Food F(r)ight!

This past weekend, I went out and I—simply put—got drunk.  Not surprisingly.  I’m 5’2’’ (on a good day) and get wasted off a glass of wine.  Not joking.  An example of my lack of tolerance: On Friday night, I went out after work with some coworkers.  I had half a glass of a frozen mojito and got wasted.  While this is probably where you think the story ends, it doesn’t.  When I drink, I become ravenous.  I eat.  I binge. 

After (nearly) finishing the 1 drink, I left with one of my coworkers to go back to her apartment and wait until another began bartending later that night.  On our way back to her apartment, I insisted on stopping at McDonald’s for an Oreo McFlurry.  Did I mention that I already had consumed a bowl of guacamole and chips?  Or that at one point, I took a fork to the guacamole and just went to town?  After polishing off the McFlurry at her apartment and raiding her cabinets for something salty, it was evident that neither one of us was going to make it to the bar.  So I left and took the bus downtown to Pierre’s apartment.  What happened next?  Well… the bus let me off on 2^nd and 14^th streets, which is pretty much NEXT to one of the best New York Pizzeria’s—Artichoke.  I mean, I might as well go, right?  I was about 15 steps away.  And from where the bus let me out, I could see that there was no line.  So, on the phone with my mom, I walked over.  While waiting for a half hour for the entire order (the stuffed artichoke with bread crumbs—yes, I am salivating as I write this—takes about 25 minutes to prepare), I polished off 1 slice of artichoke pizza and then, well… I was waiting anyway, right?... I went for a second slice.  As I was standing there eating by myself, probably covered in sauce and oil, a guy came up to me (did he work there? I was oblivious in my caloric bliss) and complimented me on my ordering and then went further to say, “I’ve never seen a girl your size polish off 2 artichoke slices”… I smiled a big toothy grin (probably with basil locked into a couple of teeth) and then took my stuffed artichoke from the counter and went to eat in peace where people wouldn’t judge or keep track of how much I eat—Pierre’s apartment!

It’s one thing to eat a couple of slices of pizza by yourself at a stand while you are drunk and quite another to go to town on a stuffed artichoke with bread crumbs when you have every intention of both eating with your hands and dipping your head back to drink the oily buttery broth at the bottom.  Yes, I have no shame.  Walking back to Pierre’s apartment holding my artichoke with care (like a diamond), I made it back to his apartment—I knew he wouldn’t be there yet and ripped open the bag and went after this artichoke like my dog goes after garbage or fresh vomit.  There are some things a partner shouldn’t see the other one doing for fear of never wanting to have sex with them ever again.  For some couples, this means not seeing each other while sitting on the toilet.  For us, it is binge eating.  The purely glutinous act of drunkenly wolfing down food with animalistic vigor is just so completely unattractive as to possibly render it a “deal breaker.  The next morning when I woke up, belching up garlic and needing water so badly I thought I would die (for both the terrible dry mouth I was having and the awful hang over), I remembered two things: 1) why I do not drink—specifically, tequila—and 2) why I should never leave someplace drunk without a friend: there will be food and I will try to eat all of it and in some cases (my brother’s birthday comes to mind)—I may even request/need someone to feed me.  

What's A Girl To Do?

Today marks the fourth day of my battle with Influenza Type B.  Also known as the flu.  But just my luck, not the normal flu (that’s Influenza type A).  I have the weird strand.  The gypsy flu.  After lying under the covers, then breaking the fever and then lying on the covers, lying with the heating pad/without, taking a shower, taking advil, 1-2-3-4 hours, taking more advil, complaining to people only to hear how bad my voice actually sounds, watching TV, watching SO MUCH TV!  Finally on day three, I couldn’t take it anymore!  Now less Pierre to keep me company, I became completely enraged:  I started cleaning my apartment—top to bottom, took a bath, cleaned the bath, watched TV, read some of my book, organized my pantry, and was never so thrilled to go to Pierre’s apartment for the night, collecting my mail on the way out the door—hellllloooo New York Magazine and the New Yorker!  It was almost the same excitement I feel over Instyle! 

Influenza Survival Kit

Now at 8:27am on day four, I came home and I need something to do.  I cannot stand another day of lying in bed idle.  So, I did something I’ve never done before—I set up shop for the day at my dining room table.  I plugged in my computer (note to self- need to buy a new laptop as soon as I have the funds), slammed down a fresh box of Puff’s Vicks with lotion tissues (these are the best!), made some coffee ( might die if I have anymore tea), stacked my New Yorker under my book (I already finished my New York Mag), and turned my TV, positioned the remote (just so), and figured… it’s time to write!  If I can’t be around people (doctor has me quarantined until they know what this is—Pierre is a total goner at this point), I will bring the people to me!

Left at home for days on end, I’ve begun to realize how much I enjoy working—which, for those of you who know me,  know that this is a HUGE comment for me to make.  Yes, I can’t stand the office gossip and politics, but working does give me a sense of a fulfilled day.  My day has specific markers: beginning of day (usually marked by a cup of coffee), middle of day (lunch and have meetings set up for the afternoon), and end (I’m exhausted, hungry, and can’t wait to go home and see Pierre).  At work, I feel a sense of accomplishment—I’m hungry for a challenge and I’m constantly raising the bar for myself.  At home (whether that be when I am sick or on the weekends), I recognize that there is very little to do—walk around, go to the gym, then what?  Shop—did I NEED that dress?  Get coffee with friends?  Is this and could this type of life be enough for me? 

It’s a constant battle I have with myself and I’m sure I am not alone.  Growing up with an amazing stay-at-home mom into a relatively affluent family, the moms that I knew did not work.  None of my aunts worked on either side of the family and if any of the women did, it was volunteer work, or very part time.  Going to college, I think something sparked for me.  I became curious.  Watching some of my peers size up potential boyfriends (and other people’s boyfriends) by how much money their family has, where he grew up, what beach club their family belongs to on the South Shore (which doesn’t this tie back to how much money their family has?), where they went to camp, and which people they know through a vast network of various social connections. While these qualities may or may not have been important to one’s 19 year-old self, I didn’t grow up in a town or in a family where these qualities had any value.  For one, I never felt that I would need to rely on a man to financially support me (I figured my parents would help if I really needed it and I would manage on whatever salary I made).  Secondly, I grew up in New Jersey, so how can I judge anyone by where they live?  Third, beach club?  Why pay for a membership when you can travel to other beaches?  Fourth, I never went to summer camp.  I had terrible separation anxiety and flipped out at even the discussion of me going to sleep away camp.  And lastly, why would I care how many people know this person?  Do I need the entourage of his past failed relationships to validate his social ranking?  Aren’t I too old to care about who is head cheerleader and who is the starting quarterback? 

This thinking opened my eyes to perhaps a new position affecting young women with the same social and educational background: “I went to a good college, did well, got a good job, met a husband who was attracted to me for all the reasons previously listed, but now that I want to have kids, do I have to stop being the person I once was?”  I have girlfriends that are in fantastic positions in engineering, marketing, banking, and law and they worked very hard to get to these points in their careers.  Yet what is the end goal?  What’s their plan?  For the longest time, I always assumed, I would marry a man who would come from an equally comfortable family and he would “get” the lifestyle I have lived.  But the irony, is that I know I don’t want a man who survives off his financial umbilical chord.  I want someone to be as ambitious (if not more) than I am.  Having had time (and arguments with Pierre) to think about this… I know I want more than anything to be a mom and to provide my children with the type of parenting that I had—but if this down time while I’m sick is any indication of a life without work… I’m not sure I’m going to be the best candidate of full time mommying.  What would I do when the child goes to school?  What would I have to talk about?  Who would I talk to?  Would I still be as interested and as curious as I am now?

Ok mom… I hear you!  I know I won’t know how I feel about any of these things until I actually get married and have children, but aren’t these the questions you have to start asking yourself now? The milestones I have at work: selling an expensive project, getting credited for good consistent performance, helping other people, etc... remind me that all those hours working on my Shakespearean Lit paper was worth it because it got me to this point.  Not to mention the sweet satisfaction I feel when I don’t have to ask before buying an amazing pair of shoes or a new dress just-because.  There is truly nothing more bra-burningly wonderful than being financially independent!  But I wonder if I will still have the same satisfaction when my child learns to stand, starts speaking, scores a goal.  But if I’m restless, will I really be the best mother I can be?

I think in the end I know I will figure out what will work best.  With out a doubt, I will have a supportive partner by my side that will help me make decisions that are good for me, our family, and each other.  But today, I am working from home and it’s not so bad… J