Perception Spring 2023

Beef Wellington
I. Alvarez
I decided to become a vegetarian tonight, after my father and I split a
beef Wellington and drank two glasses of Nero d’Avola. It was good,
nothing too flashy, but a little heavy like I like my red wine to be. The
beef Wellington disgusted me. The pastry, soggy from bathing in fat
and mushroom sauce, was too small for the chunk of ground meat
that engorged the whole plate. I tried to pick around the meal and
just eat the zucchini and green beans on the side, but it was of no
use. The beef Wellington sat there smugly and would not dissipate
until I brought another forkful to my mouth.
I know what he got me for Christmas. I am excited to open my gifts
in the morning and feign surprise. Before my parents divorced–
a few months prior to their trial separation–my mother and I got
into a huge fight right around December 21 or 22. I don’t recall
what we were arguing about, but I presume it was some pointless
contention that only arose because I was now conscious enough of
my femininity to make it her problem. Santa’s not fucking real, she
yelled. She threw box after box, pristinely wrapped with the corners
all folded to mathematical precision, out of the closet where she’d
hidden them. Santa isn’t real, it’s me who does all this hard work
while your father sits on his ass.
I wanted to order another glass of the wine, but then I’d have to
keep picking at the beef Wellington, so I refused a refill and dessert
and asked the waiter to bring our check. The two of us sat there in
silence, staring down at our laps or the food or outside the window
to the empty Starbucks across the street, refusing to make eye contact.
Lines and Waves
Hayden Celentano | Photoshop
26 | Perception
The act of consuming without thinking about what you are putting
into your body seems to spit in the face of womanhood. Doing
anything mindlessly is absurdly antithetical to gender performance.
This is a lesson I’ve learned from my mother. After the pandemic
Spring 2023 | 27