It feels good for a while, but I know in a few months, when I’ve put the weight back on, I’ll begin thinking that things would be better if I was skinny – imagine some man picking me up and putting me on a kitchen counter, my tiny frame drowning in a trench coat on a crisp autumn day with leaves crunching under my feet. So I start following the rules again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again.
