When I Covered My Body in Packing Tape

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Sometimes in the flower of our coming of age, primarily those tepid junior high years, we see things done on television that strike our minds as being absolute genius. After we reflect upon these visions for at least an hour, which is an eternity for the average junior high schooler, we decide the only way to find satisfaction with our lives will be to try them ourselves.


I had one of those exact moments when I was fourteen years old. I was in the elementary stages of what would blossom into a life consuming eating disorder and witnessed a weight loss miracle on TV that consisted of a woman wrapping her torso with saran wrap in order to sweat out some weight. What self respecting overweight fourteen year wouldn’t be inspired to wrap themselves up like a thanksgiving left over and lie flailed across the bed spread eagle, awaiting the weight loss miracle to occur?


It was an almost religious experience as I ran to the kitchen and my excitement was on par of how Mary probably felt on the birth of Christ. The unfortunate fact of the matter, to my dismay, was that we didn’t have any saran wrap laying around the house for me to fastoon myself in. We did, however have quite a lot of packing tape. It was clear and in my youthful brain, I figured since it was sticky, I could shallack it even tighter to my stomach and the weight loss would be even more drastic.


So there I laid, locked away in my bedroom, taped up like one mighty ups delivery and waited as the time passed slowly by. After I decided sufficient time had passed and my weight loss miracle was in fact complete, I stood in front of the mirror and it suddenly hit me that I had covered my naked pudgy fourteen year old torso in packing tape.


How in sweet hell was I supposed to remove it?


I tried to cut a clean slice down the center, but that method only resulted in nearly filleting myself with orange sewing scissors. The only viable option was to rip it all off like a giant sticky bandaid. Needless to say, at the end of that night, I crawled back into bed with a four by six randomly shaped chunk of my epidermis stuck to a ball of tape in the garbage can in the corner.


Not all was lost; I did lose one pound.

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