a study in sophistry

i've developed a funny secret habit as of late. in pondering this behavior, which never fails to amuse me despite the fact that i do it everyday, i found myself attempting to ascertain the background of this habit. in doing so, i considered the following:

i eat my lunch at my desk in my cubicle. as i have been cooking a lot, i've been bringing quite delicious lunches to which i sincerely look forward and thoroughly enjoy ingesting. anyway, since i bring these said scrumptious lunches from home to the office, i use tupperware, which — as it was orginally designed for storing food and not necessarily eating from it — i too often find awkward. in general, i seem to acquire round containers that are too deep. or square ones that have ridges on the bottom that i find inconvenient. now to be honest, these aren't "official" tupperware pieces; they're more like delivery containers, deli-type plastic things, along those lines. perhaps i would not encounter the same issues if i purchased the real tupperware. but, as is, i employ the use of these not-so-sophisticated food carriers, which ultimately do the trick. bringing me to my point, which is that — on a practical level — while eating, food is sometimes difficult to get at. try eating something out of a deep, round tupperware with a fork. i mean, it's just physics. there are angles you cannot reach with the utensil. [so maybe just geometry?] and the ridged square ones from union market that my roommate brings home, why do that? food, of course, can easily become lodged in the ridges and solving that, too, is an unsucessful venture with a plastic fork. why not use plastic spoons, you might ask. well i suppose it is true that the nature of the spoon has the potential to improve the mechanics of my lunchtime. however a) the guy who sits a cubicle over from me has a giant cup full of plastic forks that i steal when he's not in the office and b) the last plastic spoon i used was so wide that i injured the inside corners of my mouth eating split pea soup.

so, i return to the matter at hand: i have prepared a quality lunch, i want to eat it, and i want to eat all of it. i think that's reasonable.

so, each day, i face the same pivotal moment: i have gotten as far as is possible with my fork. and i sometimes take fairly drastic measures, too: you can get some of the lodged food if you perform an extended "tip" in the square ones. and there is certainly ground to be gained by utilizing the combination "tip/scrape" with the assistance of the fork. there's also the more radical "shake," which involves restoring the cover of the tupperware, resealing it carefully (in order to avoid the possible splatter factor, which is a very real risk if the meal has included any liquidy components), and giving it a good vertical shake or two, in an effort to dislodge those elusive noontime morsels. and yet despite all this, inevitably, food remains.

having thus arrived at the behavior itself, which i assume is fairly easily identified at this point; yes, you guessed it: i go in for the lick.

i always look both ways before i do it. i have yet to be caught. i am careful, sly, mindful. however, without fail, every day at some point between noon and two, i can be found, tupperware raised to my face, licking up the remnants of my lunch. as i said, i find this funny. when i look both ways i often smile because i love the skewed association. "look both ways" always implies traversing a street. but touche, not here. i think that's funny. i also think it's funny that after all i've gone through to get this food into my mouth, when i'm finally succeeding, all i can think about is what i'm going to say if my coworkers see me. i mean, it's bound to happen. so everyday i spend the actual licking session not enjoying the food, but coming up with creative ways to justify my somewhat uncouth behavior.

i have determined that the only real and viable option if i should be caught in the act is one of accordance and shamelessness. if caught, i must first demonstrate complete comprehension that what i am doing could be considered vulgar and disgusting, and second make it quite clear that i simply do not care. if i were only do half of this, and acknowledge that what i'm doing might be considered by others (not, let me be clear, by this page) as gross yet fail to communicate that i don't care, then i shall look stupid. insecure. childish. i mean, i am licking my tupperware, right? so indeed, if necessary, i shall acknowledge the crudeness and rebuff its significance.

as in,
"i'm being totally disgusting, i know, but i'm not gonna waste this food."
or building on that theme AND reinforcing my self-confidence/security which is always a face-saver:
"i'm being totally disgusting, i know, but i'm not gonna waste this food — did i ever tell you what an amazing cook i am?"
or the more clever response which conveys both sentiments within a joke:
"don't mind me, i'm just looking for something" [proceed with licking]

regardless, my mind is occupied as such during the lick.

the last thing to be said on the lick itself is that it can present problems of its own. the most serious, of course, being the fact that you tend to get food on your face. ultimately, with a deep tupperware dish, for example, you will face some of the same hurdles causing you to succumb to licking the thing in the first place. but this time you will actually face them. with your face. i made an indian bean dish the other day that was yellowish in hue. it took me over three hours to realize that a substantial portion of my chin was screaming jaundice. or, more accurately in this case, turmeric. but yes, it's an issue.

if you recall — and no judgement if you do not; i sometimes forget what i'm talking about — i began this decidedly convoluted analysis in an effort to explain why i have become a tupperware-licker. as you see i've set it up very nicely, what with the logistical and valid difficulties presented by travelling food paraphernalia, eating away from the home, etc. and i did give it some thought. and i do often think these things while engaging in the licking. however, as i sort through this thought process, i realize something much more important than everything that preceeds. something that essentially voids some, or most, ok all, of what i've said to this point. indeed, it dawns on me that this is a prime example of over-analysis. because you know what?

i lick my plates at home, too. (yes — the nice, smooth flat ones)

in light of this new evidence, allow me a few brief edits.

1) please make the following alteration in the first sentence: "i've developed a funny secret habit" should now read "i have a funny, no longer secret habit"

2) omit everything between the first sentence and what follows immediately below:

i like to lick food off dishes.