![]() But even those urban legends have a slant of truth to them. Growing up, we traded gossip about razor blades in Halloween candy or condoms in fast food hamburgers. There have always been cultural myths about contaminated or poisoned food. I thought of myself as a walking disease. I imagined my brain riddled with holes, like the cross-section of a lotus root. OCD is often called the 'doubting disease' because deep down, the sufferer knows the thoughts are irrational.īecause I was consuming all of this human waste, I pictured my body as host to myriad viruses and bacteria: HIV, hepatitis, listeria, salmonella, botulism, mad cow, and so forth. ![]() “That could be semen,” I would think for no good reason, or “that might have been someone’s fingertip”. I’d take my fork and slowly pick and move food around my plate with a miserable, paranoid meticulousness. I saw scabs, imagined meat was replaced with human flesh, and assumed someone had pissed, ejaculated, spit, or defecated in my food. But afterward, the specter consumed my thoughts at nearly every meal prepared outside of my home. I hadn’t considered tainted food before that day. ![]() By the time her mother picked us up, I knew for sure I was dying. My heart scrambled in my chest while we sat on the floor of the bookstore flipping through Hit Parader. As my friend purchased Proactiv at the kiosk near the escalator, I thought of flesh-eating bacteria. Even though I hadn’t eaten it, I had been in close proximity to what I deemed infected food. ![]() I got up and threw the Cinnabon in the garbage.įor the rest of the day, I thought about the Cinnabon. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |