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39. Sourdough Sundays


I have a longstanding and loving history with this blessed condition called body dysmorphia. She is like an evil friend that continues to show up even though I have asked [repeatedly] for a friend divorce. In a 24-hour period of time, I can mentally gain 10-25 pounds. Though the scale doesn't move much, my pants fit differently. I feel my thighs rubbing together all day. I put on 3-5 outfits in the morning to find the right one. I question everything I am eating and doing. And then I go about my day pretending to be as normal as possible.


I successfully hid this part of me from our kids until the last couple of years when I could hide no more. They were all shocked and continue to think I am crazy. But really, aren't all Moms deemed crazy?


So, I continue to experiment with self-care and positive relationships with food and exercise. Lately, part of this plan has been sourdough bread. I really love sourdough bread, specifically sourdough toast with an oddly wonderful quantity of butter and strawberry jam. We buy sourdough on the weekends and it is a treat for everyone. Grill cheese sandwiches, egg sandwiches, toast, garlic bread. All of the things.


If my mind is going to continue to play tricks on me I am going to play tricks back. Nanna-nanna-boo-boo. Front-loading my week with a sourdough food baby is working well for me and all of my imaginary friends.


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