The Girl Who Ate Everything

[pokes upper arm]

...Not so bad that it would score the cover of "Atrophy: The Quarterly of Terribly Out of Shape Humans Who Must Be Mocked" but still flabby and lacking in the department of "any sign of muscular development, no matter how miniscule".

Around midnight/1 AM (times blur together when it's that late, probably from the gradual decline in brain cell activity), I ate a persimmon, despite that I had brushed my teeth four hours earlier, a signal to myself (and my stomach, if it listens) that "Robyn is done eating for the day. Yes, yes, she is. Robyn is talking to herself in the third person. Yes, she's lost it." After that persimmon, I went back for another, making sure to pause my Gilmore Girls DVD (the complete fourth season!) as to not miss any of the so-witty-I-want-to-kill-myself bater of Stars Hollow. I waited, knowing that after a while, my stomach adjusts to the presence of food sloshing around, mingling with the acids, laughing, playing beach volleyball, etc. And then, I went back for another, pausing my DVD again because technology lets you do that, although probably not because the person who invented the "pause" function thought the viewer was sprinting to the kitchen to eat persimmons and tax her digestive system at an inopportune time.

But ye know, fruit. It's healthy; you're supposed to eat it. You're probably not supposed to eat it at midnight, but I guess eating a piece of bread or downing a bottle of Vodka would've been worse. I'm sure my mum would say something like that in Chinese medicine, midnight is when your digestive system must rest. Or else you'll get cancer. At 3 AM, the liver takes a nap; disturbing its slumber will result in death by a dragon bite. At 5 AM, the pancreas bangs the ceiling with a broomstick because that's when the upstairs neighbors (eh, I dunno which organ that is) wants to party and...I dunno what I'm talking about. I didn't listen to my mum very closely.

So I ate some fruit. If that were all I had eaten all day, that'd be fine. But. I welcomed 2006 into my calorie-laden world by waking up around noon, eating too much lunch, going back to sleep, bolting out of bed at the horrification that I had just slept for a few hours in the middle of the afternoon, thinking about going out and breathing that thing called "fresh Earth fumes" but realizing if I did, the end result would probably be me bartering cash for baked goods, staying inside, eating dinner, watching Yakitate to enforce the fact that Japan is insane, eating bread, watching Gilmore Girls while making Poofies and getting fuzz all over myself, eating those persimmons at some point, thinking about writing a blog entry, not writing the blog entry but instead doing "research" at Menupages and Chowhound for a lunch date that I will be partaking in in less than 12 hours, meandering on the World Wide Web (of procrastination), and then deciding that indeed, I will fill you in on this wonderous start to the new year in all its wonderous wonderousness.

If you didn't read that whole paragraph, I don't blame you. Summation: the day was rather unproductive, with little to negative physical activity that a sloth would laugh at, but plenty of curry-scented burping during the night after making curry for dinner, which I plopped over not-quite-cooked rice because the bag of rice lies when it says to use this amount of water for this amount of dry rice and cook for this amount of time (shorten the time, increase the water, and BOOM: rice explosion). I've made the rice at least four times before, so it's not really the bag's fault. ...

There's a comically tiny wedge of bread left from that loaf I pictured yesterday and one scone left who's fate shall be sealed sometime tomorrow. Or today rather, since it's past midnight.

I'm gonna go outside today and smell the Earth's fumes, which in NYC tends to resemble automobiles, garbage, and urine.