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A Writer Foodaholic
By S.D. Craig
Published January 2002

I'm a foodaholic.  I am announcing this in front of all of you today.  Do I have to chant it?  Repeat it ten times?

I am a foodaholic.
I am a foodaholic.
I am a foodaholic.
I am a foodaholic.
I am a foodaholic.

Okay, five is enough, isn't it?  Don't make me feel too guilty.  You must have a passion for something

One of my passions is not cooking, but eating what someone else cooks.  I love to go out to eat.  This might stem from years of never being able to afford to do so until recently.  Now that I can, it's wonderful.  The downside, of course, is the tremendous willpower it takes to be good while eating out.  Sniffle

I don't drink much alcohol at all and I do talk a lot.  I'm not an insane coffee drinker, though I admit since becoming a computer nut, I've drunk more than my share.  Yes, I'm a regular at Starbucks (God help me, that new Caramel Frapawhatever thang is to die for) and Cafe Espresso in Borders.  I snicker at Barnes and Noble when they do not have a coffee place for moi.

Menus don't always cater to us cowards and dressing on the side is still an ask-for thing.  Most places are now a lot more health-conscious than ten years ago, but they have a ways to go.

I wonder if we'll ever see the little placards at our tables showing the scrumptious vegetable soup that's homemade, or the Jell-O?  No sir.  We see the Brownie Cake Fudge A La Mode Double Whopper.  Oh Lordie.

Life has always centered around the dining table, and when meeting friends, later in life, you go out to eat, meet at a bar and have a drink or two, or sip coffee and have pie.  Right?  How do we get away from this?

"Hey Julie, instead, today, could we gossip over twenty laps in the city pool?"

Ha!  Julie would look at me as if I'd swallowed poison.

See what I mean?  It's a standard that is hard to break.  For now, I'll keep asking for dressing on the side, hold the sour cream, little, light, or no mayo, and then try to recall why I was eating out in the first place.

Oh, yes.  That dessert placard, wasn't it?  If it's not good enough in a paper view format; the finer restaurants will roll around the plastic desserts for your avid perusal.  How do they make them look so tasty?  I've never known myself to drool over inanimate objects before (okay, that yellow '69 Roadrunner in high school was different).  Don't you just want to reach down, touch one, and say in your loudest whining voice, "Why, mercy me, that's plastic chocolate cheesecake  -- how rude!" and pay that skinny little waitress back?  How dare she parade this stuff in front of my chubby cheeks and expanding waistline.

I am thinking to myself, "Baby, just remember, someday, you, too, will be my age."

Maybe I'll take up waitressing in my golden years.  They say revenge is sweet, and you know how I so love sweets.

About the writer: SD Craig is a freelance writer and editor of LovingYourCurves.com and was given the nickname "Chatterbox" by fellow writers. At age fifty, Craigs Southern flair and sense of humor give her plenty to write about with a rapier wit and a wacky outlook. Her articles on body image (her biggest passion), marriage/divorce and relationships, family, friends, career issues, computers, the Internet, horses, baseball, movie reviews and writing tips remind one of Erma Bombeck or Dave Barry. A freelance writer who once juggled five columns then got real, Craig welcomes your e-mails and feedback on her articles. Drop her a hello at sdcraig922@yahoo.com or stop by www.lovingyourcurves.com.

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