My Olive Loaf, Myself.

Every time I visit a farmers market, it gives me hope that I’m on the path to becoming The Person. The Person is that person who wakes up at 5 am every day to do yoga on the porch, the type of person who makes her own clothes and knows exactly how much sodium is in everything, ever, the type of person who’s dresser drawers are neatly organized by color and have little handmade scented sachets inside. Then I buy an olive loaf at the market, and have to literally beg myself not to eat the entire thing in one sitting. And I realize.