Good Enough to Eat by Stacey Ballis Read Free Book Online Page A

salty onion rings. I eat standing at the kitchen counter, barely pausing between bites. In less than fifteen minutes there are only crumbs left. This is always the point when I sort of wake up, when the self-loathing kicks in. The anticipation of the food, gloriously bad for me, high in fat, calories, sodium, and guilt. The first bite the only one that fully registers.
    If picking up the phone to call for food is the easiest call to make, the next one is the hardest.
    “Hello?”
    “Carey. It’s Melanie.”
    “Eleven thirty your time, so are we attempting to prevent the binge or are we seeking absolution for the binge?” There is no accusation in this, just a genuine interest in my status.
    “Bless me, sister, for I have sinned. I have had wanton congress with a Philadelphia cheesesteak and a bushel of onion rings.”
    “Wow, Philly’s Best binge. That is serious. What happened?” Carey knows all my binges. She knows that if I have PMS I turn to chocolate and if I’m horny I turn to carbs. She knows that if I’m lonely for family or friendships I bake, and that if I’m stressed about the business I make rice pudding or crème caramel. And she knows that if the whole world explodes, I turn to the one place that not only delivers till midnight, but takes me back to my undergrad days at UPenn, when I gained the freshman forty while making straight A’s and sleeping with an endless series of slightly malnourished geeky grad students.
    “Just found out that my condo is doing a special assessment of fifteen thousand dollars, due in three little weeks, to cover some necessary building repairs. This after I got home from the store, where I had to tell Ashley, the extern, that I couldn’t give her much of a recommendation, based on her performance, which made her cry. For three hours. Sniffling and wheezing all over the kitchen till I finally just sent her home. All I wanted was a hot bath, a glass of wine, a decent meal, and some Without a Trace reruns on TiVo. And instead there is a note taped to my door telling me that I’m about to be even more completely broke than I currently am, and before I knew it . . .”
    “Cheesesteak and onion rings,” she says.
    “And garlic bread,” I admit.
    “And how did it feel? Eating all that?”
    “I didn’t feel much of anything. I mean, it tasted amazing for a couple of bites, and then blind mechanics until it was just gone.”
    “And now?”
    “And now I am overstuffed, bloating, retaining water as we speak, and relieved to be living alone, because not only was no one here to witness a truly disgusting spectacle, but the attack of toxic Philly farts that is going to hit in about fifteen minutes is going to make even me wish I didn’t live with me.”
    Carey laughs. And I laugh at the enormity of my own ridiculousness.
    “Honey, I can’t speak to how your colon is going to react to what you ate, but how long do we have to work on you forgiving yourself when you have a difficult meal?”
    “I know, I know. I should have put it on my good china and lit a candle and savored every mouthful, stopped when I started to feel full, and then moved the hell on. Damn you, Philly’s Best!”
    “See, you know what you should do. Food isn’t the enemy, Mel. Philly’s Best isn’t the enemy. There is no such thing as a bad food, just an inappropriate amount of food. There is nothing you can’t eat, if you eat it in moderation. And you know that better than anyone in the world. You know you can always call me when you want to talk, but don’t feel like you have to call me to confess your sins, because there is no sin in eating. Ever. And the more you fill your life with primary food, the more love and laughter and good work you have, the less you will need the other food. But when life throws you a curve, like it clearly did today, and you don’t have time or energy to go to a museum or watch your favorite movie, or go on a date, then eat what you want, just eat it purposefully