Cream, Sugar, and Shame

minor trigger warning: This piece discusses methods of eating restriction at length.

When my mother did laundry, she’d sit on the hallway floor in front of our wooden toy-box hamper. A steaming cup of coffee always rested at her knee, light and sweet, with half-and-half and at least two spoonfuls of sugar.

One day she’d get up to answer a call on the house phone, only to return to an empty mug…

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Where food & feelings converge // Full time writer & cook with the agricultural advantage in Amish country.

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Judy Russ

Judy Russ

Where food & feelings converge // Full time writer & cook with the agricultural advantage in Amish country.

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