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Descriptive Essay On Pizza

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Half spinach. Half anchovies. Sitting on the countertops of Dominos at my dad’s work, I pondered how many combinations of halves people could make with pizzas. Lining the walls, there were containers filled with an array of different toppings ranging from pineapples to pepperonis. While my dad kneaded the dough, I listened to him tell me that “pizza can be made it however you want,” which incentivized me think of all the possible combinations of pizza- mushrooms and sausage, bell peppers and onions, or maybe even jalapenos and ham. Back then, I use to think my dad had the best job in the world, until at school, I was handed free cardboard pizza lunch while other kids’ parents packed them homemade, hot lunches in thermoses. As my eyes darted between my lunch and my friends’, I compared their packed juice boxes and sliced fruit to my flimsy tray and pizza. I was jealous and wanted to be like them. During those moments, I could not help but feel like my life paralleled that soggy pizza on the top of my tray. I since longed for the pizzas I made with my dad. While some of my peers were handed a recipe for life, I was left blindsided not knowing how to create my personal pizza. I wanted to try new combinations, but I realized people were more inclined to order simple pies. As a result, I became less adventurous and subdued to societal norms of pizza. I ordered pepperoni and cheese pizzas at parties to please the majority that attended. I began depending on others to shape my

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