I am a potato.

One of the most unexpected, and I admit, to me, dismaying aspects of aging has been turning into a potato. Becoming a starch for all intents and purposes has caused me some chagrin. Lumpy. Thick. Sticks to the sides of bowls and pans. That’s me.

I wonder if I cause others’ blood sugar to spike. Do I create a high glycemic load? Am I a staple crop? A tuber covered in eyes?

I’m not sure.

Mainly I’m just lumpy.

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