Have You Ever Forgotten to Eat?

I can honestly, confidently, loudly and emphatically say, "I NEVER have."

I have never gotten so busy or had so much fun or been so miserable that I accidentally looked at my watch and "noticed" that it was way past my mealtime. I even eat when I'm sick.

One of the very first thoughts I have when I wake up, if not THE very first thought, is something like, "Only 60 minutes until I get a bagel with peanut butter! Yippee!" And then I usually have what's for lunch and dinner worked out before I put a foot on the floor.

One of my nieces would simply not eat if someone didn't remind her to do it. My husband would eventually eat without the reminder, but it's not remotely priority number one. I don't get either of these perspectives in any way.

I look forward to the way it feels in my mouth. I am enamored with the sweet and salty and spicy of it. I like the process of chewing and crunching. I find the preparing of it enjoyable. I want others to get pleasure from what I make. And I don't even mind the cleanup, truth be told.

I'm starting to think hard about my relationship with food. Why I let myself eat my way to where I was before and how I need to think and be now that I'm a very different person.

It's going to be an interesting head trip.