After half a day’s hustle my belly bemoans, not for a lush salad or the latest trendy juice but a hearty fried rice with chicken and a hefty six pack of mini egg cakes. My heart descends, with a fairly demanding job I have no time to indulge in such a meal with the gusto I should.
A high metabolism helps this writer to guzzle down junk food with no shame. I find the many beauties that surround me find what they believe to be errors in their forms. Stop. Don’t guilt or fear over a large slab of cake, swig of fine wine or a mere glance at the dessert menu.
T’is society’s complex with an individual’s body identity that leads to such self shame. I cannot and will not lessen my food intake to gain a more defined waist or to gain the pride of losing a stone I could have learned to love.
That Rihanna song comes to mind, not the one in which she exclaims about the trials and tribulations of the millennial worker, but her lighter slightly less innocent tune dubbed cake. I have a sordid affair with the stuff, soft, fluffy, light and oh so fattening. An excessive dribble of fresh cream or a bowl of steaming hot custard is the perfect pinnacle to accompany such a delight.
But I’m wavering off topic. Overall life is too delicate, fast and short not to enjoy a few culinary indulgences, food can be orgasmic, tantalizing and oh so gratifying. Society needs to rekindle its love of food, forget the guilt, just enjoy.
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