Porn

I am not on a diet.

I probably need to be. Beginning in early July, I started to notice that my lifestyle (fast drinks, fast food, no exercise, etc.) was starting to manifest itself in tighter pants. Those once roomy blue jeans started to feel a tad tighter around the man-parts.

I am loathe to exercise, though. I don’t mind getting exercise by accident, but making myself sore for the purpose of making myself sore just doesn’t jibe with my generally lazy attitude toward life.

The wife, however, is more than a tad into a new self improvement program. The early results are fairly striking. I don’t dare go into specifics, but suffice it to say that the other night I felt like I was cheating on her when I stole a peek as she was getting ready for bed. Who is that woman?

The upshot of all of this is that I haven’t been eating much either. Our frequent trips to the local Mexican joint have been cut back to almost none. Take-out? Haven’t seen it. A huge meal slathered in butter and bacon from my devil-may-care hands? Haven’t cooked one. What’s more, I’ve had a grand total of four beers in the past 23 days and I’ve gone out to play cards once. Finally, I’ve reduced my diet soda intake by 80%.

Combine all of that with the fact that my buddies have either been ill, busy, or, in one case, caring for a newborn, and you have an Otis that has not been tending to his hendonistic side.

Frequent readers will note that my hedonistic side is, in a word, significant. I like huge, fatty meals. I like to take a drink or six. I like to be…okay, I’ll say it. I like to be irresponsible. The combined factors above, however, have led me to a rather quiet lifestyle that, albeit healthy, leaves me wanting. For everything.

So, take a trip into my bedroom, if you will. The hard wood floors are shiny. The bed is soft. The pillows are feathery. The TV, while inadequate, is packed with hundreds of channels of DirecTV goodness. On any given night, I have choice upon choice of what I can watch before I go to sleep.

Every night I settle on pornography.

At first, I didn’t think my wife would be interested. That kind of programming has never really suited her more delicate side. When I first turned it on, I expected her to sigh, roll over, put on a sleeping mask, and go to sleep. Instead, she grabbed my hand and squeezed. A small gasp escaped her lips.

“I want that,” she said as a man with nimble fingers worked on TV.

I didn’t respond at first and just watched her watch the TV. It was sexy and dirty and touched off every unsated nerve in my body. I heard her breathing quicken and had to steal a glance for myself.

Sure, Alton Brown was no John Holmes, but he would have to do.

For the past three weeks, the Mt. Otis television sets have been filled with little other than food porn. From Anthony Bourdain’s exotica to Alton Brown’s Dr. Ruth-style science, we have lapped up every bit of it. We’ve watched chocolate sculpting, how Pop Rocks get made, and reruns of Iron Chef (during which I developed an inexplicable crush on Iron Chef Cora as she berated her help for not removing the scales from a sea bass). If it weren’t for an active Netflix account (make me your Netflix friend by clicking HERE) and an ongoing love affair with the Coen Brothers, we would be watching nothing but food programming.

I know what the experts say. This Food TV is a gateway activity. Before long, my wife is going to find me at 3am, naked in front of the fridge and eating sticks of butter whole. But I can’t stop. Not right now.

I think Julia Child is coming on.

She gets me so hot.

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Brad Willis

Brad Willis is a writer based in Greenville, South Carolina. Willis spent a decade as an award-winning broadcast journalist. He has worked as a freelance writer, columnist, and professional blogger since 2005. He has also served as a commentator and guest on a wide variety of television, radio, and internet shows.

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5 Responses

  1. I have a crush on Geoff Manthorn from Ace of Cakes.

    Tell me Manthorn is not a porn name! Seriously.

    Hot.

  2. Anonymous Anonymous says:

    You had me. GOd dammit you had me!

    So damn disappointed

    G-Rob

  3. A 30-second advertorial from a guy named Poker-PEAK-er.

    If you love food so much, a simple, 30-minute run or exercise means you can eat more food.
    It’s that easy.
    I love to eat and love to eat desserts and shit like that. Chips. Real soda, not diet.

    But I also run four times a week.

    It’s a tradeoff. And I love it.

    Thank you.

  4. Anonymous Su says:

    I’ve got quite the addiction to HGTV going right now myself.

  5. Fulkie says:

    I’m in the boat also on the losing some poundage, dude. What’s bad is The Beacon is right down the road.

    By the way, have you checked out Big Brother After Hours on Showtime this season? It’s turning out to be pseudo-soft-core porn itself this year.

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