I am not exaggerating when I say that for years I ate three slices of fake Canadian bacon nearly every day for breakfast. Years. And then one day I grew tired of fake Canadian bacon and cast it aside like it meant nothing to me.
After that I played the field for a little while, finally settling down this past fall with peanut butter toast. Almost every morning this winter I've gotten out of bed, toasted a piece of O'Bread whole wheat, spread it with Teddie all natural peanut butter, and eaten it while I waited for the water to boil for my tea.
We've had a good thing going, me and peanut butter toast, and I really am a one-breakfast woman. But lately I've been fantasizing about other breakfasts: berries and Greek yogurt, a soft-boiled egg eaten eaten right out of the shell with a tiny spoon, even wheatberries and scallions.
Things are not over between us yet; I'll probably string old peanut butter toast along until the strawberries are in season, but the writing is on the wall: We're growing apart and I want to start eating other breakfasts. I hope we can still be friends.