I was chuckling to myself as I noticed how my vocabulary has changed since becoming abstinent. Words that I normally used to describe or procure food now have a new meaning.
I enjoy walking on crunchy leaves while wearing a sweater in the crisp autumn air, salty lips from an ocean mist in the summer, and a delicious fire on a cold winter night.
My skin is creamy, my lipstick hues are hot, my new red convertible is spicy and the clothes in my wardrobe are flavorful and colorful now that my body is pint–sized instead of super–sized. I contemplate fresh ideas.
My relationships are rich, especially with my Higher Power. Sweet treats are an unexpected hug or “I love you” text from my teenage children, and a luscious back rub from my husband.
A pick up is a program call, a delivery is a care package to my parents, and I take out the puppy in the early FA morning so my husband can sleep. To die for is an FA meeting when I come home from a place that has none.
My life is full, my belly is not, as I savor the gifts of recovery.