“Yes, you’re right. It’s part of growing up, I suppose. You always have to leave something behind you.” ― Neil Gaiman, Season of Mists
Let’s talk about Fosters Freeze.
For those of you unfamiliar with this iconic sugar-serving establishment, Fosters Freeze — full name “Fosters Old Fashion Freeze” — is a dessert-only restaurant founded in 1946 by George Foster (who obviously wasn’t big on grammar).
Fosters is best known for its ice cream and milkshakes, but the star of the show in my book is the chocolate syrup that turns into a hardened shell of deliciousness when it hits the cold ice-cream.
It’s what I’m leaving behind.
A dynamic of my recent bingeing was making sure I ate every single one of the foods that had been denied to me since childhood: syrupy pancakes and custard-filled donuts, sugary breakfast cereals with whole milk, tapioca and chocolate puddings … and lots and lots of Hostess products. I did it all.
Except Fosters Freeze.
There’s a location up the street from my work that I just couldn’t get to in my Bingeing World Tour and every time I pass by, I think, “I should really hit that.”
Let’s think this through.
Except that it won’t stop with the improperly punctuated Fosters Freeze. After I have that chocolate-covered cone, my disease will present me with another “last hurrah” food that I absolutely have to have before I give it up forever.
For example, after I ate the pancakes, suddenly I needed to eat Frosted Flakes. After I ate the the Frosted Flakes, I suddenly needed to eat the cannolis. After the cannolis … I could could on but I think you get it.
I will eventually eat myself to death … one “last hurrah” at a time.
So, I’m considering Fosters Freeze a metaphor: It represents all the sorrow, suffering, and anguish that comes with binge eating. And an ice-cream cone is a small price to pay for my freedom.
Sorry, George. You really should have bought yourself an apostrophe.
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