All great stories start with "there was a time," and that is not why I began this story with it because this is not a great story. It is a sad one, but not a great one.
There was a time when I was a 79 lb. ten-year-old who could eat whatever I wanted with no fear of disease, sickness, or weight gain. There WAS a time. Now here I am twelve years, sixty-ish pounds, and two ER visits later and now I can't even have a coffee with French vanilla and a waffle without crashing. Yes, it is a sad story. I like to think I take relatively good care of myself. I always have a water bottle with me. However, the responsibility of cooking for myself comes with challenges, and habits become sporadic.
Now I have to WATCH what I eat. I always thought that's what old people do. Not me. I'm in college, my body's invincible, right? This is no fun.