This evening, I stand in the kitchen and chop.
There are friends coming for dinner, and that makes me happy.
These days, food makes me happy, too.
There was a time in my life where food didn’t make me happy. In fact, I was downright afraid of it.
And that fear persisted long after I made my recovery from my eating disorder. It persisted so long that, one day, I decided to do something about it and just plain fall in love with food.
If love is an arrow, I wrested the bow out of Cupid’s hands, took aim and fired.
I didn’t miss.
In the absence of new photos on my reel lately, I’ve been scrolling through some of my older shots. I scroll all the way back to 2009, when my love-affair with food began, and I find lush…
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