Eat This

EAT THIS!

-a true story by Jen Sebay

I hate him. He is becoming the sister I never wanted...not in the
physical sense of the word, but that spirit of competition that just
irks me. It started out all very innocent. I was concerned over his
weight gain and as he doesn't have medical insurance, suggested that he
try some herbal alternatives. Then came Billy Banks Taebo mania in the
comfort of your own home.

When he started purchasing salon shampoos and hair products - it was
then that I began to get a little worried. I may credit my smoother
complexion to him as he did turn me on to Oil of Olay, but this is
getting ridiculous. I mean I'm proud that he's turning back the clock,
but must I be reminded EVERY single time that he gets carded for liquor
and I don't. It wouldn't be so bad if my father would humbly enjoy this
second wind without verbal commentary of his success with the fountain
of youth.

Its the smirks. Those looks he gives when he sees that I'm failing
miserably at my workout. I was sick this weekend - do you hear this???
sick. I was forced to lay in bed for 3 days and veg out. I had no
choice. There was nothing I could do. His response to my misfortune?
Tae Bo in the living room with an evil grin on his face as I laid there
in agony on the couch praying to God for it to be over or that some
natural disaster would cause him to fall through the floor. And it
didn't stop there. He knew I was bed ridden. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to
run. While I FED my cold ( funny how much you can eat when you're not
burning ANY of the fat) he sat there at every meal with full plates of
veggies and mercilously patronized my eating habits."You know Jen,
you're not going to get into that two-piece I hear you talking about if
you keep eating like that." "How about a piece of broccoli to finish
off that 2000 calorie bowl of ice cream you just ate." "More lard with
that burrito, Jen?" Maybe he wants me to force feed him one of those
Tae Bo gloves that he uses in his workout.

We called a truce. I felt a little better on Saturday afternoon and he
granted himself a day off as he called it. He took me to this wonderful
restaurant called MiMi's cafe in Fairfield. If you haven't heard of it
- think New Orleans at a Denny's price. Get my dad in a restaurant like
that and it's all over. I had daydreams of him stuffing his face to the
point of gluttonous lethargy. Yes, today would be the day that his 2
days of workout would be spoiled in one sitting and I would laugh at
his weakness for 12-oz steaks, buttery muffins and lots and lots of
thick Fattening gravy. I conspired with me, myself and I to sabotage
his will to avoid these evil foods. With my eyebrow cocked - "Hey dad,
can't you just smell the juices of that tender sirloin steak?""I'll
make sure they bring us lots of rolls and appetizers to start this
thing off."- I even brought over a menu while we waited to be seated so
that he would be forced to peruse the items most likely to cause his
fall from dietary grace.

The waitress sauntered over. Just my luck! She was a cute tall, blond
blue-eyed chic. Another of dad's weaknesses. Between her and I, he was
doomed. I felt confident enough to relax and order my 12-oz steak,
mashed potatoes with gravy on top ( and on the side) and mozzarella
sticks for an appetizer. I waited in breathless anticipation as he
opened his mouth to order....Time Stopped....I no longer heard the
other patrons in the restuarant...In slow motion he pointed at the menu
and said...."Vegetarian pasta. Absolutely no meat. Salad on the side.
No dressing. Rolls with no butter and a water please." NOOO!!! I was
horrified. I grabbed the waitress from rushing off, "You don't
understand. He's joking. Dad tell her you're joking. What happened to
the 12-oz steak and potatoes???!!!!" "Jen," he smirked (that DAMN
smirk), "you know I don't eat that crap anymore." AAGGHH!!

Things got worse. I come from an Asian family. Our pigmentation sheds
years off our actual age. Unfortunately, my fair-skinned Caucasian of a
mother cursed me with half of her shoddy genes among other things. I
love my caucasoidal peoples, but let's be real - they age horribly. A
year ago I passed for 16 years old many times, even though I'm 24. My
pushing-50 father looks as young as 30-something.

The waitress is turned onto him. They start this whole sickening
interaction that loosely resembles flirting. At some point he is
bestowing upon her the secret to our youthful countenance. She is
flabbergasted, "You mean to tell me that this is your daughter and not
your girlfriend?" He is pruning like a peacock. ( a FAT peacock) I
decide to join in this one.

"Yes ma'am that's my father," I beamed," We're blessed with youthful
vitality. He doesn't look a day over 30 now does he? And I've been told
I don't look much more than 17."

"Actually," she replies,"I was guessing you're at least 25."

*BITCH*

He smirked.

We drove home in silence. I retreated to the bedroom to stew over the
day's events and he to the restroom, probably to perform some bulimic
exercise. How could I put a stop to this madness? He can't beat me at
every turn. I have youth, beauty and intelligence (he's not the
sharpest tool in the shed) on my side.

CHOCOLATE! Yes, rich, decadent sinful folds of chocolate tucked in the
fluffy layers of a German Chocolate Cake! Quietly, I slipped out of the
house down to the local market. I counted pennies to buy the weapon of
destruction. He was watching Star Trek: The Next Generation when I set
the thing on the coffee table. Sorry, Pop, even Captain Picard's
adventures can't save you now. I caught his longing stare as I crossed
to the kitchen to grab two plates and two forks. Slowly, I dipped the
knife into the soft cake -

"Don't worry I'll cut you a slice, Dad."

"No, no, that's okay, Jen. Don't waste your time."

"OK, if you insist."

Bite after luxurious bite, he painfully watched. mmmmm. "This is so
good dad, sure you don't want any." He couldn't even answer. I made
excuse to leave the living room and hid behind my bedroom door. Slowly,
but surely the perpetrator reached for the knife. Go ahead, come on,
you can do it I mentally goaded him. The halogen lamp caught the gleam
of the knife as he reached in the air and....

WACK!!!!

Jeeeeesssuuuusss!

Not only did he cut a piece, but he served himself a slice equivalent
to half the cake while almost taking out the whole table.

"Yesssssssss!!!!" I wailed as I pumped my fist in the air. "You
lose!!!!!" Hah! I win!

"I don't care!!!" he shrieked, "I'll eat the whole damn thing!"

And he did.

Nothing like sweet success. hehe :)