This is my eulogy to the Twinkie, my forbidden friend and lover. I come today not to praise Twinkie but to bury him. He has lived a good long life. It has been quite a love affair. There were other women, there were other men. It sounds so salacious but it really is love plain and simple. Everyone loved Twinkie. Actually, his full name is Twinkie Hostess. He had a lesser known but equally as loved sister Little Debbie who has passed on too, but she is not significant enough to have a eulogy.
I first met Twinkie when I was but a lass. Growing up outside of Pittsburgh we were forbidden to eat you. My mother was a gym teacher/exercise nut and she said you were bad. But you know how I tend to like men who are bad for me, men who have issues. Maybe you started this craze. When I was seven I tasted you for the first time, every creamy layer. I liked you. You gave me comfort. You said you were never going to put fat on my thighs. Like all men you lie, but I liked the lies you told. I was hooked on you Twinkie.
My father made fun of you after my piano teacher- a mentally unstable woman-stayed in bed after a break up and cancelled our lesson. He joked that she ate an entire box of you. I know I would have. Twinkie, you understood our feelings. You were the comforter, friend, and destroyer of all heart broken women. You were there to listen, there to relieve, and there to pack on the extra pounds so we would never have a man again. It didn't matter though, we had you as well as your sister Lifetime.
There were good times. There was sixth grade when someone brought in a box for their birthday. You helped us celebrate the special day and made it so much brighter. There was seventh grade when I split one of you at a forensics match and made a new friend. You were always helping me to make new friends. You were a bit of a man whore because you didnt care that women shared you. But Twinkie, you were unselfish that way and that's why we loved you.
There were also the times you saved my life. Yes, it was true. At seventeen I was working at a supermarket and feeling lightheaded. You were the first thing I grabbed and gave me a nice energy boost. Then at nineteen I got really drunk with my college friends and was falling over. I didn't know alcohol could act that fast. I needed to eat something to sober me up so I had three of you. I know it sounds shameful but it's true. You were delicious and perhaps it should have been on some Triple X super lovers sight, but who couldn't love a man who came in a whole box the way I loved you?
As I got older and more of you equaled more trips to the gym, I stopped buying boxes. I just got the two pack. You made me laugh again after a bad night of standup. You were the man to rescue me and ruin my waistline after a breakup. You were the only man in the world who could sit there and watch Lifetime Movies and let me eat him and let me tell you it sounds so dirty but there are so many women in my same damn boat.
I sit in my cold, damp apartment. I am writing this blog late into the night naked. I am watching reruns of Soul Food seasons 1-5. I cleaned my house and ate real food, food that fits on the Food Pyramid in health class under categories that are not other. Life is not the same as you can see. I am a wreck without you.
Some called you a simple carbohydrate, meaning you gave a spike in energy and then it faded. But your charm was eternal. Professionals who made their lives making people physically fit like my mother condemned you outright as a bad food, but you were a bad food with a good heart. Then there were men like my brother who ate boxes of you and wouldn't share, selfishly hogging your goodness because they needed to put the weight on to play football. And people like my sister, a runner and academic who viewed you as a snack, a slam to what you really were. Of course there were those who OD'ed on your lovin and had to go to OA and count days off of your sweetness. But all of this and more don't even begin to explain what you were to me and so many others. Twinkie, you were a man of many layers.
I am distraught without you, distraught.
In the background I play the old R and B song, "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?"
I am a shell of a woman. Hostess murdered you! TWINKIE I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU!
But then I remember all Twinkies go to heaven and you will always be my special star. The man who was misunderstood. The one who got me through breakups, makeups, drunken nights, made me friends, and was the best to watch Lifetime with.
RIP Twinkie. It has been a good run
Check out my book
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Amazon
I first met Twinkie when I was but a lass. Growing up outside of Pittsburgh we were forbidden to eat you. My mother was a gym teacher/exercise nut and she said you were bad. But you know how I tend to like men who are bad for me, men who have issues. Maybe you started this craze. When I was seven I tasted you for the first time, every creamy layer. I liked you. You gave me comfort. You said you were never going to put fat on my thighs. Like all men you lie, but I liked the lies you told. I was hooked on you Twinkie.
My father made fun of you after my piano teacher- a mentally unstable woman-stayed in bed after a break up and cancelled our lesson. He joked that she ate an entire box of you. I know I would have. Twinkie, you understood our feelings. You were the comforter, friend, and destroyer of all heart broken women. You were there to listen, there to relieve, and there to pack on the extra pounds so we would never have a man again. It didn't matter though, we had you as well as your sister Lifetime.
There were good times. There was sixth grade when someone brought in a box for their birthday. You helped us celebrate the special day and made it so much brighter. There was seventh grade when I split one of you at a forensics match and made a new friend. You were always helping me to make new friends. You were a bit of a man whore because you didnt care that women shared you. But Twinkie, you were unselfish that way and that's why we loved you.
There were also the times you saved my life. Yes, it was true. At seventeen I was working at a supermarket and feeling lightheaded. You were the first thing I grabbed and gave me a nice energy boost. Then at nineteen I got really drunk with my college friends and was falling over. I didn't know alcohol could act that fast. I needed to eat something to sober me up so I had three of you. I know it sounds shameful but it's true. You were delicious and perhaps it should have been on some Triple X super lovers sight, but who couldn't love a man who came in a whole box the way I loved you?
As I got older and more of you equaled more trips to the gym, I stopped buying boxes. I just got the two pack. You made me laugh again after a bad night of standup. You were the man to rescue me and ruin my waistline after a breakup. You were the only man in the world who could sit there and watch Lifetime Movies and let me eat him and let me tell you it sounds so dirty but there are so many women in my same damn boat.
I sit in my cold, damp apartment. I am writing this blog late into the night naked. I am watching reruns of Soul Food seasons 1-5. I cleaned my house and ate real food, food that fits on the Food Pyramid in health class under categories that are not other. Life is not the same as you can see. I am a wreck without you.
Some called you a simple carbohydrate, meaning you gave a spike in energy and then it faded. But your charm was eternal. Professionals who made their lives making people physically fit like my mother condemned you outright as a bad food, but you were a bad food with a good heart. Then there were men like my brother who ate boxes of you and wouldn't share, selfishly hogging your goodness because they needed to put the weight on to play football. And people like my sister, a runner and academic who viewed you as a snack, a slam to what you really were. Of course there were those who OD'ed on your lovin and had to go to OA and count days off of your sweetness. But all of this and more don't even begin to explain what you were to me and so many others. Twinkie, you were a man of many layers.
I am distraught without you, distraught.
In the background I play the old R and B song, "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?"
I am a shell of a woman. Hostess murdered you! TWINKIE I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU!
But then I remember all Twinkies go to heaven and you will always be my special star. The man who was misunderstood. The one who got me through breakups, makeups, drunken nights, made me friends, and was the best to watch Lifetime with.
RIP Twinkie. It has been a good run
Check out my book
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
877-Buy-Book
www.buybooksontheweb.com
Available on Amazon
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