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It is personally ironic that the first essay for Prose Composition would have to be on Food – a topic I had practically no interest in until just over a year ago. ‘No interest?’ you ask, ‘How is that possible, considering food is needed to live?’. Well not to turn this essay into some kind of Christian confessional, but until about a year ago, I was, technically, anorexic. I use the world ‘technically’, because when ‘anorexia’ is uttered to most individuals, the mind conjures up images of supermodels hunched over toilet bowls, throwing up the foie gras they had at Hugh Hefner’s place last night. Most major dictionaries, however, define the former as ‘bulimia’, and my anorexic case as “as disorder of eating due to loss of appetite”. Let me assure you that the reasons why this came about wasn’t some kind of twisted tale about how my parents used to lock me in the cellar with some water and a turnip, but rather it was more of a self-inflicted problem that had taken place for longer than I can remember. Breakfast was never a staple in my diet considering the fact that most days I used to (and still do) wake up 20 minutes before school started. Lunch was a different matter – I recall in my primary y