The tale of the waffles @grandmamascafe

Tale teller: @the_ink_decoction

If I were to define my life in a sentence, I wouldn’t be able to. Why? Let me tell you why… because I am a big, big woman, and a sentence will not be able to explain my big beautiful existence. I have always been called names. There was a time when I was more likely to respond to ‘fatso’ than my own name. I tried to change people’s opinions by changing my body but there was no magical transition in it. I starved, went to doctors, ran on treadmills in overpriced gymnasiums and even wore the slimming sauna steam belt, which guaranteed weight loss or your money back. I never got the money back.
One day I was at grandmama’s cafe and I saw these waffles making way to the nearby table. Like always, I pretended they didn’t exist. I was alone, and I could see them. I hadn’t eaten anything that day. In a moment of impulse I called out to the waiter and ordered them. What followed was the pendulum that swung me from hope to despair and kept me there, until my waffles arrived. I looked at them. They stood there, waiting for me. In a flash they were in my mouth, and in another flash they were gone. In that moment something happened. I was happy.
No one had done that to me for a long, long time. Was this magic? Was this waffle a charm? Or were people’s opinions a curse?
From that day to this day my body hasn’t changed much, nor have people’s opinions. But something has changed. I am a big, beautiful, happy woman, who eats her full. I always treat people who’ve been hit by the opinion curse, to these waffles. I believe in their magic.

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