Permanent Smile
photoThe other day, I went to Philly to see my great aunt on the eve of her 92nd birthday. 92 years old, I can’t even imagine what that’s like. Everything seems to be okay with Aunt Bea and her wit is still sharper than most people I know. Her health, too, is in good form, so at least I have solid genes backing up my cause.
Actually, the only ailment she really suffers from is chronic complaint. She’s very good at complaining and has taken years, decades even, to master the form. Her timing is impeccable, her acuity spot-on. For instance, she took me out to eat in the diner in her building, after insisting that the place is not fit for humans. When the waitress asked for my order, I said I would like an omelet.
“Why would you get an omelet here,” my Aunt Bea chimed in, “do you want to eat a brick for breakfast? They don’t cook omelets here like your grandmothers; they’re not light and fluffy. We know how to cook in my family, but they don’t know how to cook here.”
Yet I insisted, partly because when you’re in the mood for an omelet, nothing else will do, but mostly because I felt bad for the waitress, who tried to defend the restaurant’s omelets against my great aunt’s tirade.
When my omelet arrived, Aunt Bea admitted that it didn’t look so bad. I informed her that it’s because I ordered it with egg whites.
“What are you messing around with egg whites for? You’re 25 years old, you don’t even know what cholesterol is, and I know a million girls who’d kill for your figure. People ask me how I got to be 92 years old and I tell them, it’s because I eat whatever the hell I want!”
So there you have it: if you want to live to be 92 years old, just eat whatever the hell you want.
Actually, the only ailment she really suffers from is chronic complaint. She’s very good at complaining and has taken years, decades even, to master the form. Her timing is impeccable, her acuity spot-on. For instance, she took me out to eat in the diner in her building, after insisting that the place is not fit for humans. When the waitress asked for my order, I said I would like an omelet.
“Why would you get an omelet here,” my Aunt Bea chimed in, “do you want to eat a brick for breakfast? They don’t cook omelets here like your grandmothers; they’re not light and fluffy. We know how to cook in my family, but they don’t know how to cook here.”
Yet I insisted, partly because when you’re in the mood for an omelet, nothing else will do, but mostly because I felt bad for the waitress, who tried to defend the restaurant’s omelets against my great aunt’s tirade.
When my omelet arrived, Aunt Bea admitted that it didn’t look so bad. I informed her that it’s because I ordered it with egg whites.
“What are you messing around with egg whites for? You’re 25 years old, you don’t even know what cholesterol is, and I know a million girls who’d kill for your figure. People ask me how I got to be 92 years old and I tell them, it’s because I eat whatever the hell I want!”
So there you have it: if you want to live to be 92 years old, just eat whatever the hell you want.
posted by Toby Shuster at 6:20 PM
1 Comments:
I can't complain, but sometimes I still do.
~Joe Walsh
Now, I'm just hungry. Mmm, bacon. Wait: Mmm, egg whites.
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