A Love Affair

I have a love affair.

with food.

I don't care who knows.

Not only do I enjoy the taste of it, but I enjoy the feel of it.

I love to smear it all across my face, to rub it in my hair, to leave some behind in my ears.

And don't you dare think I'll eat baby food. That's for amateurs whose palets have yet to develop.

Mine is fully developed.

When I see peanut butter and jelly, I convulse. I thrust my body forward to get even an inch closer to this delicacy.

Grapes, ahh, grapes grab me. They draw me in with their vibrant green and their juicy plumpness.

I shovel broccoli in my mouth as if it were my last meal.

I'll devour a pizza the size of my face.

And I make drinking milk look like a marathon runner guzzling Powerade after his 26.2 mile journey.

Needless to say, my ability to clean my plate(and my cup) puts my brother and sister to shame.

And even their threats won't stop this love affair. Nope. I've yet to find a piece of food that I won't eat. And until that happens, I'll be cleaning my plate and all the while earning those bonus points to cash in for when that day comes.