I wish that when the doctors did my surgery, along with taking out the 85% of my stomach, they also took the 85% of my brain that makes me think like a fat person. I’m not even hungry, I know I’m not. But I just like the taste of food. I like to wonder what I’m going to eat for each meal of the day, and how it’s going to taste, and how I’m going to make it. While I’m on purees this week, I’m trying to think of different ways I can make it taste better. I’ll have tartare instead of having pureed fish soup; gross.
I’ll go and think like a fat person, and will put something in my mouth, and then my teeny tiny stomach will remind me that I can’t take so much. This whole journey is a huge process to take in, and people don’t seem to understand that I can’t change overnight– I’m talking to you Ronnie. As sick as it is, I still think about what my next meal will be, and what my first meal on solid food will taste like. I want filet mignon, we all know that.
I wish I could start thinking with a healthy brain rather than a fat girl brain. Too bad they haven’t come up with a surgery for that yet.