Week 15: The 1/3 Life Crisis

My friend likes to say “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” but I’m not sure if I agree with her on that. I have forgotten what skinny feels like in the past two years of my life. I no longer know what it feels like to look in the mirror and count ribs. In college, my roommates used to poke fun at me for having the physique of a 12 year old boy, but you know what? I’d take that bone rack body over a curvy one any day. It’s not like we’re in Africa and you need curves to show everyone else how rich you are. I don’t really have a choice anyway… at this point in my life, which I'm currently calling the 1/3 life crisis (having not reached mid-life), I’ve finally learned to accept that I’m just never going to hit puberty. And should I start to care, the world isn’t over, puberty can be purchased. 

So here are my current options for body types: a round 12 year old boy or a scrawny 12 year old boy. Unfortunately I’ve been the round 12 year old boy lately. I know all too well what if feels like to put a crab cake benedict or stuffed shrimp in my mouth. Obviously it’s orgasmic. So…. Does skinny ever really feel so incredible that you eventually forget about food? In college I didn’t think too hard about achieving the Kate Moss’ heroin chic look, it just came naturally. Not because of heroin, but because every day of my life consisted of UT cafeteria salads and Natty LIGHT. For anyone who says beer makes you gain weight, try that for a week and see how you turn out.

Today’s a mixed bag of emotions. I just don’t know what the 1/3 Life period should entail. I look at cute children playing with toys in front of me. I also check out some lady’s hot husband to the left of me. I find myself desperately want to hand my life over to pregnancy and a husband who grills bacon cheeseburgers in the backyard all day and every day because he’s independently wealthy. Yet, I’ve been dieting all week. For what? To reminisce on the glory days? I don’t know. Ryan’s been dieting as well and I can’t figure out what his motivation is. I’ve already told him that I like him better when he’s heavy so less girls like him. But then again, maybe that was too much of my inner crazy for him to handle and he’s getting ready to leave me. Like when a girl gets a boob job and dumps the boyfriend who bought them for her, only to "upgrade" to much hotter men and then hits a brick wall when she realizes she's been way too much of a slut. Just a theory. Nah, he's not doing that.

We’re at The Brunchery in South Tampa and despite some raving reviews, this is our first time. While waiting to be seated I’m internally struggling, trying to make up my mind on whether today is going to be an overindulging “cheat” or yet another day of deprivation…………………………………..CHEAT!  

Eventually we are seated in the back near the kitchen and I’m actually happy about it. I don’t want too many people looking at me today so I sit right up against the wall. My entire body is fried from the beach this past weekend and my thick white tan lines look like extra straps coming out of my white sundress. By the way this is my 48^th hour wearing this sundress. Ryan’s forehead is fried as well and my face is slightly swollen as if I slept overnight in a tanning bed. We look like two awful tourists.  Suddenly it clicks. I know why I need to be skinny. I need to be skinny so that at the very least if someone sees me like this again they can say “Look at that nasty leather face girl with the awesome body.” That’s a hell of an upgrade from “Look at that leather-faced cow.”

From the second we sat down I had been staring at the special: Crab and Cream Cheese Quiche. Well Brunchery, don’t mind if I do! I can tell Ryan is struggling because he’s been cutting carbohydrates out of his diet all week and it’s taking everything in his power to stick with it. He gets a bacon and ham filled omelette with a side of grits but I don’t think he’ll actually be eating them since they are carbs. I go ahead and get the Crab and Cream Cheese Quiche Special and it comes with a variety of sides. I’m shocked when the words “Harvest Grain with Mushroom Soup” come out of my mouth. Who the hell have I become with this self moderation and how long will this last?

Their coffee special was the Brunchery Blend of white chocolate, coconut and caramel. Again, don’t mind if I do. Fantastic. I drink it black like a true man. I’m fortunate that everyone else’s gibberish clouds the air, drowning out the outrageous noises my stomach is making. After a week of digesting spinach leaves, bananas, soup, eggs and fish filets in miniscule portions, it’s almost as if it knows that real food is coming. I’m concerned that these noises combined with my now 3^rd cup of coffee are going to somehow create an alien that I may give birth to at the Brunchery. It’s a sick thought so I keep it to myself and continue to smile and nod my head at Ryan as he tells me wonderful things.

Our meal comes and the portions are pretty small. It’s a blessing in disguise, they’ve made it easy for us. I toss the muffin and decide it’s not for today. If I’m going to cheat it’s going to be with this massive mound of cream cheese in front of me, not a stupid muffin. The quiche is out of this world. It was a small piece so I savored every bit of it. The soup was amazing as well, although for something called “Harvest Grain with Mushroom,” I didn’t see a single mushroom.  My mind may have been playing tricks on me though after such a long week of disappointing meals. Ryan enjoyed and finished his omelette but I felt bad for him. I could tell he was yearning for more. He pushed his grits aside and I stared at them until determining it was a sin to waste. So I started conquering it for him without all the butter. The Brunchery has such great grits that they actually tasted great plain. You don’t find that often.  

The bill was only $22.43. Our cheapest brunch yet AND the small amount of food was great. Apparently starving your body feeds your wallet. To be honest, as we walked out, there was definitely the feeling of emptiness. We’ve eaten appetizers bigger than that entire meal. I’m concerned about what my readers will think, but then realize that down the line when I eventually crack and go on a full blown binge, it will be that much more hilarious and enjoyable. Perhaps next week, if I am going to decrease my food intake again, I’ll just increase my liquid intake. I have a vision and it’s mimosa-based. I haven’t told Ryan yet but next Sunday is going to be legless. Just wait.