So tonight was the second night in a row that I had Subway for dinner. Yesterday I gestured that I wanted the small one because my inability to speak Portuguese left me a bumbling pointer of sandwich fixings. Tonight, I encountered an employee who offered his English and I used it as an opportunity to order a f–I couldn’t say footlong because of the metric system–30 cm long sandwich. I felt like such a fatty. But yesterday’s 15cm left me hungrily eating a stale piece of bread on a dark bus at midnight, leftover from my mustard sandwiches the night before.

Too bad I still have that damn jingle in my head.