The one with the Guilt

I’ve been putting on a pot-belly for quite a while now.

But I’ve become conscious of it since only recently—since I stopped wearing those layers and layers of woolens that did well to conceal my sin.

In order to lose some of that belly fat, I sometimes walk up the stairs—21 floors—of Sansom. No gym membership needed, no Reebok running shoes needed, cheap, environment friendly exercise.

But since there hasn’t been any noticeable reduction on the belly, I decided, last night, to go on a salad diet for a few days.

Today’s lunch went well, I had a light lunch (though not salad). And I thought I was doing good.

By 5pm I was getting hungry again, and started working out where I should be going to get myself a salad box. That’s when these stray thoughts of a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese, or a Grilled Stuft Chicken Burrito started infecting my mind.

By 6pm I got myself a Grilled Stuft Chicken Burrito and Fries.

Which turned out to be kinda stale and tasteless. Taco Bell is unreliable. But I stuffed it down nevertheless.

So to make up for the taste, I bought myself a big bar of Cadbury’s and walked up the 21 floors.

I think I’m gonna have to get used to this belly.


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