– one large cup of coffee, brewed dark and strong, then sweetened until it was as smooth and creamy as an inner thigh.
– a second cup of coffee, closer in tone to the sun-burnished face of a Namibian fashion model.
– a scone, fluffier than a cloud, slathered in butter, which tasted of baby laughter and a slow sunrise.
– One large green juice, the colour of life and American money, that sent nutrients speeding through my veins like streams flowing into the sea.
-A tupperware bowl of sweet boiled potato and a prawn and tomato stew, handmade with care by my colleague: every bite tasted like friendship and unhurried truths.
-An enormous slice of birthday cake- salted caramel, from Salt Lagos– because I deserved it and it had earned my respect.
-One slice of Debonairs triple decker pizza- three layers of a deliciously bad decision. I felt recklesss and free as I threw each bite down my gullet; like a dolphin frolicking along the waves of irresponsibility.
-Finally, a cup of green tea;pale, thin and unsweetened, emitting only the faintest aroma of pomegranate, to remind me of who I am and what my scale tells me. It smelled like no regrets, and tasted like renewed determination. Tomorrow, the diet begins again.