Sweet Tooth

I have a sweet tooth.  Actually, teeth.  I have gained about 6 lbs. since we opened.  I mean, I have to control the quality of the items in the bakery case, no?  If not me, then who? Sometimes the restaurant is a cruel taskmaster, but I have come to the conclusion that no matter what curve balls life throws in my direction, if I can munch my way through them, I am good.  However, nothing in my closet fits, so something has to give. One thing that I would like to see change is the amount of peace that I have with my body.  It needs a break from my constant criticism.  If it had its own will apart from mine, it would have abandoned me a long time ago because of all the nagging.  My mother used to tell me that what was fat about me was my head.  She meant my perception.  We used to do the master cleanse together, but a few days in, I would eat cookies on the sly.  I think she did, too, but we didn’t want to ruin the other’s inspiration.  Even when I was what I can recognize now as undeniably thin, my poor body never got a rest from complaint. I have looked at old photos of myself and wondered who that skinny woman was until I realized it was me. I think its time to embrace my body, endearingly call it “voluptuous” and eat a cookie.