Cheese soufflé

I just now ate six eggs and two blocks of cheese.

But only one raspberry. Those things are awful. Old. Frozen. The rest were tossed. 

I smelled the soufflé when it was cooking and that told me it's done. Then I really smelled it hard and that told me it's overdone. I opened the oven door and the soufflé had already collapsed.

I never did care much for foam-food. That's why I don't make many soufflés. But collapsed soufflés are more compressed and that is better. I loved eating this. It disappeared in my mouth without stuffing my estómago. I kept going and going and the flavorful near-foam kept passing effortlessly through my mouth over my tongue down my esophagus and into my stomach like feathers that had fallen from above and landed one-by-one in a barren desert landscape and disappeared. 

I am a snake that ate six eggs and doesn't feel any different, except satisfied.

I weighed myself yesterday, 153 lbs. 

This is three pounds heavier than my imagined ideal weight when I was 21 years-of-age to age sixty-four. When my homeostasis weight is 148 lbs. 

See, I wanted to be 6 feet tall and 150 pounds weight. Nice round numbers in these two arbitrary numbering systems. Silly, I know that, but sometimes I'm silly. 

But I am looser now than then. Back then I was tight as a catapult. Now my body is loose. Although slimmed down drastically, the remaining weight has some measure of fat. My body previous to kidney failure had near zero fat. This tells me my musculature has diminished discouragingly. I cannot do all the things that I did.