If you lined up everyone who has ever known me & asked them what my favorite food is (even
people who have only known me for 3.5 minutes), they would yell without reservation SPAGHETTI!
And I would be proud of them, for they would be correct.
Friends, there is something seriously wrong with me. I have NEVER met a plate of spaghetti that I didn’t
like. When people ask me “if you had 24 hours to live what would you do”. The first second thing that comes
to my mind (after the obvious “spend time with family” answer) is eat spaghetti. Copious amounts.
Until I actually just die from the spaghetti itself.
Which reminds me of the time I nearly did.
I have only ever told one person this story. I swore to myself that I would NEVER tell a soul…
but alas, I must. For my readers to truly know me, they must know all of me. The good & the bad.
Well this, this, this is the sick.
One time, a year or so ago I was watching the bachelorette (the only show I ever watch).
I was alone (this is how all tragic self destructing tales start) for the evening & made a family sized pot
of spaghetti to “curl up with”.
If you are already disgusted with me, I understand. I am as well.
Disgusted with myself that is.
The bachelorette is 2 hours long. I ate for the 2 hours. I don’t think I took much of a break.
Other then to run my hands firmly over my tummy in an attempt to push the food down on its way…
so that I could eat more of course.
(is it wrong that a little sick part of me is proud & giggling right now??)
I ate the whole pot.
Ok sure you say, EVERYONE has gorged before.
Let me tell you what happened. The show ended & I knew that I was stuffed.
That I had overdone it to the extreme.
I went to get up & go to bed to sleep off my carb coma, only to find that I could not
I REPEAT could NOT, get up.
I ate so much spaghetti that I could not get off the couch.
The more I tried, the more pain I was in.
Until the pain in my tummy got so bad that I honestly thought I was going to die.
I promise you, I thought my stomach was going to burst & I was going to die.
Alone in my house.
I layed there (what choice did I have??) and I prayed.
I swore that I would never (try not to) eat that much spaghetti again (at least not alone).
Needless to say, Ive survived (with no pride whatsoever apparently, based on the fact that im telling this story).
I would love to tell you (like all those people who ate something from their childhood & then they got sick & never ate it again)
that I gave up spaghetti right there & then. But I haven’t. I wouldn’t me without it. I would be a blonde girl,
lost in the world bumping around with no sense of up or down, wrong or right.
When I die, assuming its not from spaghetti, I would like my casket filled to the brim with spaghetti
with a big container of parm cheese on top.
Can someone promise me that they will make this happen?? Please??’
p.s. Don’t judge me. Carbs can make you feel loved. (but don’t fall for it. It’s not real love *wink*)
p.p.s If I tell you the entire pot was whole wheat does that make it seem less gross?
p.p.p.s I have never told adam until right now, when I let him read this blog post. He laughed really hard.
and then im pretty sure I saw him check out of the corner of his eye to see if my butt got bigger.
p.p.p.p.s We have about a million weddings that we are getting ready to show you, we are just working on all the blog posts!