我是一名苗条的美食作家

"If you work in a bakery," a woman in the back row hollered, "why are you so thin?"

"你说你在面包店上班，"后排的一位女士喊道，"但你为什么这么瘦？"

Back then, I did work in a bakery, a pie shop in North Carolina. My shifts started in the middle of the night, when roaches scurried along the sidewalk and the only other people awake were on the radio across the sea. I also worked as a recipe developer, a restaurant critic, and, every so often, a culinary instructor to home cooks.

那个时候，我的确在面包店（北卡罗来纳州的一家饼铺）工作。我的工作时间是半夜--那时候，蟑螂在人行道上匆匆爬过，海对面的电台工作者和我一样醒着。我还干过食谱开发专员和餐馆评论家的工作，有时候还为家庭厨师进行烹饪指导。

I wanted to ask the woman in the back row questions. But instead I answered her question, sort of: "I run marathons."

我原想反问后排的那位女士一些问题，但我没有那么做，而是回答了她的问题，差不多说了句："因为我跑马拉松。"

That felt more appropriate than getting into it. Than saying, I haven't felt thin since the seventh grade when one of my friends - you know seventh grade friends - whispered behind me in the hallway that I had the biggest butt in school. I started wearing a lot of sweatpants and A-line dresses, but this didn't preclude many a boyfriend and friend and co-worker from sharing "feedback" on my proportions.

我感觉这样更合适。其实七年级时，我的一位朋友--你懂的，七年级的朋友--在走廊里压低声音说我的屁股是全校最大的，自那以后我就没觉得自己瘦过。我开始穿运动裤和A字裙，但这并不妨碍我的众多前男朋友、朋友和同事对我的体型'评头品足'，

I could have told the woman in the back row that my torso is thin. I could have told her that in college I used to weigh myself twice a day, used to do Food-Free Mondays until my friend, who used to be anorexic, suggested I go to therapy and I did, and the therapist, who also used to be anorexic, spent our first and last session talking about how she's worn the same pants size for a decade. I could have told her that I chucked that scale years ago. That I haven't bought one since. That "thin" isn't a compliment.

我本可以告诉后排的那位女士：对，我的确很瘦。我本可以告诉她：上大学那会儿，在朋友（曾患厌食症）建议我做治疗前，我每天会称2次体重，周一会不吃东西。后来，我听从朋友的建议做了治疗，那位治疗师也曾患厌食症，在第一次和最后一次的治疗过程中，她讲述了自己十年来都穿相同尺寸裤子的经历。

But all I said was: "I run marathons."

但我只说了一句："因为我跑马拉松。"

I don't work at a bakery anymore. "Do you miss it?" a friend asked me over a night dinner, which wouldn't have been possible with the bakery, which made answering easy: "No."

我没有再去面包店工作了。"你怀念吗？"共进晚餐时一位朋友问道，怀念面包店是不大可能的，所以我轻松回了句："不怀念。"

I don't miss it. Not really. Not the hours: falling asleep to the sun, waking up to the moon. Now, I work a sort-of 9-to-5, writing about food. But I still get up in the dark because old habits die hard. Or something like that.

我不怀念面包店。但也不尽然。我怀念那些时辰：伴着日出而睡，伴着月亮而醒。现在，我过着朝九晚五的生活，写一些有关食物的文章。但我仍在天黑时起床，毕竟积习难改嘛！