We're All Naked Under Our Clothes

TORN SKIN BY LÚA OCAÑA

Confessions of a Fat Foodie

My workplace has free donuts every Friday. Within a year of working here, I will be the fattest person you know.

One of the hardest things about being an adult is making good nutritional choices. But I have no self control. I probably eat just like my 8 year old self would have if given the opportunity. I love food. Especially the unhealthy kind.

Once a week, I will eat a salad, covered with grilled chicken, cheese, croutons, and fatty dressing. Then I will go on a short walk, maybe a block or two, and pat myself on the back. "You're so health conscious." I will say, and that night I will reward myself by eating a whole box of organic peanut butter sandwich cookies.

When I Grow Up

When I grow up I want to be a blues man, a firefighter, and an astronaut. I want to be a reclusive writer and an infamous swordsman. I want to be a race car driver and I want to fight crime. I want to throw the most extravagant soirees on the planet and host the most intimate dinner parties. I want to travel with a lost carnival and see all of the world's wonders. 

I want to be famously transparent to the point of exhibitionism, and I want to be an enigma, ever shrouded in mystery. I want to be a million years old and never age a day. 

I want to have muscles that cut your eyes when you look at them and I want to be on magazine covers. I want to eat anything and everything I desire. 

I want to be a devout husband, a loving father, and a pious saint. I want to run around with all of the prettiest girls and be the most worldly-wise man for miles. 

I never want to die. I want to own a hovercraft and move objects with my mind. I want to stand on the edge of the planet and watch the sun burn out. 

Then I want to sit in the darkness and listen to the stars until I lose my mind and drift off into outer space.