that's way too much sugar. / for belly 😌
" for you, maybe, " i reply, mid-tear of my pain au chocolat. the thick, parisian drinking chocolate i chose to pair it with piled high with fresh, whipped chantily cream. for many, it's a stomachache waiting to happen. but not for me. no, i'm singularly determined to conquer this chocolate mountain all on my own, even with lana's combination of concern and judgement.
i'm still in the comfort eating stage of heartbreak. at least, that's the excuse i've been giving myself these last few weeks as i try to sort out what pieces of me have been shattered and exactly who did the damage.
the consensus: the wounds were self-inflicted. hence, the shoving them down with an absurd amount of pastries.
" i promise, i'll let you get something of nutritional value in me later. " i think back to this summer, to sharing the beach house with conrad and the way he'd leave me a plate of whatever he'd cooked for himself in the fridge because he knew if i had it my way, breakfast, lunch, and dinner would each be a different flavor of pop-tarts.
" i do have to say, though, the french really have this all down. this, " i gesture to the spread before me, " is way better than crying my feelings into a pint of ben & jerry's. " been there, done that, do not want to repeat that.
