(alternate title: "she worries she'll never really be well"
and/or: "she wants more for her daughters... and yours")
Starting out is easy.
three cups of coffee.
no cigarettes since I couldn't see the sustainability of it.
not that I haven't considered.
Several hours later, I get the hunger.
cut back on carbs
Should I eat an egg?
Not with those garden tomatoes flaunting their taut red skin there on my counter.
Right next to the shrine.
the bread box
and the butter.
Its ok to eat some carbs for breakfast.
tis the start of the day, with many miles to travel.
Another black caffiene gets me to the lunch hour.
fishy crackers for the kids
Don't want a salad out of the wilted fridge zucchini, three week old carrots, and absolutely no lettuce or spinach leaves. Yuck.
Tomatoes with toast is good!
Three o'clock and kid snack time.
I'm looking hungrily at my own limbs
and imagining life without
handsful of cheerios,
puffed wheat cake
What could I eat and not
But I'm famished and there's
chocolate zucchini muffins
And who should dwell on carbohydrates at a time like this?!
and we've miles to go.
By half past four, the wine is looking chill.
In an hour I'll be faced with the second shift.
Sandbox from under couch vacuuming.
And there's bacon.
and cheese perogies.
And a garden tomato
on the side.
I remember my objective thoughts on aging and the expected shift in metabolic function.
I remember something about sugars, starches, size eights.
and I'm utterly unwilling to boil some eggs with a side of boiled brocolli.
I want the delicious life.
It's a shame I've been made to believe
tis only good
and I find