PARENTING, TRAVEL, AND LITTLE JOYS
In the light of the computer screen, an overtired caterpillar Googled the nutritional content of a McFlurry.
One Sunday morning, she put on her jeans and -pop!- off of the jeans rolled a tiny and very shiny button. She started to cry in the shower.
On Monday she ate through one protein bar. But she was still hungry.
On Tuesday she tried Whole 30 for like 2 hours. But she was still hungry.
On Wednesday she briefly considered ordering some kind of laxative tea from the internet, but she wasn’t an idiot. She was, however, still hungry.
On Thursday she ate through four apples. But she was still hungry.
On Friday she kept it together in the morning and then ate a bunch of leftover chicken nuggets standing over the kitchen sink in the dark. But she was still hungry.
On Saturday she ate through one piece of chocolate cake, one ice-cream cone, one pickle, one slice of Swiss cheese, one slice of salami, one lollipop, one piece of cherry pie, one sausage, one cupcake, and one slice of watermelon. That night, she felt pretty great and also awful.
Now she wasn’t hungry anymore, and she wasn’t a little caterpillar or a big, fat caterpillar. She was just, you know, a little wider around the middle than she wanted and also wondered why her chin does that weird thing now.
She built a small house, a cocoon of leggings and oversized tees, around herself. She stayed inside it for like probably nine or ten months while basically doing everything for everyone else and sometimes trying to eat kale instead of something desirable. Then she took off the cocoon, pushed her way into the old jeans, and decided to just order the next size up from Old Navy because she was too old for this shi*t.
Hi, I'm Jane.
"Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes." Said Thoreau. But he hung out in the woods and jail.