I just realized that I haven’t let myself eat in 40 years.
The real kind of eat, where you actually sit at a table and are hungry, and you think of the very thing you want.
I am fucking Caesar salad bitch.
I am that girl, with the Coach handbag, who claims that she isn’t that hungry anyways.
I hate that girl, but she’s fundamental. She is the thing I know.
I was better when I was pregnant. Let me tell you, I was aces about the eating and holy crap, my girls were still so small. I couldn’t even do that right.
So I sit. And am adamant that I haven’t fucked up my most precious things about food.
And I don’t even know what to say to you.
But maybe, there’s a little part of you that gets it. That makes you gasp for air because yes.
