foodie, goodie - will they ever rhyme?

The food at work is out of control.

Sometimes it's leftover catering that was brought in for a client.

At some point this is lovingly placed in the lunchroom/vending machine area.

And there it is:

Spinach pasta drenched in wonderful olive oil - with capers, kalamata olives, goat cheese, garlic, herbs and just enough sun dried tomato.

(just enough)

And half a cake.

(any kind of cake)

And people keep baking cookies.

And we always have left over prop food.

Which could be anything - like pettifours, or a beautiful forty dollar wedge of cheese (don't worry, there's, at minimum, a loaf of whatever was the best looking, most relevant bread to go with the cheese).

And we have to eat these things. Right away.

Because they're just going to go bad.

Because under what other circumstances would we have access to a forty dollar wedge of cheese?

GO KRAZY!

Six months ago?

This didn't matter. Not to me. This was great.

But a combinations of things happened in the interim.

Things that began with quitting smoking.

Things that were complicated by being relaxed and happy.

(apparently it was my millions of problems that had kept me thin)

And so my body powered down.

Way down.

Then I turned forty. And my metabolism simply shut down.

metabolism: cancelled

What a cliche. But no one was geralizing.

It is at exactly forty that one's metabolisms run out.

I've gained 100000 pounds.

Even if I am tall - that's a lot of me.

I can hide - I have been hiding, but not from myself, people, not from myself (aria).

So welcome - this is the larger me.

largess

I wonder what that word means. I fear it means me.

Size, large.

large

I'm still deciding whether to take action or accept things as they are.

(and not eating is not an option)

lovin' life - right here, right now!