golden, felt like substance where
a worm surely lived. I’m not about to waste food so I just ate as much of the
whiteness as I could without disturbing the worm’s residence. I still think the
worm found a way into my intestines as punishment for violating its fruity
adobe. And since the only acceptable parasite I will host is a tapeworm, it stands
to reason this is the creature that has crawled out of the apple and into me.
With my newfound tapeworm tenant I was sure to be skinny by dinner. I’ve
seen all the stories. I’ve read the news. I know the remedy. Ahhh, the remedy.
Something about your lips to a dish of milk and the tapeworm will crawl up
through your innards, out your mouth and into the milk. No thanks. First, I’m
not a cat. Second, I despise milk. I mean despise to the degree that watching
another drink it makes me throw up in my mouth a little. Thinking about it is
causing nausea. Third, who in their right mind would WANT a worm to retrace its
steps through their digestive system like they were some kind of reverse water
slide? Fourth, if I so much as felt this thing on my tongue I would literally
die. Like on the spot flat line.
Finally, I don’t mind being a mini version of myth busters. I could stand
to drop a few pounds even if that means a no face creature is consuming me from
the inside: I’m willing to test the theory. In fact, for that reason alone I
sort of cherish the tapeworm. I’m going to be nice to it. Maybe even challenge
it a bit. Maybe try to add a friend or two. I have more apples. You never know.
There could be other lonely worms that won’t mind meeting their soul mate in my
bowels. Single White Tapeworm Seeks Soul Mate For Organic Ingestion of Hoechst.
Ha! Get it? You say my last name like “host.” It’s perfect.
Anyway, what’s going on inside me gets weirder. Last night I was
starving to death in the middle of the night because I am an eater who is
trying not to eat. As much. As usual. So I went to bed without snacking and had
something like prunes, a diet soda and a single serving of microwave instant
mac n cheese. Ok that was a bad choice. I wanted to poop (because I think each
turd must weigh a pound hence weight loss), the instant serving thing was gross
because I was too lazy to stir the potion into the hard mac and water so it didn’t
cook right. Note I was too lazy to cook to begin with. Finally, I drank the
diet soda even though I have been warned it will give me cancer because surely
the tapeworm is more susceptible to fatal diseases and it would be affected by
the cancer first, not me. I was in the clear. But I didn’t poop. And I was
hungry still.
I digress. It was the middle of the night. Me and the tapeworm got up
to pee. This is more weight loss. I think pee weighs half a pound. (*If this
elimination theory was remotely correct I would look like I was from Ethiopia
will flies buzzing around my lips by now.) After we deposited the mid night
half pounder of pee I was forced to address the tapeworms raucous noisemaking.
Make a right and I go back to sleep. Left, and there is kitchen bliss.
The tapeworm made a left so I followed it. In this slumber stupor I
manage to molest the fridge and cabinets. Vaguely I note this must be what
being drunk feels like. I can’t find anything to eat. The fat chick that lives
in me decides we all need a cheese and mustard sandwich. Somehow I make this
happen. I wrestle two pieces of Weight Watchers bread from the bag in the
fridge. Yes, I keep my bread in the fridge. Yes, I recognize this is probably
not even real bread. I steal three slices of my husband’s provolone cheese and
squeeze some spicy mustard onto it all. Wah-lah. Bottoms up tapeworm.
My house is so small that I can just about stand in three different
rooms at once. My point being that I was neither awake nor holding a sandwich
by the time I got back in bed. This was impressive. The tapeworm means
business. I was somewhat satiated and instantly asleep. I dreamed that the fat
bitch inside me lost the sandwich battle to the tapeworm and I would be a size
two before my alarm went off.
I woke up sadly disappointed. Clearly I let the tapeworm down. Either
that or it was a disabled tapeworm. Only one way to find out. Candy bar for breakfast.
I accomplished this to a degree by eating a Skinny Cow peanut butter chocolate
candy bar for breakfast chased by a zero sugar Red Bull. Take that tapeworm.
Yes, I recognize neither of these were actual food items meant for consumption.
Try to keep up people: I am an experiment in progress. I can eat outside the
normal bounds of reality.
I attempted another apple before lunch in an effort to entice the
weight loss process with a second tapeworm assistant. Either that or tapeworm
one would find happiness with tapeworm two. At any rate, there was no worm this
time and the skinny bitches could keep their ranks as is for one more day.
At lunch I decided toasted WW bread (that’s Weight Watchers not whole
wheat, though it claims to be) with Nutella spread was in order. Why not? After
all, I wasn’t really eating it, the tapeworm was. So I get the bread out, the
same bread used to vessel my midnight cheese and mustard concoction into my
unconscious face last night and….
GASP. The bread was covered in mold all along two sides. I’m not
talking about a little bit. I am talking about Muir Woods mold. The kind of
mold people take pictures of. It’s in science books. People make medicine out
of this shit. I was instantly frozen. Poor worm. What have I done? I have
ruined my skinny chances! I’m surely toxic now. I’ve killed the tapeworm. No
way could it survive this fungus, and it ate the fungus surely as I inhaled it
last night. I don’t even remember chewing. It all happened so fast. There was
blinding fridge light, a grabbing of a bread shaped bag, the slathering,
squeezing of mustard, the improper rewrapping of cheese. It’s all coming back
to me now. That late night snack went down as smooth as a whipped cream
whippet. I didn’t even notice the growth. Didn’t taste or feel it. But I ate
it.
And now I am left with these facts. There is no worm. Still no poop. I’m
out of bread. Nutella is not an option. Don’t eat in the dark.
I stress ate crunchy Cheeto’s after this dilemma and I clearly gained
two, if not three, pounds of grief over my lost worm.
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