Tis the season for food

Food has gotten easier to be removed from my life.
I see results and I guess that matters.
But food and dining is such a social and cultural thing.
Going to see a friend in Indianapolis, he had planned to go out, dine on homemade soup in handmade bowls. But I cannot.
And all the meetings.
How do you feel this week?
Have you wanted to eat food?
Have you been good on your diet?
Can I just go? This is infuriating.
Yes, I want to eat.
I want to eat real food daily.
I want to go out with friends and commune over Chipotle, or meet an out of town friend for German beer.
Enjoy the holiday, warmed by the food in our bellies, a fire, and community.
Nothing sounds better.


And I know, these bitchings are one of luck.
When people know of war, starvation, incurable illness. Fresh water is a luxury. Each time I want to break, I donate. Help someone build a well, or send money to children dying.

Something I never have to worry about.

Either way, it is Christmas season at work. There are two trays of candies and cookies. Honey baked ham has been served.

I keep eating diet pudding.
They make me hate food.