An Open Letter to Anthony Bourdain

I spent most of Sunday binge watching Anthony Bourdain’s show “The Layover” on Netflix. He is one of my favorite travel/food journalists and I consider him something of a muse — meaning I like how he thinks, writes, eats, drinks and travels. About six hours into my Bourdain smorgasboard I was feeling a little nauseous from watching him consume vast quantities of food in Taiwan. Like any good social media person, I headed over to Twitter to ask him the question on everyone’s mind:

@Bourdain Binge watching The Layover on Netflix. How in the hell have you not spontaneously combusted on TV from the sheer amt you pack in?

— Lisa Frame (@Daily_Pinch) May 31, 2015

Why has your stomach not exploded on TV, Mr. Bourdain. You eat and eat and eat with a seemingly insatiable lust and then you eat some more. It doesn’t matter how hot the weather is you are in a pair of jeans, a long sleeved shirt with rolled up sleeves, consuming more calories than my 14 year old son.

Are your legs hollow? Are you only taking a few bites and then stuffing your crew to the point of bursting? Why haven’t you spontaneously combusted? Are Marge Simpson’s pregnancy pants the secret to your success? Or are you doing some sort of mystic voodoo crap that enables you to consume that much food without gaining an ounce?

We, The People of Bourdainistan, are at your mercy oh ye of mighty metabolism and endless appetite. Please let us in on your secrets and tell us what really happens behind the scenes.

How many antacids are you popping? Is Pepto your chalky pink best friend? Do you have little blue haired ladies mixing up a bicarbonate of soda elixir for your tummy? Gum? Ginger? Peppermint tea? 

WHAT IS YOUR SECRET?

It’s maddening I tell you. I would love to be more aggressive as I write this, but I’m afraid I’ll offend you mightily and will forever be banned from breaking bread with you so long as we both walk this planet.

I seriously considered debating your bathroom habits tonight, but my husband looked at me and said “WOAH! That’s aggressive!” So no toilet humor or discussions. Of course, my husband is not from the South and doesn’t understand that we’re taught from an early to age to ask about or blame movements.

In all seriousness, we, your people and rabid watchers, Oh Mighty Main Man of Bourdainistan, have a need to know and only you can give us the answers we so desire.