My Wizard of Oz Song

You know how it goes.  "If I Only Had..." whatever.  a brain, a heart, the nerve.

Everybody has their own version of the song.  Could be "if I only had some cash, "if I only had a car," "if I only had a filter between my brain and my mouth..."

I think I have two.

My first is "If I Only Could Get Laid."  One of the cornerstones of my comedy.  Actually performed this song once in my act.  Dunno if my female relatives are gonna be reading this blog or not, so I'll hold off on posting the lyrics for now.  But the lyrics do exist.  They have for, like, five years.  Prolonged virginity does strange things to your head(s).

My second one is probably, "If I Only Had No Taste Buds."

I'm an incredibly picky eater.  Like, horribly picky.

I like very very few vegetables.  Fruits I only like in smoothie and Pop Tart form.  That eliminates a good portion of the food groups right there.

It's a texture thing.  The flavor doesn't bother me, but the texture grosses me out.  The consistency just doesn't sit well with me.  A mouthful of banana is enough to send me into a gagging fit.

I've read somewhere that having problems with the texture of certain foods is actually a sign of OCD, which I firmly do believe I have.  To other people, though, it makes me look like an annoying, picky person.  I hate it.

So maybe my second song oughta be called "If I Only Could Enjoy the Texture of Fruits and Vegetables."  But that sounds like something Fall Out Boy would have written.

I get so self-conscious that I try not to eat in front of other people.  Comes from countless dumbasses making remarks about my meal choices...while theirs aren't so great, themselves.  Then comes the unsolicited diet advice.  Yes, I am trying to lose weight.  No, I do not wanna hear how your third cousin lost five pounds eating nothing but spinach and peaches for eight weeks.  Eat your Big Mac that you ordered with extra mayo and shut the fuck up.  When I want advice I'll ask for it.

Sorry.  Whenever it comes to the subject of food I get riled up.

Even had someone tell me that I deserved to be fat because I treated myself to a chicken tenders dinner before a performance.  What sounds like a one-off comment to you is something us fatties hear over and over every day...both from other people and in our own heads.

So next time you see someone eat, no matter what you think of their choice, zip it.

Okay.  Gotta take out the trash and go to bed.  Tomorrow's gonna be my second workout of the week.  I'm aiming for three a week.  Good night.

Later.

-Justin