I’ve made a decision. It’s a pretty huge one. I’m still trying to process it, actually, because my brain has been stuck in this same rut for so long that it doesn’t know how to think in another way. In some ways, I feel like I’m cutting off my right arm but it makes me feel so free that I wonder how I survived so long with all that extra burden.
But you know what they say: when you make life-altering decisions, the best way to stick with them is to announce them. Make them real. Give yourself some accountability. So here goes.
After years – and I mean YEARS – of overburdened struggle, blood, sweat, and tears, mounds of anxiety and effort doing my utmost to eat a slice of pie in such a way that the crust and the filling ratio is perfect with every bite, I have finally decided: I’m going to start cutting the edge crust off.
I’m sorry, edge crust. You clearly serve a purpose. It’s not that I don’t like you; you just throw off the entire balance of the pie. I either have to eat 3-4 bites with almost no filling, or I have to combine bits of you with bites of the main body of the pie and I’m just over it. It isn’t worth it anymore. I don’t need the extra calories and, frankly, you just make all the other bites worse.
So I’m cutting you off. Throwing you in the trash along with all my guilt about starving kids in China and “waste not want not” quotes. From now on, I will be enjoying my pie from bite 1 all the way to the end. I’ll be honest, I likely won’t even stare at you longingly anymore. You might end up getting fed to the dogs. It’s hard to accept, but it’s the way it must be.
And so my new edge-crust-less life begins. Wish me luck for I am unsure how life will proceed from here. I’ve never done anything like this before. I can only hope that eliminating this thorn from my side will bring me and pie even closer together.