Memoirs of a Fat Girl

Fortune cookies make me laugh.

A novel idea, when you think about it: bedpan-shaped Asian cookie sought after for the tiny piece of paper contained within, possibly containing your life’s kismet, or lucky lottery numbers.

The funniest thing of all is that they aren’t actually Asian, but Californian by design. And, I have to admit that every so often I’m tickled pink when my cookie contains not just one cathartic slip of paper, but three or four that are closely stuck together.

Now, if only they actually said cathartic things. Or better yet, fortunate things. More often than not, those little pieces of paper are wise old anecdotes starting with Confucius say, or complete bull, like You live near the ocean.

Nice try, no cigar. And, no ocean. But at least it was better than, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. How about telling me something I don’t know, wiseass cookie.

Friday night, Sandy and I ordered Chinese from the Lotus Flower restaurant. We were too lazy to go out, and/or prepare anything on that greatest night of the week. Rice noodle satay and Kung Pao beef for me; orange chicken and sweet ‘n sour spareribs for him.

We share, though. We always do.

Post Chinese takeout is the ritual of the fortune cookie, or in this case, eight or nine of them. The Lotus Flower was quite generous in that department. And, no matter how stuffed I may be, I always end meals like that with a fortune cookie.

There are rules, too. First rule is, just one cookie. Second, I break it in half while it’s still in the package. Third, I unwrap it, and fourth is to eat half before reading the fortune. I have this nutty feeling that just in case that piece of paper says something auspicious, I already have to be crunching the cookie power so it’ll come true.

I cracked, unwrapped, crunched and unfolded my paper. Here’s what it said:

Someone from your past will have a profound affect on the future.

That upped an eyebrow. I looked over at Sandy, who’d fallen asleep on the couch, and playfully tickled his navel. He smiled and caught my hand, then pulled me over for a kiss.

Definitely my past. Positively my future.

The next morning Sandy and I took that blessed opportunity to sleep in, and do what we always do on lazy weekend mornings when there are a couple hours to spare: watch documentaries while having breakfast in bed.

Chinese takeout is always better the next day, and we sat cross-legged at our little boudoir picnic. Sandy stuffed pieces of sparerib into my mouth; I responded in kind with the orange chicken.

While bringing it all back downstairs, I noticed the still significant pile of fortune cookies. Chose another, went through the motions and was rewarded with:

Look around. You have much to be thankful for.

Freaky. Especially since that’s another certainty in my life these days, having much to be thankful for. I so do. I finished my cookie, meandered my way upstairs and slipped back under the covers with my lovely, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head next to his.

Now, what’s the lesson in all of this? Confucius say that maybe, just maybe, there is a wise old sage at the fortune cookie factory, thinking of you as he writes your fortunes.

Or, that life’s important messages come to you in the most unexpected forms. How fortunate.

Now, stop reading this and go look around. You have much to be thankful for.