Letter to my love affair

I’ve been holding on for quite a while, but I realise now that the time has come; I must confess

I’ve been holding on for quite a while, but I realise now that the time has come; I must confess this love affair, and then end it.

Let me say first and foremost that the times we have shared have been some of the greatest moments in my life. You’ve opened my eyes, put me at ease, and given me the strength to feel comfortable with myself. However, I cannot continue to lead this double life. I feel like I am betraying my loved ones and that is incomprehensible.

It’s time we end things. Bread, it’s over.

Yes, bread, loving you has been my greatest weakness. First it was your soft, fluffy white goodness, but over time I have found I am unable to resist the temptations you bring with the addition of seeds, grains, sour dough and even the darkness of rye. I feel so wicked just thinking about you, bread.

I buy a little loaf of you and hide you in the pantry so my husband doesn’t see. He’d be utterly disappointed if he knew I sneak into the cupboard, closing the door behind me, to quietly open the plastic packaging that contains you and steal a single slice. That moistness, that touch of sourness, those earthy flavours. You’re so light and delightful and the joy I get from eating you is similar to the excitement of a burgeoning relationship.

I know you have become my ‘go-to’ whenever I’m feeling blue. You comfort me in my time of need, but I feel instantly guilty that I’ve spent time with you at all.

I should have slipped into my running shoes and headed out the door for a nice long walk, but instead I find I’m lathering you in butter and drowning you in honey.

Of course I blame my mother. She introduced us, though I doubt even she could have guessed just how much you would consume me.

But enough is enough. You’ve changed, and I don’t like it.

Once you used to represent all that was good in my world. You were natural and honest. Now you seem to be full of nasty preservatives that lead you to grow fluff and fuzz in places I don’t want to put near my mouth. You’ve been lying to me in the same way I’ve been lying to my loved ones. It’s a toxic relationship we have formed here, bread and I need to let you go.

My heart and my health will thank me.


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