Grease Is The Word... Ugh...

I've been trying to eat better lately, more healthy stuff, more veggies and less sweets. Trying to be good. But every so often you just gotta have a burger.
   Yesterday I went to a local place where you can get a great burger with your choice of a lot of different toppings, even specialty mayonnaise. You can also get sweet potato fries, regular fries, and onion ring things all on one plate. So that's what I got. And a 1/3 pound burger with Gruyere cheese, grilled onions, pickles, and guacamole. With pesto on the side. Made that one up myself. And it was goooooood... mmm - mmm.
   Then I went home.
   Climbing the stairs - because the elevator STILL isn't fixed - I felt the bloat. I had a little food baby in my tummy and it was kicking up a storm.
   I fumbled with my keys as the lethargy set in. I managed to get through the door before my eyes closed. The couch called to me and I answered. But I couldn't fall asleep. My food baby was tossing and turning, determined not only to keep me awake but to make me sorry I'd ever set foot in the restaurant. As I lay there in abject misery, paying for my twenty minutes of indulgence with hours of regret, I realized things had changed.
   I am worthless and weak. Time was I could eat two Big Macs with fries and a big-ass Coke, then do five hours of back-breaking work outside and never feel a thing. Now I eat a great non-fast-food burger with fresh fries and I'm laid out like Sonny Liston after he dared to face off against Muhammad Ali.*
   What a wimp.
   Next thing you know I'll start liking TV shows about high school glee clubs, and I'll probably start going to Broadway musicals. Hey, wait a second...


* this way-back machine moment brought to you by the Howard Cosell Memorial Sports Reference Foundation.