Excerpted from Howard’s new memoirFEAST: True Love In and Out of the Kitchen.
We find cheap flights.
It will be an adventure.
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As soon as I get off the airplane in Lisbon, something feels off.
Our hugs are perfunctory.
These were the non-ribbon-wearing girls, the smart girls, the interesting girls.
Courtesy of Amazon
These were the girls who understood me.
Im secretly excited for them to see my new body, my new life.
We do not have a fun time.
We fight about directions to the hostel.
We fight about whether to see an old castle or a sculpture museum or both or neither.
We fight about where to go for dinner.
You look really skinny, Steph says, only once.
Were unpacking our toiletries in the hostel in Lisbon and her forehead scrunches in disapproval.
Like a different person.
Im still me, I tell her in defense.
Ive been doing Pilates.
I wonder if shes jealous, but she seems only repelled, as if Ive become hideous.
I realize I want her approval, her eyes on me in the first bikini I have ever worn.
Its as blue as the ocean past the cliffs of the Praia do Castelo.
I want her to see me.
I want her love.
They want to talk about silk scarves and messy roommates.
My weight seems the least of what has changed between us.
I eat, but I know Im not eating like a normal person.
But now it feels like a cruel joke I played on myself.
In the hostel mirror, my thighs pucker and ooze.
The Atlantic rushes up to my ankles, the beach smells of wind and sardines.
My loneliness feels as wide as its endless expanse.
We order a half dozen for us to share.
I want to try them, but I cant.
The espresso is bitter and black.
Steph and Amandas conversation may as well be in Portuguese.
I examine the custard, yellow as sunflowers, the gilded glow of the pastry that surrounds it.
I watch them eat.
Youre not going to have any, are you?
Amanda accuses, and I take a small bite to prove her wrong.
Butter, egg, and sugar.
Theyre delicious, I tell Amanda and Steph, but theyre only looking at each other.
I want to eat the pasteis de nata and I dont want to eat the pasteis de nata.
Either way, I will let myself down.
How is a small plate of pastries so much bigger than me?
FromFEAST: True Love In and Out of the Kitchenby Hannah Howard.
