This is me in fourth grade.
I know it is fourth grade because of the white mock turtleneck I am wearing, and the turquoise earrings. And also because fourth grade was the year in which I sat three feet in front of that just-off-frame snake pit (okay, glass aquarium hosting two six-foot-long boa constrictors). I also know it is fourth grade because I remember this picture being taken — by my teacher, Mr. Anderson.
Are you trying to figure out what I have lodged in my gob? It’s hard to tell, isn’t it?
Good eaters like me, we leave no trace — leave no bite unspoken for. No crumb un-loved. What I have in my mouth is a birthday cupcake in its entirety. There, you see it now — the cool tuft of frosting poised ever-so-delicately upon my tongue, the discarded cupcake wrapper lying prostrate at 5 o’clock on the table before me.
When I used to eat cupcakes, I ate them in one bite (and sometimes in front of snake pits). This is the type of person that I am. The type of person that makes things disappear.
I’m Emily. It’s nice to meet you.