Chronic Bad Breath

During every commercial break on Paramount Plus, there’s an advertisement for HIV medication. My kids asked me, “Would you go out with someone who had HIV?”

Without even thinking about it, I replied, “Hell no.”

They love hypotheticals, and tacked on the condition, “What if he was the love of your life?”

I said, “I’ve wanted to break up with someone for having chronic bad breath; HIV is way worse.” I added, “Someone with HIV should go out with someone else who has HIV. Based on this commercial, there must be millions of them.”

We are watching Paramount Plus for South Park, but I also watch it for Drag Race. This last season stood out to me. The cast was much younger than usual, and almost all of them were well-adjusted musical theater kids.

Usually, every season, there is an ex-crack head prostitute contestant or someone approaching fifty who is referred to as the crusty old grandma and has a drag style that hails back to the eighties. This season, though, there was one character who had to take on all these roles, and they were 32 years old. 

It was a tame season, a bit of a bore really. By the end, you could tell that this cast of drag queens was a few years out from being the stars of their high school drama departments, and their families all loved them, encouraging them to pursue their dreams of being on Drag Race. The height of drama in the confessionals was when a contestant revealed they used to be fat. The follow up question missing, "Were you sucking dick for Twinkies?"

This season was far less entertaining than a cast made up entirely of ex-junkies trying to quit smoking and stay rail-thin.

This is likely the hardest thing a person can do: stay skinny after quitting smoking. Mary Karr suggested knitting every time you crave a cigarette. In Whoopi Goldberg’s latest book, when she quit cocaine, she told herself, “You are going to gain twenty pounds, and you have to be okay with that.” 

I don’t know why I used quotes there; I am definitely summing up a sentiment from a book I read last year. That is not a direct quote from Whoopi’s book.

I have to lose ten (more like 15) from quitting vaping. I still try on my jeans, sometimes they go over my butt, and I can yank the zipper up, but sometimes I can't get them much farther above my knees. I have to be nice to myself, like these kids on Drag Race’s supportive families. So what, I have to lose ten (maybe 15) pounds; it could be a lot worse. 

I could have chronic bad breath.