What I miss from 135lbs Ago

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I miss some aspects of life when I was big. 135lbs ago.

I miss the reckless abandon.

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I miss the volume of food, the horizon of eats that lay before me on a table, knowing full well that the only thing stopping me was my fist-sized stomach. And even then there was always stretch.

I miss the way the fourth slice of pizza tastes. The fifth even more.

I miss bricks of brownie + ice cream + caramel + whipped cream + the crumblies of a Reese’s twosome. For a snack after lunch.

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I miss when menus at restaurants were just lists of delicious dinners. And nothing more nutritionally threatening.

I miss not thinking for more than four seconds before deciding that, why yes, I’d absolutely adore donuts for breakfast.

I miss plunging my forearm into a bucket of thrice buttered pop corn at the movie theater. Shoveling mouthfuls of salted and soggy kernels into my gullet. Then Snow Caps. Then Sprite.

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I miss brunching with sausage, egg, and cheese on greased and griddled everything bagels in the dining hall at college. With hash browns and a mind on lunch.

I miss all ten inches of that buffalo chicken pizza I called for when the party music stopped playing. And Kelis’ Milkshake.

I miss not caring when or how my next meal came, only that it came. And stayed. And never left.

I miss the way Cap’n Crunch-ed so loudly I couldn’t hear my dad hollering.

I miss that feeling I had when every fiber of my anatomy believed food to be the kindest, most loving spirit a girl could know.

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Read part 2 here…

Read part 3 here…