Setting up Shop

One morning, when I was five or six, I woke up early, earlier than my parents and my little brother. Early enough that I knew if I snuck quietly passed the other bedroom doors, I could make it to the kitchen. And to the plate of bars that my mom's friend Gayle had sent home the night before.

I coveted those bars. I knew when I nibbled on one for the first time that I wanted MORE. And I woke up with that hunger grumbling in my kid belly.

So I took one. I shoved it in my mouth, chewing quickly, trying to hide the evidence before a parent appeared. And then I ate another, and another, and enough that when my mom finally noticed a couple of hours later, the plate looked empty. I undoubtedly looked guilty.

That was the first time I remember snitching food and trying to hide it. The first of many, many, many times.

I still feel like that little girl--more than 30 years later, more than 100 miles from my mom. Except now I'm a gazillion pounds overweight and desperate enough to stop the insanity to have had a RNY gastric bypass.

But, amazingly so, the more pounds that come off, the more that little girl fights to come back. Let's call her Shrinking Violet.