A couple things happen when you eat alone as often as I do. First, you sort of give up on plates and silverware. You get home at 10 p.m. after drinks with your ex, and instead of heating up leftovers in the fridge (the only thing in your fridge right now), you eat white cheddar Cheez-Its over the sink. Maybe an oozy block of Gorgonzola that’s so hot it burns the roof of your mouth. You’re still hungry, so you take those leftovers out of the fridge after all, a greasy takeout box of deep-fried, cream cheese crab Rangoons. Even cold, they’re still crunchy. When you’re full, finally, it dawns on you that your entire meal was cheese. It also dawns on you that you probably eat with your hands because a boy once said to you, “You have nice hands.”
You imagine your mother watching you, you with the small apartment that doesn’t even have a table to eat Cheez-Its or blue cheese at. And in that moment, you can see yourself from above, as if you’ve astral projected out of your own body and are observing as a bystander.
Source: FS – All – Food – News
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