More Food.

I keep thinking about something that came up in my last post – if I didn’t gain weight, would I eat a lot more?

I think there’s an assumption that I would.

I grew up with my best friend, Frank, who couldn’t gain weight even if he had an Ensure I.V. pumping into his system 24/7. As much as I LOVED him, I was wildly, crazily jealous that he could eat whatever he wanted and not gain an ounce. No matter how many problems he had, and there were plenty, I believed him the luckiest man on earth – simply because he was naturally skinny.

At a bbq the other day, my friend’s son John said that his brother had ‘won the gene pool lottery’, because he, like Frank, can eat anything and everything and stay super thin. John and his other relatives are plump by nature.

I understand that in our society, it’s much easier and acceptable to be thin. But it’s interesting that it seems universally true that eating more is better.

I always assumed that if I could eat without gaining weight, I’d never stop eating.

But now, I don’t think that’s true. I’m fine. While food used to call, scream, cajole and sing “Melissa” endlessly, it now seems to have forgotten my name.

I like it that way.

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