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Happily Ever After As A Really Credible Paradoxical Giant

I am sure the cashier of the local supermarket where I had been foraging for weeks in a row, had no clue that by publicly exposing my secret habits she deprived me of the daily purchases that were supposed to get me through puberty. “It’s been too hot, hun”, she shouted, “You’ll find the chocolates in the freezer today!”

Being a friendly lady, she was last in a family of twenty-one siblings, can you imagine, and her mother died in labor delivering her, she often told me. Weeks before she had also trusted me with the information that no-one in her huge family was even talking to each other anymore and it was exactly tragedies like that making me crave comfort food, being that kind of teenager I guess, having trouble coping with disarray and entanglement.

No bonbons, bag of crisps and no carton of milk that day. I didn’t even look at the turning heads in line at the checkout and fled in embarrassment, determined never to set food in that shop again. Only two years after this gruesome incident that is still stuck in my bones, I left my parental house for my first own apartment that, lucky me and my memories, turned out to be situated in the exact same store, just gone bankrupt.

Then life happened and throughout it I kept on struggling with the whole concept of food having to be nourishing, without considering it a reward or a punishment for emotional distress. But I floundered about in it and managed to get on top of things without losing too much of an appetite. Unambiguously I even started a home bakery business at some point selling designer cakes, to make things easier.

I think it’s hilarious and by no way coincidental that with the same irony as in my youth, the universe (or whoever is in charge at the moment) put me in Les PierresHansel and Gretel Candy House with tooth-breaking almost edible hotpink ornaments, preaching publicly about fermentation and a healthier lifestyle, living happily ever after as a really credible paradoxical giant little me. You gotta love it, don’t ya?

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