Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Not-So-Starvin Marvin (Or, Gut Feeling)

I've been hellbent on getting back into shape after the continual suckerpunch that has been the holiday season/the post-holiday season/the holy-shit-it's-so-cold Winter weather/the usual if-there's-food-up-in-here-I'm-housing-it-everyday pattern of my life. After weeks of semi-dieting (blech) and compulsive gym-going (requisite behavior for my neighborhood), some things have moved back into position, while others are decidedly stubborn.

Namely, that giddy circular tumor spooning my middle section known only as Monsieur Marvin Mangut.

Used to be that such a thing would appear sometimes and quickly vanish once I set my mind (and body) to it...being my age, that mangut is a persistent and codependent motherfucker. He's not going anywhere, no matter what I say or think or feel or do or eat or crunch or crap out.

He's happy as a pig in shit...unfortunately, that shit happens to be all of the gorgeous processed and unprocessed and sugary and fatty and fried and salty and sweet and buttery and tasty and cakey and flaky and gooey and semi-sweet and bittersweet and confectionery and toasted and toasty and warm and cool and frozen and sour and citrusy and juicy and dark and milky and generally excellent things that have passed my lips since...well...ever.

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