Bivalve Jones 2

I just finished half a dozen of free oysters on the half shell.

Almost didn't want to insert the pronoun there. Didn't want to own it.

They were free giveaways from Shannon, my favorite hostess and friend. She served them on NYE. She didn't eat oysters, so any leftovers would have been thrown away.

"That just breaks my heart!" I told Shannon upon hearing the news, and made a sad face.

At the end of the night there was exactly one box left. It was offered to me for my taking.

Who can pass up free oysters?!

I don't understand. Personally, i would not serve something i don't enjoy eating. (But then there isn't much i won't eat.) Perhaps Shannon regarded oysters as elixir of romance and gaiety, a must-have for such a grand occasion. And she buys from the best fish-monger, The Fish Market. That's when you know you won't have the runs. It's money well-spent.

I polished off those babies this evening after RJ gave me total permission. "My oyster desire is on the low ebb," he said.

As soon as he left for groceries, with Alley as I pleaded, i went at it in haste. I needed to do this alone. It was almost like having an illicit affair. Even the presence of Alley would have diminished the experience.

After i had my way with the molluscs, i ravished the cocktail sauce and grated horseradish, consuming it as if the combination was an hors d'oeurvre all by itself.

When i was done, plastic Solo® containers as well as shells rinsed and disposed of (so the offensive items wouldn't have 4 days before Trash Day to gravely stink up the receptacle), i felt relieved.

I was ashamed of the act. I had felt guilty of the act to start with. And at finish, i was ashamed of the guilt, too.

A distorted sensitivity may have been triggered by an incident yesterday when RJ and i were visiting at W's. Elsie asked if i was still skipping dinner.

"In terms of lunch being my main meal, yes," i responded. "But i snack all day."

RJ chimed in, "She starts from around 11 and basically eats until 5."

We laughed. But i was embarrassed. RJ joshes all the time, and i tease him back. We have a good dynamic going. But this felt like stealth attack. See, i was exposed on two levels: not only am i a glutton, i can afford to pig out extensively only because i don't have a job (and by choice, no less). Besides, food can be an off-limit subject anyway, since it's always been an issue for me. Only since, uh, first grade?

RJ is aware of my struggles but possibly cannot fully comprehend the curse that may go on vacation, but always returns. RJ is pretty guilt-free in that arena. I've envied that freedom.

So i've kind of regressed to eating behind his back. If he doesn't witness it, i'm not really eating all day.

When we went out of town recently on a 4-day trip, the uncertainties of when and what to eat didn't cause anxiety or obsession, much to my surprise. Illogically, in the safe haven of home where i should feel like i have all control over when and what to eat, i obsess. Boy, do i obsess.

Like i always say, some days are worse than others.

Of course, this is an easy one. After all, a Freudian slip is "when you say one thing but mean your mother."*


*possibly my favorite Cheers quote