I Admit My Mom Stinks
This is the odd story of my life, and if you ever think it’s boring, just read until you get to the next sentence and it should be a bit more exciting.
You see, I am a totally normal girl. Born on the full moon during an eclipse and blessed by twelve fries as girls like that always are.
Yes, I said fries. Twelve perfectly salted, nice and long, crispy potato fries. I know they were perfectly well done because – well, I was a baby! What do you expect? I didn’t know they were the very fries that would change my life: the first food I ever ate.
My Mom and Dad saw nothing weird about the plate of fries that just appeared on the bedside stand, but when I spit up the first fry Mom lunged for it and now she smells like fries. Still. The doctor said it probably won’t ever wear off. I guess that’s the perk to having a weird child like me.
But that’s not all; I still haven’t told you the blessings yet! I can fill my mouth with however much food I want and swallow it whole without choking. I can salt things perfectly and everyone loves my food because of it. I can peel potatoes so fast, they won’t know they were ever removed from the ground, and they will be totally beautiful. I can do the same with boiled eggs. Water starts boiling the moment I turn the pan on. I can make a decision on a meal that everyone in the room will love without having to ask or listen to arguments about it. The kitchen and dishes clean themselves when I cook. I can fix food that changes to a person’s preference at their touch. I can run for a bathroom trip while leaving stuff on the stove and when I come back it will be done, but not burnt. My eggs will even be a bit gooey – just how I love them. When Mom opens her wallet, there will always be enough money in there to buy all the food we need for the next three weeks – several hundred dollars in our case. I can turn anything into a french fry just by thinking “that should be a french fry.” And last and coolest, I can turn into any kind of food I want, and I can change any part of my body to resemble food.
The last one took a while to get used to, but my favorite way to go is lips the color of strawberries and just as plump, eyes the color of ripe avocados, hair the color of a ripe purple plum, and skin as smooth as an unblemished banana peel but not yellow – more tan like Ritz crackers. My shape is typically a mix between a pear and a noodle, which means I’m somewhere in the ecto-mesomorph range. I like my hair to be the texture of the silk on a corn husk, as it makes springy ringlets and is extremely soft.
But with this crazy-cool food-related awesomeness comes a weird life and a few unwanted “friends”. If you’re interested at all in learning about them, read on! I wish I could escape into a book like you do.