I want this to be the last time I talk about food and ex beaus with y’all. I really do but I was browsing my pantry this morning and realized I’ve got some early spring cleaning to do. Just so happens I’m loaded up with a buncha canned goods I wouldn’t have normally had on my shopping list but on account of me dating Now Ex Beau over the summer, I accumulated some things that’s been a detriment to my health.
And yes, it’s Now Ex Beau’s fault I’m having to watch everything I eat. I was doing real fine before he came along cooking all that food I devoured like a goddamn piranha. He was always trying to say how better he was at cooking than me and my son, Mr Boy, who’s a chef. Certified, that is. Unlike him, who was a self-proclaimed “gourmet chef.”
I would tell Now Ex Beau that he cooked with too many processed foods and being the arrogant kinda folk he was, he cocked up some story and ’cause the food was good, which I give him full credit, I let down my guard and ate everything he cooked when he was in town. I was even eating at buffets and shit. Like, I don’t consider myself to be high maintenance or nothing but I don’t do buffets. I don’t like everybody having opportunities to breathe over shit I might wanna eat. Besides, I’m only good for one plate. After that, and I’m gonna be honest, I wanna steal what I don’t eat at the restaurant. A couple of times, I did. Yeah, I know it’s tacky but who ain’t had a moment or two of them?
Anyhow, I was at the market yesterday. Got pulled over by the po-po and everything, trying to get there. I didn’t get a ticket ’cause I got a nice and even smile and well, if you don’t work what you got, who will?
Well, I got to the market and loaded up with fresh shit and realized how much better I’ve been feeling. I really do have a testimony for y’all, as they say in baptist circles and whatnot but I ain’t ready to share. So, back to my little story.
I’m browsing the pantry and all the canned shit I bought when I was with Now Ex Beau over the summer, I see I need to get rid of. Do I pass it along to a shelter or dump it? ‘Cause I’m gonna tell you, I straight up and down believe that man was trying to kill me. He declined my health, folks. I don’t know what purpose he had in doing that, being he wasn’t on any of my insurance policies. I suspect he just wanted to see me move toward a slow death and have me go to this and that doctor that he’d not be here to escort me to. He’d just move on to somebody else and I suspect, try to kill them too.
As for him being a better cook than Mr Boy, honey please. Mr Boy even does his research over the internet to see what’s conducive to my health. If I say, like I did a little while ago, “Mr Boy, cook my dinner for tonight,” I’m confident the food will be good and healthy for me. I don’t know who’s gonna be able to come in behind Mr Boy and top that ’cause New Beau will require some serious culinary skills. As for me, it ain’t hard to cook better than me. I won’t even embellish what I can do in no kitchen. Not only that, with men wanting to be equal to women with giving birth, and controlling contraceptives and all, cooking the way I need him to go about it is very necessary. Ain’t nothing high maintenance about that, is it?