Adrift on that gulf between wanting and having. I’d love a stack of doughnuts that look like a hamburger right now. I could also plow my way through an entire tray of roasted Brussels sprouts with Sriracha glaze. A crate of raspberries. Or just a cheese pizza. A bowl of fresh radishes with salt.
It took me most of the day to get out of bed to make a turkey sandwich. Then I ate it and immediately got hiccups because it was sort of like gulping sand. I washed it down with room temperature Gatorade, which is what my gut can handle right now. Then for a treat I ate the only fresh fruit I can have right now, a banana. It’s warm in the apartment and the bananas are a little spotted and when you eat one like that it sort of lingers. Not good.
I’ve been avoiding at all costs looking at food websites but just absent-mindedly clicked through a slideshow of top dessert spots in my city. At a remove of weeks from any indulgence remotely approaching those pictured, I felt like an anthropologist. The photos did not arouse much beyond curiosity, and certainly not anything approaching desire. I wonder at this. I wonder if I should mourn about it, or be grateful for it, or both at once. I know I am grateful it isn’t a permanent condition.