Once upon a time, there was a very hungry post-menopausal woman.
She drank two cups of coffee, but she was still hungry.
Then she ate a two-egg-white omelet with avocado and salsa, but she was still hungry.
So she ate a big piece of wheat toast with organic clover honey on it, but she was still hungry.
So she squeezed herself a large glass of orange juice. And put some EmergenC in it because she still kinda had a sore throat and also because EmergenC can sometimes dull her appetite, but this time it didn't work and she was still hungry.
So she ate another piece of toast, but just the heel of the bread because, you know, that doesn't count.
So then she thought she'd try some "scared straight" motivation and she went to the bedroom to try on a pair of jeans that she knew would be too tight, and they were, they were so fucking tight she had to lie down on the floor just to get them over her knees. And while she was on the floor, she noticed a bag of pistachio nuts under her bed so she did a few calorie-burning arm lunges and after six tries, she got the bag. But it was empty, so she was still hungry.
So she went into the bathroom and cut her own bangs, which can shave a few ounces off one's weight and that justified her being able to eat a few handfuls of Pirate Booty, but she was still hungry.
So she thought about the fact that maybe she wasn't really hungry as much as she was avoiding work, and perhaps feeling down because everyone in the fucking universe is more successful than she is and maybe she should be more of a Tiger and less of a, I don't know, Sloth, lolling about, spending days on end thinking up clever little bon mot comments for her Facebook friends' statuses when she could be saving the world or recycling. But all that thinking gave her a stress headache and, remembering that caffeine helps relieve headaches, she hit the dark chocolate Dove Bliss bars in the freezer, just for medicinal purposes, not for enjoyment, but her mouth didn't know the difference and suddenly, she was still hungry again.
So she went back to bed and pulled her white hypoallergenic down comforter tightly around her and, snug as a Caterpillar in a cocoon, she took a nap.
She dreamed that she emerged from her bed thirty-five pounds lighter and without that damn kinky, pubic hair transplant she's had on her head since perimenopause. Also, without eighteen new messages on her voice mail. And without the sharp pain in her right molar every time she bites down on a carrot.
When she woke up, she realized it was all a dream. And her house was still dirty. And there was a funky smell coming from the kitchen. And The New Yorker had rejected her essay. And Claire still had, like, a hundred more Facebook fans than she did. And Jennifer Hudson was on her TV, singing that fucking song about a new day, a new dawn, feeling good, and I swear, what the very hungry post-menopausal woman wouldn't give to get Jennifer and Valerie Bertinelli and Jared in a room together and just bitch slap the fuck outta them.
Oh, and the washing machine overflowed onto the den carpet.
Now the woman wasn't hungry anymore; she was just really bummed out.
So she went to the fridge and she ate the whole container of leftover Japanese noodles from The Noodle Company, and she felt better.
Until she realized that the noodles were, like, three weeks old and that was probably the funky smell.
And then she barfed. And then she barfed some more.
The next day, the post menopausal woman weighed herself and - thanks to all the barfing - she lost a quarter of a pound!
And she was so happy.
HAAAAAA! Oh my GOD. Best story ever.
Posted by: Jennifer Grappone | 01/28/2011 at 02:27 PM
Ann,
No one writes with a truer voice to all of our inner demons than you. No one!
John
Posted by: John Moss | 01/28/2011 at 02:29 PM
I can just visualize all of this. Great writing. You are soooooooooo funny. Your stories make my day.
Posted by: Madgew | 01/28/2011 at 03:35 PM
There. Now Claire only has 99 more fans than she does.
Posted by: Sarah | 01/28/2011 at 03:37 PM
I'd like to see that one illustrated. By Eric Carle, with those paper cut-outs. Seriously. I would.
Posted by: Claire | 01/28/2011 at 03:38 PM
I love a good story with a moral..this one must be..be true to your hunger..and you're dreams will come true. Snaps for losing that weight girl.
Posted by: Dawn Davenport | 01/28/2011 at 04:09 PM
I would push the 'like' button, but my fingers are too messy with all the guacamole on them, because I ate the whole bag of chips but still had some dip left and didn't want it to go to waste; and my other hand is greasy from all the cookie dough that got left in the mixing bowl from the cookies I was baking and I couldn't let all that butter clog up my drain.
Posted by: Mary Ann | 01/28/2011 at 04:44 PM
Indeed, we hate Jennifer and Valerie and Jared. And uh uh, we are not the least bit jealous.
Posted by: Barbara | 01/28/2011 at 06:41 PM
Ann - I am typing this with chicken grease on my hand - because yeah I suck and the kids don't like my cooking so they get Albertsons chilcken legs - I only buy the legs 0 thats all they will eat - So therefore that is what I am eating and reading your posts. I love your posts and they are soooo true to my world. I keep hoping that I wake up and the last 20 years didn't really happen and that I'm leaving in FLorida wit my very rich husband but No I wake up to my boys asking what is for breakfast. I keep telling them cereal but they don't want that and don't eat and the next thing I know they are trying to kill each other so I make a real breakfast do landry get them dressed and out the door then go to work and wonder if this is really Gods punnishment to me for not helping my mom out - Anyhow, sorry for the ramble ( it had to go somewhere). I hope that Robin had managed to get out of the basement and things are looking better - . Hope you have a good weekend - O have to go and stop THEM from killing each other - I Just don't have the enegery to clean up the mess if they do each other in - you have to love 11 AND 14 YEAR OLD BOYS.
Posted by: Sue Raffetto | 01/28/2011 at 08:42 PM
Come on, any day you don't feel like eating about 80% of the time is a day wasted, really. But just think of all the calories you used up typing all those words. I hear it's about 200 calories PER WORD. You'll be supermodel skinny by now.
Posted by: Vegetable Assassin | 01/29/2011 at 03:31 PM
Eric Carle, eat your heart out! Oh wait. How many calories does a heart have??
Posted by: Amy | 01/31/2011 at 03:24 PM
Hi Ann,
Oh lovely lady that I ran into again in the Safeway liquor (I mean deli) aisle. We can all totally relate to your pain. I was actually trying to secretly buy a bottle of wine for myself because every muscle in by body was sore from trying to do those rediculous P90X DVD's. In my mind I am 29, but my 50 something peri-menopausal body knows better! So good to see you again...we love you! Hang in there!
Posted by: doris | 02/14/2011 at 02:01 PM
Lol...what a story here...It made me laugh out loud while reading this..
Posted by: Shaving Sets | 07/31/2011 at 10:39 AM
Angelidakis describes Athens as a split city, divided between a glorious past made of severe proportion and strict rules and a present peppered with architecture that is wild, added-in, incomplete, interrupted and non-designed, as is so obviously visible in its crowded streets.
Posted by: essay writing | 09/23/2011 at 05:12 AM
Make sure she cleans the den carpet before guests arrive.
Posted by: Nina | 11/01/2016 at 07:04 PM