Diary Of A Food Addict

Really, I don’t journal about my relationship with food. At this point, it is what it is, you know? 

I’ve got better things to do, such as looking at my pores in a magnifying mirror or talking about the weather*. But if I did, here is what it would look like.

New York, October 28th, 2023.

This is it. I don’t fit in my boyfriend jeans. My face has lost its shape—it now looks like a camembert—and my legs rub when I walk. No problem. I’ll just wear my loyal pair of black leggings and a gigantic sweater that will swallow me whole. Plus, I’ll use the Olsen technique—walk around with venti lattes. I’ll look mini. So New York!

Anytime the leggings make a comeback, you know it, dear diary. It means that I am over 70 kilos. When I am 70kgs, from the back I look like The Hulk’s younger brother. I have photos to prove it. Should I walk backward so that people only see my front? 

Oh, well. Whatever!

I’ll just have to count on my awesomeness.

I’ll be home soon, and I’ll get back to my regular way of eati…