I don’t tend to eat a lot. For a while I assumed that this was because I was relatively skinny and don’t tend to expend a great deal of energy in a given day. It seemed unnecessary to take in too much more energy since I didn’t seem to have the room or need for it. However, it was recently explained to me that this was not what was actually going on, rather that I “eat to live” as opposed to this person who claimed to “live to eat.”
At first my response was “How witty! She inverted the sentence and it. Ah, the wit of it!”
At second I started thinking, “Well that’s a bummer for me that I was cursed with this fate. After all, it hadn’t been easy. Despite all of the advances of the feminist movement it still feels mighty awkward when your girlfriend polishes off the steak and fries that you couldn’t. OK, well, yeah, if I had a girlfriend I bet that would feel awkward.”
At third I was thinking, “Alright, on a fly ball you’ve got to tag up. The infield isn’t in so if it’s hit on the ground take off for home. Don’t take too big of a lead though, the pitcher’s looking over.”
Finally, it occurred to me that I wasn’t at a disadvantage, but rather those who “lived to eat.” I mean, what’s they’re life like when they’re full? I can just see the suicide hotline operator: “Yes, Mrs. Jenkins, we were expecting your call. Well, it’s Thanksgiving evening. You’ve stuffed yourself haven’t you? Well, I don’t care what you say; the world still goes on Mrs. Jenkins. I promise that if you just calm down and go to sleep your appetite will be back in the morning. Yeah, well I guess we all envy the Cookie Monster but this isn’t about him. Well, if it comes to that don’t you think it would make more sense to just make yourself throw up. Yes, well it’s my job to think logically at times like this. Yup. Well, alright Mrs. Jenkins. You too. Ok. Alrighty. Uh huh. Okey dokes. Bye now. Yeah. Ok. Yup. Alright, goodbye Mrs. Jenkins. Bye now. Buh bye.”
Thus proves my theory that suicide hotline conversations must end really awkwardly.
Q.E.D.