I transferred addictions to porn...

...PUDGE PORN! So I’m sitting here in my jammies watching the Food Network.  I am a Food Network regular – usually turning in for such culinary entertainment as Iron Chef America, Food Network Challenges and any of the shows Alton Brown is on.  Other than that I try to steer clear of the 24/7 “Pudge Porn” channel.  There are some really obvious reasons it is NOT a good idea for a gastric bypass patient to watch Food Network, the least of which being trying to avoid drool stains on the remote.  But here I am watching an episode of “Throw Down with Bobby Flay” as Bobby is taking on the “Donut King”.  For every one reason there is for a bypass post-op not to watch regular programming on Food Network there are about 12 for just this particular show.  The first being the word “Donut” in the title.  That should be enough said right there.  I mean what are we not supposed to have as post-ops again?  Oh yeah, white flour, refined sugar, lots of fat and anything deep fried.  What are donuts made of?  That’s right, donuts are clouds of white floury goodness glazed in sugar until they glisten in the morning sun that spills through the window on sleepy Sunday mornings, coated in succulently sweet frosting that brings joy to the hearts of our men in blue around the good old US of A and deep fried to create that slightly crisp on the outside but melt-in-your-mouth heaven on the inside.  So basically if I had to sum up what I, as  gastric bypass patient SHOULD NOT have it would be “If you use it to make a krispy kreme I shouldn’t have it.”   That is it – if it is in a donut it is bad news for me.  But I can’t look away…I am like the 30 year old, lives in his parent’s basement, sleeps in footy pajamas, doesn’t have a real job but manages to wake up early on Saturday mornings where you will find him in his Wonder Woman PJ’s eating frosted cheerio’s and watching Sponge Bob – but at nigh****ches HBO specials with names that are sad attempts at wit and are too crude to mention here, quivering with desire but with no girlfriend / wife / money for a hooker to use up all the pent up sexual energy with.  Instead of that kind of porn I watch, lips slightly parted, eyes glazed over, speechlessly groaning as Paula Deen sprinkles peanut butter cup chunks on that creamy, fat filled, smooth as her southern accent cheesecake.  And I drool.  I drool at the recollection.  Cheeeeesscaaaakke.  And then on nights like tonight – alone in my apartment, rain falling delicately creating pools in my flower box – I snuggle in on the love seat with my water and no butter popcorn and think about putting trash bags on the windows to hide my a pudge porn habit from the neighbors so I can lick my TV in solitude.  Ah to have a donut again…or 12 donuts again…  Don’t let me fool you – I HAVE had a donut (maybe 2 in total) since my surgery almost 2 years ago.  They come in bites here and there from someone else’s donut, but I actually did buy two a couple weekends ago.  I was in a bad mood – a REALLY bad mood – listening to my “poor me” soundtrack in my head and I was like “You know what would make me happy?  Glazed donuts and a large vanilla latte would make me very happy.  So by George I have a car and $3 so I’m getting what would make me happy.”  I got in my car and drove to Kwik Trip (a gas station chain of which we have 2 in my home town, and I used to work at one but I went to the other one, where no one would know me and so they wouldn’t know I’m not supposed to have donuts like a porn seeking suburban father of three who goes to the next suburb to pick up his Penthouse) and circled the donut case a couple of times trying to look like I was admiring the fresh case next to it with fresh fruits and salads (you know, like when you go to the store to get condoms and little old ladies come by to get their blood pressure medicine you flip around and pretend to be earnestly looking for medicated foot cream****il finally mustering up the courage to pull two little tissue papers out and fast as you can say “a bakers dozen” I had my glazed donuts in the bag and I was shuffling to the currently devoid of customers checkout line.  Before my pastrie**** the counter there were 100 people in line behind me (okay, so maybe 100 is a bit much, but there were at least 3 people) listening with keen interest to how many donuts I had in the bag and judging me like they would someone talking through a port in their neck buying Marlboros.  “Leave me alone!  Stop judging me!” I wanted to shout as I handed money to the clerk who’s critical eye scrutinized me and my purchase long after the security camera followed me out the glass doors.  I stealthily slipped into my mother’s empty house (did I mention I skipped church to go on this excursion?) and once in the safety of the lazy boy I pulled out my poison and flipped on the television.  If I was going to do this I was going to do it right.  The latte was no problem because it was 2/3 coffee and 1/3 latte so there wasn’t THAT much sugar in it.  I sipped on it savoring the richness and warmth of the coffee drink.  I breathed it in deeply and swished it around in my mouth like someone would a fine wine – feeling the texture of the cream and the acidic quality of the dark roasted coffee.  With about half of my latte/coffee drink gone I looked at the foreboding plastic donut bag – “Come and get me” they whispered in soothing yet guttural tones.  All I have learned about self control and dealing with emotions in appropriate ways and only eating when it is time to eat – all of that rang in my ears so I turned away and looked back at the television. The donuts – well, they sat on the end table next to me as I flipped through the morning news and settled on a rerun of Flavor of Love’s Charm School (classy I know).  I could feel them over there.  Teasing me – calling to me – flooding my subconscious with desire.  The next thing I remember is pulling the first one out of the bag.  The crinkle of the wax paper and the stickiness of the sugary glaze on my fingers overloaded my senses as the smell of deep fried, sugar coated goodness wafted up to greet my nostrils.   I opened my mouth – the anticipation driving me wild – and when the glaze hit my tongue I was in heaven.  One bite then two and a third…and then the nausea, sweats and shaking came on in waves.  I brought the donut to my mouth again, poised to take a fourth bite, and thought to myself “Does feeling sick make me happy?  Does the thought of undoing all that I have done these past 21 months make me happy?  Then why the heck am I doing this to myself!”  So I dropped the remainder of the first donut back in the bag on top of the second and settled in to enjoy the rest of my latte until the dumping was over.   No more donuts and until a healthy cooking show comes on (with a title like "How to make no butter added popcorn taste like a cinnabon") – no more Food Network.  In the meantime I wonder what is on HBO…J

I thought you meant actual porn.  I like actual porn.  It makes me happy.

Ha!  I lured you in with the thread title.  You were hoping to hear a sordid tale of subscriptions to raunchy websites and late nights glued to XXX movies.  I hope you weren't too disappointed.  If I ever find my transfer of addiction swinging toward the adult entertainment industry I'll make sure to post about that.  And as for it making you happy - whatever floats your boat  

....Based on seeing that you have gotten three responses so far, all from guys - you can see that the sensational headline worked - you know where our minds are every 16 seconds!

WOW. I read your WHOLE post and gahhh you paint a picture really well! Its like confessions of a bypasser....Crazy! Good look on your quest to stay off the junk (food network) I watch it far too often also but its not my fault there is something cutesy about that rachel ray! ha! Bobby

I do pretty well most of the time, but occasionally there are instances like this.  I love Rachel Ray to a point - but sometimes I feel like if I hear one more "Yummo" or "Delish"  in the 30 Minute Meals show I am going to throw my EVOO (Extra Virgin Olive Oil) at the TV.  Glad you enjoyed it - thanks for your response!

Amy: First of all that was SO well written. You are an incredibly talented writer. I hope that if you haven't already, you consider a career in writing. I could definately see you working in print journalism or as a novelist. Your writing style not only told the story, but your words expressed everything so vividly without it feeling like you were trying too hard.  I have a hard time with the Food Network nowadays too. I love to cook, so I enjoy watching and learning on TV. Of course though, now - like you - I find myself tempted when I see shows like "Ace of Cakes,"  "Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives," and anyhing with Paula Dean or Ina Gardner. I find myself feeling contemptful towards those last two as it seems like they take a "the more butter the better" attitude towards every recipe they demonstrate. Is it wrong that I look at people like that now and say to myself  "that person is, or ultimatly will be, a candidate for surgery!" I don't think it is, I just feel more passionate about it then before because I know first-hand what a difference it makes to live life sans the burden of all those excess pounds that resulted from all those unnecessary indulgences in butter and rendered bacon fat. All I can do is stay away, just like it isn't wise for a recovering alcoholic to go barhopping on the weekends with his old buddies even as a designated driver, we aren't well served by tuning in to the Pudge Porn Network on a lonely saturday night even if it is "just to look at the menu." Please do post more of your literary porn, It's like Penthouse Letters for foodiies! Now that I have had a taste - I want more!

Ah Mike - you are too kind.  I am glad your liked it.  I write for my college paper (I am on the radio there too) and maybe one day I will write a book, but I won't have time for that until I'm done with my second term in office .  Really though, thanks. Paula Deen reminds me of my Me-Maw (grandma) before she died.  She was a born and raised North Carolinian and had the same butter overload philosophy when it came to cooking.  Wonder if that had anything to do with her premature death from fatty liver disease that led to liver cancer....  And I do the same thing and think they are on the road to serious health issues.  I just hope they don't eat at home the same way they eat on TV.  Though you have to love plump chefs, like Mario Batalli and Emril - there is just something fishy about a skinny chef (Jiada - the Everyday Italian lady makes me uncomfortable, as does the Semi Homemade lady because they are really skinny yet they cook all these fattening dishes, so they must do a take and then spit everything out off camera).   I will try to post more.  I'm having some complications (check the blog for details) so there are days I am not up to doing much of anything, though it does make me feel better to feel appreciated.  And while we're talking about appreciation you do a lot to make the 20's board welcoming and informational - thanks for that.  It is not unnoticed or unappreciated.

You are sooooooooo Great!!!  I loved it, the title caught my eye and I was instantly sucked in.  Great writing and GREAT STORY!!!!!