I wandered the aisles of the grocery store for 3 hours today. I couldn’t find anything I want. It’s a hard to menu plan a last supper.
I never understood people who knew exactly what they’d eat if they knew it was their last meal. There is too much good food in this world. What I prefer at any given moment in time depends on my mood, but I have no idea what I will be in the mood for when I am going to die.
Will I be ravenous, or will I lose my appetite? Will I want sweet or salty or savory? Will I want something fancy or basic comfort food?
Choosing a last meal is a lot of pressure.
I’ve been having a whole month of last suppers anyway. Food has been my primary indulgence. I’ve been eating everything I love.
Pizza. Juicy hamburgers. French fries. Steak. Macaroni and cheese (both the fancy, restaurant Stilton kind and the orange powder in a box kind — The latter has always been a guilty pleasure). Ice cream. Brownies. Cookies. Cake. Cheesecake. Brie. Lots of brie. Grilled cheese. More french fries. My favorite chicken wings. Pho. Green curry. Panang curry. Indian curry. Sushi. Nachos. Chocolate. Pancakes. Bacon. Bratwurst. Donuts. Gummy bears.
Preparing to die has been a lot like being pregnant.
I’m running out of favorite things to eat, and I’m getting fat. I guess it doesn’t matter, except most of my clothes are too tight.
I still haven’t picked out what I should wear either. I feel like I should care about these details more than I do.
What happens next? Read the next part of the story here.
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