“I just want to be happy.” he said. The sentence stopped me in my tracks as I was taking photos of dishes at Flower Child in Santa Monica. It was a hard sentence to hear from anyone, but coming from an older man discussing his divorce, it struck a chord. I have no real understanding
I know that I’m fat on the inside, and kind of on the outside too. But last week, my fatness reached a new level as I encountered my own fat sense. It’s like a Spidey sense, but it doesn’t have a cool costume or web slinging abilities. Instead, it’s an ability to know that something