MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH RICE

Once upon a time, rice was life to me. It was a source of happiness. A joy to have any time of the day. A perfect pair for my favorite longganisa and egg combo. Every grains matter. It's a farmer's hard work that can make you feel loved. It was everything to a lot of people, including me. The aroma of cooking rice travels around and envelops you with great intensity. It's one of those things that is so basic, you can actually mess it up when you don't pay much attention. The preparation can be considered an art form because you actually need years and years of practice to get it right.

I love rice and that is the truth, but sometimes Love is not enough. I have to give it up. It's becoming a toxic relationship. Making me a slave of it. Craving it, even if I should be doing other things like sleeping. It drives me mad sometimes for feeling like I wasn't having enough. So, I end up having more than enough. It fills me up in the beginning, but I always regret it afterward because my tummy can't process it correctly. It was too much. I have to end it because it no longer makes me happy. I felt heavy and cranky. 

Today, As I write this, It's the second time I had it this month and I feel so good. I no longer crave it or want it every meal. I learned to live without it and I'm so proud. Slowly, I noticed that I was feeling lighter. The numbers are not lying and that made my day. 

Giving up rice is not easy but it's worth a shot.