Dogs, dogs and more dogs. Dead dogs. Dogs walked to their death, tails wagging because it's attention and they don't know what's waiting, except they do, they can smell it, can't they? Dogs without names, only faces, eyes, open, trusting, expectant.
Three years ago yesterday, I had the Lap-Band procedure done. In the following months, I lost a bunch of weight and got to the point where I couldn't even keep water down. I wound up in the emergency room getting the whole damn thing unfilled.
Then we moved to Missouri for four months and I ate like a bitch. I gained the weight back, and then some.
I'm back on the train.
I find myself writing really fast and vaguely about all this, because it's hard to talk about. I hope to be able to talk about it more in the future.
I'm a writer and storyteller in Berkeley, CA. If you're wondering where that is, follow the smell of patchouli and skunkweed. There you'll find me with my kickass husband, gorgeous little boy, and manic Lab-Australian Shepherd mix pups. I'm represented by Miriam Altshuler of DeFiore & Co., but of course, my views are my own.