An Open Letter To Carbs

Dear Carbs,

I just wish we could have a more functional relationship. It’s not me, it’s you…all you. Honey wheat, dinner rolls, cake, rye… if you didn’t basically just wad up into a doughy ball after I ingest you and slap yourself to my ass loving you all the time wouldn’t be a struggle. Or, maybe you could work on making my A-cups into B-cups, my ass does not need you the way those things do. I’ve proven my feelings over and over again.

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What can you do for me, Carbs? Help me, help us.

I’m not sure I’ve ever told you, there is a joke within my family regarding just how many rolls I can eat during holiday functions. I’m not even picky, give me 12 store bought rolls that have been sitting out for 5 hours and I’ll eat that shit right up with no regrets. You embarrass me.

I blame you for the tire that appears here and there above my favorite pair of jeans, it’s when that happens I realize the time spent with you needs to be monitored, like supervised visitations. I have to tell everyone who strikes up a conversation with me that I’m watching you, keeping a close eye. I even invite others to get all up in our business…

“Please take these away.

-Me, regarding bread, chips, beer, rice, potatoes…

We just need to find a happy medium. One where you don’t make me feel uncomfortable and gross. I think the word might be, moderation. That’s what we’ll work on, Carbs. Me and you. We got this.

Love & Hate,


C is for Carbs

An honorable mention goes out to my friend, Casey, who also loves carbs.

5 thoughts on “An Open Letter To Carbs

  1. I spent the start of this week out of commission with a stomach bug and nearly all I could even think about keeping down was bland carbs. Despite the awfulness of feeling constantly pukey, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t gloat at least a little over having a legitimate reason to eat nothing but white bread and saltines for 48 hours.



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