In another sign that I'm not the young man I was twenty years ago, ... yesterday (Thursday) at work we had a going-away lunch for someone from the team who took another job. The head of the team brought in pizza. A local joint, had them once before, greasy and messy and therefore awesome.
I forgot, however, how big one of their large pizzas was. But hey, great -- big food and free! So I took one and then another and then a third and whoa, I feel something aw heck never mind and then wait ... I should just sit and talk to people -- OK, I'm good and then a fourth and then my hour was over and I can't get up and my stomach is going to burst through my pants and even pop a button but hey at least I think I can take a dump now. (And I did.)
When I was 18, and maybe even 25, four supersized slices of pizza was no problem. Now, big problem. And still, in my heart of hearts, I feel like I'm 25. I still feel like I can eat so much pizza and not have it affect my waistline, let alone my day. I still feel it's my obligation to eat as much pizza as I can. Those are delusions now, but I still cannot face them.
Wow, to have such a profound and morbid epiphany over a friggin' pizza party.
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