I was just invited to a potluck at a yoga center. Can you imagine an event involving food more fraught with stress? All the special diets - vegan, all the various version of vegetarianism (now that's the way to alliterate!), gluten-free, GMO free, and on and on - some masquerading as eating disorders and some ... with a lot more discipline than me.
Anyway, even thinking of what I would bring fills me with so much fear and anxiety that I couldn't even imagine going. And - even if I somehow managed to figure out what to bring - I'd be too nervous to eat. All that judgement and "observing."
Every time I lifted my hand to my mouth, I'd just brace myself for the description of what is in my mouth. And, while I can't talk due to chewing, I'll hear a litany of either what I'm eating or shouldn't eat and how it would regulate or de-regulate or otherwise affect someone's bowel movements...just as I'm about to swallow.
Christ! I'd covertly slip something into my bra and run into the bathroom to eat it. Who am I kidding? I'm such a liar. I would eat a burrito in my car - in another parking lot - before walking in
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