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.