Wednesday, July 21, 2010

And Now I'm Pissed At My Grandmother

My Grandmother has a bad penchant for buying food she doesn't eat.  She's done it a lot for the past several years -- I fear it's a sign of her oncoming senility -- yet I've only really noticed it lately, whenever My Fucking Father has bitched at her and at me about her.

This happened when I came home from coffee this morning after yet another "normal" cycle of sleep.  I see all these bags with vegetables in them.  Oh no, not again; Father yelled at her about buying so many veggies because she doesn't eat them all and it ends up being thrown away after it goes bad.  I remind Grandmother about this; she dismisses that and him.  OK; I'm so upset at My Fucking Father nowadays, I'm kind of glad to see her stand up to him.  I draw inspiration from it, in fact.

But it kind of turned on me tonight.  After I got home I was a tad hungry.  I remembered Grandmother, for some godforsaken reason, bought Cheesecake Factory cheesecake.  Hmmm, chessecake, and I didn't see anyone else touch it besides her a few days ago, so I thought I'd take a piece or two.

As usual, Grandmother comes out whenever she hears commotion in the kitchen.  I was short-tempered when I heard her open her bedroom door, so I just stood there, looking at the archway from the hall to the kitchen, waitiing for her to sidle through like nothing's going on.

Instead she poked her head around and saw the cheesecake on the stove.  "Eat it!" she said.  Well, no shit I'm eating it.  If I weren't eating it, it wouldn't be on the oven, now would it?  Did you think I wanted to just bring it out to let it breathe?  Sorry, I was being very short when it comes to stupid comments like that.  I just didn't want to hear it tonight.

She then started to wax nostalgic about the cheesecake.  Mind you, there are 12 slices in a pie, and there were 11 pieces left.  No one touched it.  We may like the cheesecake, it's just that no one wanted to eat it, no matter how many times Grandmother buys food, no matter how much she cajoles us.  Still, Buddha bless her (I guess), she tries: "Tell Father to eat it!" she cries.  Uh, I'm in no better speaking terms with him than you are, Grandmother.

Then, she utters the comment that really set me off.  "It's too sweet for me."  Too sweet?  One slice of cheesecake and you decide it's too sweet.  We have an excuse not to eat it.  Yours is, "It's too sweet."  Is that why you haven't eaten any more?  And are you then saying that we should eat our share, else just throw it away??  No, that can't be true, because that would affirm exactly what My Fucking Father's talking about: You buy shit, then don't use it.  She has done this before, but tonight it felt like, to me, she was assuming that I was just going to pitch in and help consume it.

I saw the bottom of the box after I took out two slices.  One of them has 510 calories.  I just ate one-third of my daily caloric intake a few hours ago, and that doesn't include the coffee and cookie I had this morning, the banana this afternoon, and the popcorn and Coke I had watching Despicable Me this evening (verdict on the movie: Good, touching at points, but cut away from the story too often.  B).  I am panicking right now because I feel like I swallowed a fucking pygmy and will be shitting its entrails come morning.  I am mentally beating myself over the head because I regret having not exercised today and instead decided to take in a movie.  And all the while, three-quarters of a whole cheesecake will slowly rot because I'm watching my weight, my parents don't have the appetite, and my Grandmother just decided she didn't like it.

I hate seeing this My Fucking Father's way, but it's inescapable -- he's right on this one.  So, after Grandmother retires to her bedroom at 11 in the morning, I'm taking a fucking bag, throwing the cheesecake in there, throwing the angel food cake in there (she always buys angel food, but I don't ever eat it, because it's like eating one of the scouring pads she leaves on the kitchen sink), throwing one of the seventy-million bags of fucking Doritos she bought in there (what so goddamn many -- seriously, why?), drive off under cover of the day, and giving it to a food shelter on my way to the U.  Get that shit out of our house, and hopefully give it to someone who'd actually appreciate it.

Goddamn, so much fucking food.  What.  A.  Waste.

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