So Much Pleasure-So Little Pain

….The medical scale in the bathroom confirmed my worst fears. After one Thanksgiving Day meal, albeit stretched out over five hours, I had gained more than six pounds - and the day was still young.

  I suddenly started to cry uncontrollably. Then I slowly lowered my head… resigned to my fate… after 40 years of self-inflicted torture.

In the next few minutes, all of the curious and outlandish features of my personality - no doubt a result of my enduring bout with obesity - drew together in an empirical illusion as real as any dream or fantasy that I have ever experienced. I was transported through the gates of time, to a magical kingdom where there was no concern for how I looked, where rumor and insinuation had no place, and where I could do whatever the hell I wanted, as long as it did not hurt anyone else.

Dope-fiends, alcoholics, gamblers, and overeaters populated this supernatural domain. And there I was, in full-blown Greek regalia of princely shirt and tapered pants, as thin as a wisp, dancing the sirtaki, while eating all manner of delicacies from the luscious fingertips of waitressing nymphs.

As I watched myself dance and eat to my heart’s content, purple clouds rolled by as the sun set and rose three times. In this span, I did not rest or digest, and yet I could not put on weight. It was a miracle - as if the food did not pass from my mouth to my stomach and to my bowels. The days simply passed and there were no longer any problems to deal with - because I was in paradise!

Less than an hour later, I stood in the kitchen, one hand stroking my wife’s hair and the other gingerly picking away at three varieties of stuffing. Nan, totally aware of how agonizing the day had been for me, couldn’t understand why I seemed so happy and relieved. She had no way of knowing that the battle was finally over.

Later that evening, after the Thanksgiving guests had long since departed and everyone had gone to sleep, I was still at work on the remains of the feast. First came the stuffing and turkey, then the hardened mashed potatoes with cold gravy, baked potatoes with some freshly melted butter, jellied cranberry sauce, blueberry and pumpkin pie, followed by assorted leftover cheeses, nuts, fruits, and of course the bubbly.

As I stuffed myself to the gills, outdoing all previous bouts of such passion, I fantasized running throughout the house shouting, I did it! I did it! Look at me – I did it! But I was too busy foraging among the bones, scraps, pans, and jars - savoring the vast pleasure of that most memorable and glorious day of absolute gluttony.

At four in the morning, I stopped eating and drinking and walked up the stairs, feeling an emotional gratification that had escaped me over a lifetime of fatness. As I walked into the bathroom, I wanted to laugh loudly enough for the whole house to hear, knowing that the scale could no longer deprive me of sweet and complete victory.

Sometime later, I stopped to peek in at my three-year-old son, Billy, who was sleeping comfortably. Feeling a powerful need to share the important event, I bent over to carefully hug and kiss him. He barely stirred.

Then I went into my bedroom, quietly stood at the foot of the bed, and and looked at the figures of my slumbering wife and our six-month-old daughter, Jenny. At that very instant, I desperately wanted to wake Nan. She would have been astonished that in less than 24 hours, I had consumed more than 30 pounds of assorted food and drink - some 38,000 calories in all - and weighed exactly the same amount as I did when I had started that fateful day! In fact, I had lost about half a pound….