Still Losing The Battle Of The Bulge

So on Friday, because I couldn't visit and fuck ***u**, I had lunch at a fancy place before going to my backup plan, ***e*, and getting a handjob from her.  The lunch was at Sidebar at Surdyk's, the somewhat-famous liquor store in Nordeast.  What came recommended (from the one website I was able to see as my "research") was the first dish I bought, the tartare.  But I thought I could eat a little more, and I am now on a Twin Cities burger group on Facebook, so I would try their burger.

My God, it's a fantastic damn burger.  Get it.  Get it now.  But the fries, while incredibly good as well, became my Waterloo.  If I didn't have that tartare, I think I could have polished off that meal without a problem.  But because it was my second course, I started having trouble finishing about halfway through my fries.  (What also quickly became an obstacle was how greasy the fries were.  The grease is what makes the fries so fantastic, but it's the thing that generates that pit in my stomach that finally makes me stop eating.)  I finished, but I felt, and was, fat the rest of the day.

And I still feel that way.  I just so happened to wake up this morning at a quarter to 9, and I took the opportunity to work out this morning.  I feel good exercising -- it makes me less inclined to work out tomorrow night, and this is a week where I am in The Fourth Department where I don't know if I'll even have the time to exercise -- but I still feel, and am, fat.  Dammit.