For lunch, I pick up a large gazpacho from Bertha's with a side salad. They give me corn chips and balsamic dressing. I eat a little of the chips with my soup and a little of the dressing with my salad. I'm not sure if either is allowed. I have a piece of chocolate my coworker bought for me. It is good. Not great, but it's good. I'm okay with one square.
I smell popcorn. It's not on my menu, something in the microwave popcorn that I don't eat anymore. I have pistachios. I haven't had them in a long time and they are really good. A little addictive even. Probably too much salt, but who cares. I got them in the shells to slow me down. What else do you want from me?
I bought ingredients for this sandwich my husband really wanted me to make for him. We saw it on Sandwich King. When we watched the show last weekend, I thought I could have everything but the bread. I make the fig spread and assemble his sandwich to cook between two pans (panini style). I eat some of the fontina (couldn't find fontinella) cheese with the fig spread. Suddenly, I remember that I can't don't eat dairy anymore. I've eaten a really, really nice (but small) snack of cheese and figs. And now I have nothing to eat for dinner. I'm crying. I drink wine for dinner. Is that bad?
I realize that I need some food so I can take my medications. I have leftover rice with half a can of chili beans. It needs something else but I just don't care anymore. I eat it anyway. My husband sees that I'm upset and tells me it will be okay. He wants to know if I would feel better if he didn't like the sandwich. I tell him no, then I wasted my time and neither of us had a decent meal. He really liked the sandwich. I know it was awesome. For him. I don't feel okay yet.
Eep. I feel for you and love you!
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