Ready for a nice time on a nice day
In 45 minutes, I need to be out the door for Mother’s Day. We have to pick up the beef sandwich set ups and the appetizer tray, and the chicken tenders. And my brother-in-law is bringing the sodas and the snacks and dessert.
And none of it is for me. I have a lunch packed. I will bring my diet soft drinks because I’m the only one who drinks them. I even bring my own silverware and a mini spatula so I don’t lick my plate or bowl in front of everyone. Because I would. And in a pinch I still will. Hence the bringing of the spatula.
I leave nothing about my food to chance. And I love that for me. I know I can count on myself to do my best and care.
I don’t miss Chicago Italian beef sandwiches, though they have been off the list for over 18 years. Are they spectacular? Of course. Are they worth picking up the drug that makes me hate myself? Absolutely not.
A lot of people say just have one. As if it were an obvious answer.
If I could just have one, my friend, I would not do this. Why would I choose all this work if I were capable of moderation?
I am happy to provide fun party foods to others. I am happy to go to a family event with people who have never known me any way but bringing my own food to every event. It’s a nice day and I’m ready to have a nice time.
onceafatgirl 