Fat
I count the potato chips because one is too many, and a thousand is not enough, and how many carbs are in them, and only wash them down with a diet soda, or a water, because really, that’s the most diet you can get, and I pass on the birthday cake, and the pieces of chocolate, and even the pie, and I try not to eat in a restaurant because it’s too hard and too tempting when you’re trying to be good, and still fit in your pants, and be as thin as you think you need to be inside your head, while feeling as fat as ever inside your mirror, and why can’t the voices ever stop, and I try to remember a time when food still tasted good, and could be fun, and I didn’t have to worry about fitting into my pants, and I loved that chocolate cake that my mom made, and holy hell, that Coke tastes good, and damn I love hash browns
It is all metabolism’s fault. File it under life isn’t fair. π
Hey, the fair, where you can get funnel cakes and cotton candy and burgers and. . . .
Sigh. All of this. Yes.
Makes me hungry just thinking about it.
I know the feeling. Things aren’t the same as they used to be. Hey, I like this new blog look!
Thanks!