I spent much of my winter nibbling greens and nuts, hallucinating about bread, cheese and rice. At my weakest, I wanted to pile them up, add layers of mashed garlic potatoes, and dive in, face first.
It was cold; the rowdy winds were matched only by hunger pangs that cut into my sides. But by the time the Sun bobbed up, my red bikini sat gently against my skin, not a bulge or crease appeared. I was at the very top of the food chain; the summer might as well have surrendered.
There was so much to look forward to, and yet here I am, stowed away under the shade, covered in little white flakes that appear like tidal waves. Despite a pharmacy of sun creams at work, my skin is peeling, tearing my hard earned form into nothingness.
I adjust the soft wrap across my body and spend the rest of my beach holiday under the shadow of lost feasts and calories full of joy.