Butterball.

I love pizza.

Thin, thick, small, large, I love it. Too much, maybe. But then, doesn't pretty much everyone? Even those annoying vegetarians can at least find SOMETHING to go on those heavenly pies.

Today I enjoyed a day off... my first in weeks, and possibly my last for weeks to come, at least until Thanksgiving. So, this evening, the house being barren of any living soul but me and the blasted cat, I indulged myself and ordered what is now a bit of forbidden fruit to share with the blessed peace and quiet. I stopped eating when the large disc was half gone.

Man, I love the stuff. I'm excited that the other half is waiting on the counter to be enjoyed as breakfast. At least a slice, anyway.

The problem is that I know I'm going to have to be a good boy for a couple of days, which is no fun at all. I don't enjoy eating 'right'. I don't enjoy vegetables. I find escape and (at least temporary) relief of stress through food. Others forget food when uptight... I dwell on it.

But, no, I have to be responsible for a bit after tonight and fight the genetic code at work inside my skin. Otherwise, I'll wind up again looking like the butterball in the picture above.