Saturday, January 13, 2007


I don't know why I ever even eat cake anyway.

Due to a surgical procedure nearly ten years ago (has it been that long? wow) which cordoned off a small section of my stomach and placed a permanent silicone ring at the outlet, I have been relatively unable to eat bready, doughy things.

Of course, that's a good thing. I don't knead need bready, doughy things in my diet. But occasionally, even after all these years, I'm tempted to try some.

Tonight Martha wanted to make a cake. Meh, why not? Might as well do something interesting, since we're pretty much stuck in this place until the ice melts.

DadGUM it smelled good, wafting through the house. After it had come out of the oven and cooled, I threw caution to the wind and had a square of it.

And, as usual, regardless of how much I chew it before I swallow it, it reconstitutes into a large gumball and sits in my stomach, refusing to move past the ring.

Which also prevents liquid from moving through, so I can't even get a drink.


One of my most helpful skills which I have developed over the past ten years has been the ability to ... ahem ... bring back what I just ate -- in hopes of unblocking the passageway. The only problem I can't seem to shake is my inability to puke in a public restroom while anyone else is in there. If I'm desperate, I can usually do it quietly enough not to arouse suspicion, but even then, I have a terrible time. My first instinct is always to try to put myself into the other person's shoes, to try not to do anything that would discomfit someone else or bring attention to myself. I can't imagine how grossed-out I would be if I had to listen to someone retching in a public restroom. The idea of being heard while hurling my toenails is abhorrent to me. I'll wait as long as I possibly can, hoping to snatch at least thirty seconds alone to take care of the problem. I've been in places where it just hasn't been possible, and I've instead chosen to walk around to the back of the facility to look for a suitable place.

Every time I eat cake or sample a donut or even eat a slice of pan-crust pizza, I end up solemnly vowing never to do it again. Someday I hope I'll learn. I don't really need any of those things, anyway.

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