I love food. I’m not even a little ashamed to say it. If it’s a choice between food and sex, I’m probably going to choose food. (Don’t get excited. This post is about food. I’ll cover sex another time.) And yes, I know there are a lot of you out there saying, “Maybe you’ve never had good sex.” To which I say, “Maybe you’ve never had good food.”
My relationship with food hasn’t always been a good one. In fact, I don’t think it’s ever been a good one. As a kid, I was an emotional eater. Eating made me feel better whenever I was being treated poorly by my parents. Since this was a common thing, so was eating.
I was never obese, but I was always heavier than I should have been. That didn’t change until college, and that’s largely because I was on what you’d call a mostly liquid diet. (I’ll let you guess what liquids I’m talking about.)
After my successful experiment to turn myself into a meta, my food requirements increased dramatically. All that energy I was blasting had to come from somewhere. My body was able to convert food to energy much more thoroughly than for a normal person.
I’ve gotten a lot of resentful looks from people in restaurants. They see me in great shape, but eating lasagna, garlic bread, and tiramisu, and probably hate me. I can’t blame them. As a teen, I’d have hated me, too.
But having to consume ludicrous quantities of calories every day took an awful lot of enjoyment away from eating. I found myself moving away from quality foods and focusing primarily on quantity.
This need for more calories led me to do two things. The first was to create an extremely calorie-dense food that I could carry on me when I knew I’d be expending lots of energy. It’s like an energy bar on steroids, with the consistency of library paste. This actually worked out well, since I sold the formula for a bunch of money and residuals.
The second was to tweak my DNA (again; I’ve done it a few times) with the intention of making my body even more efficient in extracting energy and storing it, all in order to be able to eat less. This… didn’t work out so well.
Here’s an indication of my love of food. Recently, I started an Instagram page. My very first photo upload? A sandwich. My second was some fan art and the third was a latte. (I love coffee, too.) If I actually enjoyed taking photos, you’d see a lot more of those.
So you’re wondering what the ultimate point of this blog is. Well… there isn’t one. Just that I love food. Yeah.
I love food.