"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 scurried¹ 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 instructor² 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 butt³ in school. I started wearing a lot of sweatpants and A-line dresses, but this didn't preclude⁴ 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！