I wanna be fed

Don't you miss being fed? I don't mean like "open up for the airplane!" kinda being fed, but that wonderful time of life when you woke up to a fresh scrumptious breakfast, went to school with a delicious brown paper bag lunch of goodness, and came home to a heartfelt dinner of yumminess.

I know, I know, "Matt be a man", "Matt, you're old enough to feed yourself", "Matt stop staring at my breasts". Well, I CAN'T, OK? I'M HUMAN!

This foodly reverie was a result of walking past a vending machine today. Not particularly hungry, yet extremely bored, I ordered a big bunch of sugar wafers. Delicious, yes; but I thought "gee, I wish I wasn't doing this!". Cue Sadness.

I fancied a time when I had my brown paper lunch bag with "MATT :)" written on it. Sure, those lunches were usually PB&J, celery sticks and apple juice, but at least I didn't have to have self-control. Lunch might have sucked, but that's all I got and I learned to enjoy it. Now, I'm all cookie binges, chocolate benders and glasses of fresh tears with a lime.

Talking about this reminds me of one time my father got into a lot of trouble when he made me lunch. Recently divorced, dad (never a gourmand) would usually prepare me left-over Chinese food, burnt toast or a yellow post it note with "lunch" written in sharpe.

Well, one time while making me lunch for school, he ran out of juice boxes. What did he do? Pour me some water? Nope. Give me some money to buy something at school? Nope.

He packed me some Bloody Mary Mix. When I pulled it out of my lunch bag, I was called into the principal's office and my mother was immediately contacted. They didn't arrest my dad, but a nine-year-old pulling out a bottle that reads "Just Add Alcohol!" must have given the teachers a pause for thought.

I suppose then, I still indulge in my childhood packed lunches...I love ordering Chinese food, I burn toast all the time and I'm a borderline alcoholic. Wish I took after my mom a little more...