The Glutton

It started with candy corn on Hallows eve when I was ten, as dad escorted us from house to house on that windy night. Sadistic pleasure was mine, as I bit the tiny white tips from each piece and threw the rest away, while marching to the next house. Such destructive pleasure changed the way I ate from that night forward. No longer did I eat with polite accord or cater to normal desire. Food was heretofore decimated by fork and knife, cut to pieces and consumed with vengeance by anger and growing desire for more. Formative years turned into teen angst that only increased the distance between myself and the world, with uncontrolled craving and binge. Everywhere I now look, I see food. Food on magazine covers, in commercials on TV, even a food network Supporting my lifestyle of decadence and gourmandian appreciation of sauces and desserts. I understand your envy, acknowledge your disappointment of failure, while I excel and try not to flaunt my excitement. Just because my weight exceeds what my scale measures, doesn't mean I have to modify the way I live. No. Life only goes around once, and for me, it's a paragon of pleasure, at least four times each day. But every year at Halloween, I support the neighborhood and give kids candy corn minus the tiny white tips.