[1]My father made his way through life eating carbs. He began each morning with a slice of buttered rye toast that was cut in half diagonally by my mother and placed in the middle of a napkin on top of the plate. He had a sandwich for lunch, except on the weekends, when he would eat a piece of layer cake instead. After dinner, he’d help himself to a few scoops of chocolate ice cream. My Dad was slim and graceful, and weighed the same at 80 as he did in his youthful army days. It is from him that I inherited a love of all variations of spaghetti, potatoes, bread and cookies. And the icing on the cake? I got his skinny genes.
Photo via things organized neatly [2]