Terrible Decision Tuesday

This short story is lightly inspired by the essay “Barbeque Catharsis,” the opening essay in Intersex by Aaron Apps.

Church says the problem is I have a God-sized hole in my life that can only be filled by Jesus. My MLM friends say I have a donut-sized hole in my face that can only be fixed with weight loss smoothies. What I really have is Binge Eating Disorder and I’ve never met a taco I didn’t like. I’ve got covid curves. Food is therapy. Keep me on speed-dial and we can validate each others’ feelings over some cheesy carbs. I’ll be your bad influence friend. Wanna overload our systems together with a cacophony of calories, sugar, fat, hormone and energy level fluctuations, constipation, diarrhea, and bloating in the form of chile rellenos and margaritas with free chips and salsa? Unbutton your pants and get ready to rumble...from your digestive tract. It’s Taco Tuesday.

It’s 5:00 and I have a skip in my step as I leave work for El Patio. Happy Hour with the girls is nigh. I’ve been waiting all day for this. I had oatmeal for breakfast so it would stick to my ribs long enough that I wouldn’t starve, but skipped lunch so I could have more space for the binge. The key turns in my Honda Civic as I enthusiastically announce “hey Siri, take me to El Patio.” Siri already knew because my phone had already suggested a destination of Water Street for me at this hour, as it does every day on Tuesday after work. I say all the Spanglish I remember from high school out loud to a silent audience as I navigate. 

Me to myself: “Qual es la fecha de hoy?” 
Me back to myself: “Es Tuesday, amiga! Martes es la dia de papas fritas y salsa a El Patio!”
Me to myself: “Puedo ir al bano, senorita?”
Me back to myself: chuckles knowingly

I pull into the parking lot and see that I’m not the first one of my group to arrive. I can already taste the salty duet of freshly fried tortilla chips with salt and the dripping of pico de gallo down my chin. I can feel my stomach gurgling in hunger. Forgive me Father, for the sins I will be committing on my colon. I open Instagram and text my hydrotherapist to pre-schedule a colonic for tomorrow. Peristalsis activated. My intestines are ready to rally. I find my spot on the scuffed leather booth seat and high five my buddies before I dig in. Tomorrow is Hump Day and the week will be halfway over, but first...Terrible Decision Tuesday.