In Which Miss Jill Uncovers The Homeless Obesity Epidemic

“Ladies and Gentleman, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m homeless…” -subway riders will recognize this heartfelt cry. As you avert your gaze from this personification of human misery, have you ever asked yourself, “If he’s so destitute, why does he have more rolls than a bakery (shout out to Eastview Elementary, 1987 for that awesome joke)?” I wondered that myself, until I took a proverbial walk in their shoes.

Living in Manhattan is a financial drain and it is necessary to utilize free food options in order to maintain the caloric minimums recommended by the World Health Organization. As I’ve mentioned before here and here, free food often drops out of the sky for me as a result of paying tithing. I’ve only spent about $20 on food in the last two weeks because I’m experiencing an unprecedented streak of luck. You could call it divine food stamps.

Unfortunately, as the free food rolls in, my waistline rolls out. The first problem with free food is that people say, “I baked these delicious cookies, have one,” not “Here are some steamed vegetables and brown rice.” The second is that you don’t know when luck will strike again, so out of necessity you are forced to eat 10,000 calories in one sitting, just in case. My co-worker threw a Turkish breakfast party at 10:00 a.m. yesterday and I was still painfully full at 9:00 p.m. It’s like preparing for a hibernation that will never, ever come.

Luckily, my two week death spiral into obesity has not caused me to lose hope, because as I have mentioned, I live with a nineteen-year-old model. No one is more uniquely qualified to be my mentor in an insalubrious dietary journey/crash diet. Although she has been on several “lifestyle changes” since we started living together (one involving the ingestion of human hormones), I haven’t noticed any adverse changes in her mood. This is fortunate, because a few months ago she was working as a hostess at an upscale restaurant while doing the Master Cleanse. I think that this involves drinking lemon water, but the NYOM is sleeping right now, so I can’t ask.

I guess that it was affecting her life outlook and energy level, because the boss warned, “If you don’t start eating again, we are going to have to fire you. A hostess can’t have a glazed expression.” As the NYOM was trying to go from plus-size to mainstream modeling, she replied with unexpected vigor, “NEVER!” She lost that job shortly thereafter, but has never looked back.