6-MARK

I felt fat again.

When I was nine, I got addicted to a pastry shop two blocks from home. Whenever I saw the display case, I knew I had to go inside and buy the chocolate bar that Mr. Claude used to make. And, unless I had no money, I’d stay for hours in front of the window watching my addiction make fun of me.

When I did that, usually passed two things: either the pastry felt sorry for me and gave me a little something hidden or I was kicked out of the shop because it was closing time.

That was part of the reason I came to weigh a hundred and twenty kilos.

And look at me now, twenty years later, heading the meeting that was taking place in the boardroom, looking like a perfect idiot at the big chocolate bar that I wanted to eat in just one bite. Just that this particular chocolate bar had bones, skin, was dressed as a woman, and wa