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Doughnuts, Fries, and Lies
by Bonnie B. Horton
Recently I went to see my doctor for a maintenance check-up. While I was there, the nurse handed me the results of my husband Bobby's cholesterol test from the day before. "Wow, impressive increase," I commented. "Yes," she replied, "have him follow this diet." She handed me a sheet which contained no southern-fried foods, only a choice between carrots and brussels sprouts. Nothing really good, like chocolate cake or sawmill gravy, made the list. Obviously, Bobby was not going to be happy about this as he adheres to the theory that anything eaten over a kitchen sink or not seen by anyone else is cholesterol-free, so I decided to be compassionate and go on the skimpy diet with him. I tucked the diet in my purse and headed home.
On the way, I thought maybe I would have one last really good meal before starting on the big diet, so I pulled into a local fast food drive-in where I was greeted by the tanalizing odor of grease. I ordered a burger, tater tots, and a cherry limeade. As I indulged in the grease feast, I thought that surely this meal would satisfy my need for fat for quite a while.
Unfortunately my body and my mind are not in sync. After I left the drive-in, I suddenly spotted my favorite donut shop. Struggle as I might, I could not prevent my car from turning into the parking lot. I went inside and purchased a half-dozen lemon-filled donuts. On my way home, I ate two. They were quite good and satisfied me completely. However, it suddenly occurred to me that I was carrying four donuts to someone with dangerously high cholesterol. I would certainly feel terrible if I tempted Bobby that way; so, with a sigh of silent suffering, I ate the other four donuts. I stopped at a dumpster on the edge of town and disposed of the telltale cup and napkin, as well as the incriminating do-nut sack.
Self-righteously, I handed Bobby the results of his cholesterol test and served salad for supper. I decided that this might not be so bad after all. I wasn't even hungry. Bobby didn't say anything, but I heard his stomach growl a couple of times that night.
The second day, we continued our plan of eating lightly. After a lunch of fruit salad, Bobby went back to work. At midafternoon, I weakly made my way to the kitchen and extracted a box of frozen macaroni and cheese from the refrigerator. As I impatiently waited the thirty minutes for it to cook, I kept looking out the window to be sure Bobby didn't come home early. I snatched the hot macaroni and cheese from the oven and downed it hurriedly, all the time keeping an eye out for Bobby. After I finished eating, I carefully buried the macaroni and cheese container in the bottom of the garbage can and sprayed the house with Lysol so the lingering aroma wouldn't betray me.That night as we were watching TV, I carelessly mentioned that I seemed to have burned my tongue. Bobby asked, "How can you burn your tongue on fruit salad?" "You're right," I replied. "I must have bitten my tongue. You know how that hurts."
We moved on with Bobby complaining bitterly about starving to death and me being a martyr to his diet. He assured me several times that I need not suffer along with him, but that he appreciated my devotion. I just smiled and continued marinating the two small pieces of fish that were dinner.
After dinner, Bobby had an errand to run. As soon as he pulled out of the driveway, I grabbed my keys and headed for the drive-in grease pit. There I ordered a strawberry shortcake. I sat in my car, leisurely enjoying my dessert with absolutely no guilt, only immense satisfaction.
As I ate, I gazed around the parking lot at all the vehicles. Suddenly I saw a familiar white truck parked across from me. A carhop was handing a large sack through the window. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that the driver was none other than Bobby. He glanced up at the same time and saw me. We waved feebly at each other, took our food and placed it on the serving trays outside our windows, then slowly headed for home and more carrots.
Neither of us mentioned this incident, and several days passed. Then Bobby announced he was going on a business trip. "Thank goodness," I thought. "Now I can have a decent meal." As he was leaving, I reminded him, "Remember to stay on your diet."
"I will," he answered seriously, but I thought I detected a sly glint in his eyes as he walked out the door--due to all those carrots, I suppose.
Bonnie B. Horton is an English Instructor at Delta State University in Cleveland, Mississippi. She likes to write poetry and short non-fiction about nature and real life. In both, she finds delightful irony as well as inspiring dignity. Her work has appeared in Delta Scene magazine, Tapestry literary journal and POMPA, the Mississippi Philological Association journal. She has also presented papers at the Mississippi Folklore Society, as well as other professional meetings and workshops. Contact: Bonnie.
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