I hate eat-all-you-cans, mainly because the prospect of having bottomless eats can be daunting for my plans to lose weight. Especially if I’m on the losing end of the weight-loss war and would like to win a small battle every now and then. So I try to avoid occasions that entail eating lots, making up excuses about saving an obscure country in Africa from the machinations of a tyrant or something like that. Whatever.
But it was my grandfather’s birthday last Sunday, and despite my protestations, I had to show up and wage another battle of wills against the buffet table.
So after making niceties with my relatives, I grab a plate and head off to the buffet table. The buffet table stares at me menacingly, and taunts me with cries of “You will never be able to resist my charms, you weak human glutton!”
I helplessly hold my plate tightly in my hand as my eyes dart nervously through the table of gastronomic delights. Roast suckling pig. Lengua. Roast beef. It was a heart attack waiting to happen. So I started to move a step away from the table when I bump into this old lady who was waiting for me to pick something, anything, so the line would move already and she could eat.
“Move, you fat piece of lard! Move!”
So I apprehensively move in, and I lost it. I find myself filling my plate with all that oily, greasy thinggummy called… food. I couldn’t help it. I just dump in one piece of roast beef one moment, and I find my plate filled to the brim the next. I stared at my plate, thinking, “don’t eat too much don’t eat too much don’t eat too– AH FUCK IT THIS IS FOOD!”
Five similarly-filled plates later, I realized I lost the battle as my empty plate taunts me again: “Weakling glutton, see what you just did there? You were not able to resist my oily, greasy charms! Evil laughter coupled with the finger pyramid of evil contemplation! Bwahahahahaha!”
As the waiter picks up my plate, he gives me an apologetic look and says “I’m so sorry about the plates. They always tend to do that. They can be jerks sometimes.”
I realized I have to stop taking those weird pills that hermit gave me the other day as the waiter walks away carrying my plate, which was begging to be brought back to the table to insult me more. Dejected, I walk away from the restaurant, hoping a smoke would clear my mind, when I realized I don’t smoke.
I went home, expecting to get a long night’s sleep. But the food got the better of me. I mean, I spent the entire night in–
Fig. 1: How I spent the night
Goodbye, dignity. I’ll miss you.
So how do you guys deal with buffets? Just humor me. Tell me any good story of how you guys deal with buffets, because I need a distraction because–
I have to go. Bai.
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