Tawni: The Time I Ate a Donut Off of a String and Lived to Tell the Tale

donut-off-of-a-string

On October 21st, 2012, I made a choice to turn my back on something I’d been morally opposed to for 20 years (yes, as a child I’m sure I refused.)

I ate a donut off of a string.

Not just any donut…. a POWDERED donut. Now, please don’t think I have anything at all against crap food.  I could write a whole post on my love for preservatives and my fight for life against them. My problem is with making a complete and utter fool out of myself by being anything but poised, graceful, and elegant (*British accent here*). Eating a donut hanging on a string is anything but graceful. And it most certainly is not elegant. Especially since I’m a little tall… and hefty of medium build.

It’s a social event for young single adults. So I squint my eyes and allow myself to be coerced into attending. I’m standing in a giant room, filled with booths featuring various and sundry activities that are not for the poised, graceful, and elegant. I go to the least offensive booth and pretend I’m totally cool throwing stuff at stacks of cups like a moron.

My well-meaning friends point out the guy across the room who meets my 6’ 4” height criteria. I think of my mother. Her words of concern over my lack of interest in dating. Her words of encouragement. Rather, her pleading that I give up my poisedgracefulandelegant act and give anybody, ANYBODY, the time of day for long enough that they might have a chance to ask me on a date annoy me. It was selfishly motivated. She just wanted grandkids.

So I look across the room for 2.7 seconds and this guy annoys me in 5 ways.

  1. He’s dressed like a cowboy. Yeah, it’s a Halloween party, but does nobody respect the  whole “earn the boots” thing? (note how I never considered he might actually be a cowboy and those boots could have actually seen a solid days work.)
  2. He’s wearing boots, which make men look significantly taller. Cheater.
  3. He’s flirting with another girl (The nerve. Doesn’t he know I’m considering making eye contact with him?!?!)
  4. He’s running a booth (which means he is partly responsible for all these awful games)
  5. It is the most offensive booth at the party. Yes, he’s convincing people to eat a donut off of a string.

SERIOUSLY?! The only guy over 6 feet (maybe) in the room is running THAT booth? That’s worse than bobbing for apples! At least your face is hidden in the water while you make a fool of yourself. We work our way around the room. We’re getting closer to the donut booth. And I know I have a choice to make. Turn my back on all things respectable to try to catch the attention of the cowboy OR stay true to myself and refuse to participate. One of these choices is clearly better than the other.

So I start walking right past that booth with the greatest of dignity.

And the cowboy looks me STRAIGHT IN THE EYES and says “don’t you want a donut?” 

HA! Easy.

“No thanks”

“I’ll do it with you! C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

wrong, bad, NO, fun is the f-word

*Awkward laugh* “Okay!” (….. idiot.)

He points to a donut. I walk over. It’s hanging down by my knees. I consider running for my life. The cowboy yells “Go!”. Ten people start eating donuts like animals.

I do an awkward bend squat and try to bite the donut with my remaining dignity. But elegance won’t do the job. So I deliberate, “What’s worse? Looking like I can’t eat a tiny donut off of a string or getting powdered sugar on my face?”. Suddenly, everyone else is done and my donut has been pitifully nibbled and the worst happens.

People start looking at me. I imagine the possibilities in my imminent future. What if they start a chant. What if EVERYONE IN THE GYM WATCHES ME EAT THIS DONUT. I’m going to kill that cowboy. He probably isn’t even 6 feet tall. In desperation, I eat the donut in one bite, like a glutton. The cowboy smiles at me.

And I marry him 10 months later.

Like a moron. But a happy one.

This year for Halloween we’ll be eating a donut off of a string to remember that day.

Because I’m pretty sure My Cowboy (yes, he’s earned his boots) married me just because he delights in making me uncomfortable.

Happy Halloween!

Love,

Tawni

Author: Tawni

Tawni is a former special education teacher, now stay-at-home momma. She spends her days reading, cooking with lots of cheese, listening to professional choral music, and tickling her baby boy, Cy. She lives with her husband and son in Utah.

One thought on “Tawni: The Time I Ate a Donut Off of a String and Lived to Tell the Tale

  1. Sam says:

    So I may have looked a every post on this blog even though I don’t teach special ed. And hearing this story from inside your head was kind of the greatest. Good luck with your new brand!

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