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“You know what the problem is? I’m too darn hungry to think. That’s why there’s never enough!”

So I bought him a mirror, and let him look.

When my daddy was young, he was strikingly handsome; something that probably has some relationship to the cause for my existence, but that’s a whole other story. Now he’s large, going on obese. And the reason is simple: there isn’t a kitchen in the world which he doesn’t like.

Together, we’ve been around the world. No matter where we went, he always found something nice in the food.

When certain curries looked predigested, he took to them like there was no tomorrow. Turns out there was, but that was the day to try deep fried cockroaches, or were they grasshoppers? Elsewhere we were fed boiled sheep trotters. The mere thought of where they’d been made me gag. So did he, I thought, but it was on the lump of fat that got stuck in his throat. The most ironic meal we ever had together, was stuffed stomach.

On all those journeys, on all those days where the single purpose was to find a decent place to dine, I never heard him complain about hunger. Only now that he doesn’t travel any longer, because he’s too stingy to buy two plane tickets, he says he is.

So was my daddy right?

I don’t think so. You can’t blame a wolf for his consumption manners! You can’t blame a lizard for eating little! It’s not hunger that drives us to obesity. My daddy got big, for the same reason a dog licks his balls. Or perhaps as a misplaced tribute to the goddess Adephagia.

Now that it’s probably to late for me to come to the rescue, I’ve discovered a very simple way for us outsiders, to keep our dear friends and family from over indulging. While you can make a dog stop licking his balls through castration, the approach with humans needs a little more subtlety.

All it takes is a big box of stink bombs, always at the ready. When desert becomes overdue, and the seventh or so course still has our dinner partner gobbling down more, simply break one or two vials, and throw them on the next dish. This is best done while the waiter carries it in, and you are on your way to the toilet. Not only will the stink prevent any further eating, the subsequent glass in the dish will most likely provide you with a free meal!

Previously posted on My.Opera, when they still had a blogging service. I’m rerunning the Daddy Said series here; when I feel like, I’ll write a new episode. This one I wrote in 2009; the third of the deadly sins.