A Poor Nutritional “Model”

Last month I learned through a friend (Thank you, Beth Steinberg!) about a company called, simply, “Good.”
The group’s mission is, “In a world where things too often don’t work, GOOD seeks a path that does. We are people, businesses … organizations, policymakers, students, teachers…. All united in one simple idea, each elevated by being connected. Let’s do what works and never default to what doesn’t.”
The group has a website (www.good.is) on which, among other things, they host challenges. Last month’s challenge was to connect with people. I didn’t fare so well with that one…
This month’s challenge, for which I’ve signed up, is to “get healthy.” I hope to do better with it for more reasons that one. It’s not like I’m unhealthy, but every now and then I could use a nudge – or a shove – in the right direction.
When it comes to getting healthy, I regularly encounter a BIG roadblock. It’s so obvious it’s almost laughable.
Here it is: I love to eat. Like I said, totally obvious.
Thing is, it’s actually a little more complicated than that….
Sometimes my stomach rules my brain to the point where I seriously lack discretion in picking “rations.”
One especially memorable – and very near dangerous – case of “food faux-pas” occurred during my senior year of college when I lived with a theatre major.
I came home from class one day to find a can on the stove filled with amber blocks that looked very much like dried papaya.
“Canned, dried papaya. How odd,” I thought, even as my hand reached for a piece.
Before I removed one of those scrumptious morsels, however, my sense of propriety kicked in. This was not food I had purchased, therefore it was not mine to take. I’d wait ‘til Kate got home and ask her if I could have some before chowing down.

It kinda looked like this...

So that’s what I did and a good thing, too.
When Kate got home, I told her I felt bad because I’d almost eaten her dried papaya and would it be okay if I had some now? She gave me a blank look.
“Y’know? Your dried papaya? On the stove? In the can?” I said.
“Daphne!” she shouted, scaring me something fierce.
Oh my God! What had I done!
Next thing I knew, Kate was erupting in laughter.
“That’s not papaya,” she said, between guffaws. “It’s modeling wax!”


Written for The Writers’ Post weekly blog hop #16. Theme: “Road Blocks”