The Food Monster

They call me 'Anny the food monster'. Friends hide their food when they see me coming. Relatives don't invite me over anymore. Ordinary mortals of the land have labeled me 'a certified, bonafide, verified glutton'. Baaaaaaah!

People come up to me and instead of the usual "My you've grown!" and "What a lovely young lady!" they say "Ae hae! Yae tau wahee bhookee bachee hae!" As a baby I would bite my playmates' arms and when the little brats would go off to tattle, bawling their lungs out, I'd eat their food.

Dad worries I'll drive my hubby out on the pavements. Ma worries Sassoo Ma'll throw me out of the house. "Why o why can't she be like other normal girls" she laments to my Khala who has two annoying daughters that nibble on their food. Can you imagine that? Disgraceful young women I say! I'm also sadly the only one saying so. Like, what is there to life if you can't pack away 5 Zingers with extra Mayo? Do you deserve to even live after oil-free daal and skimmed milk?

Needless to say, I'm treated like a circus clown. Friends introduce me as "She's the one that eats 12 dabbas of Pringles after 4 plates of Biryani". Young men who would be potential mates in normal circumstances, gape ill-manneredly as I chew on my food like a ruminating baby cow, savouring the delicious delicacies life has to offer; other she-morons on the table eat like there's a qeher in town.

The one time Dad blew his top was when we were out dining at BarBQ Tonite, a place where one runs into all and sundry. Not having eaten for an entire hour I was ravenous and apparently eating with both hands (and a leg Ma insists). Dad sat next to the befuddled buyer we were entertaining, with a strangely, hilariously, murderous look on his face as his Afghani Tikka grew cold. That's one deal he didn't get must sadly admit.

"She eats like ten men" says my brother proudly showing me off to his pals. They ooh and aah and look at me with such respect it makes me want to cry. That silly old bag o' bones down the street should learn from these delightful young men. "Iss ka kuch nahin bannae ga. Ajeeb bachee hae. Aap issay Pir kay paas lae jain,"she tells my hysterical Ma. She'd seen me eating Kentucky Fried Chicken in the car on my way home one day. The meaty part was in my mouth while the chicken's delicate ankle stuck out. So sue me, you hag. It had been a long day for Pete's sake. And I was hungry.

Worm medicines of the world have been administered to me. Sadly no reptiles have been found in my tummy to date. I've been to every Pir and his mother, but in vain; no jinns in there either. They all give my poor Ma hope in the form of phooka hoa paani but ask for my autograph as I leave months later, as 'bhookee' as ever.

One year's starved Miss America when asked what her greatest wish

was, passed on world peace and announced that she would like to eat

everything on earth, twice over.

Good show.