No, Mr. Bond. I expect you to die!

I don’t drink, so I’ve never had a hang over. I don’t take drugs, so I’ve never had a flashback. But I do eat and sometimes when I eat badly, such as last night, I experience the inescapable¬† and vindictive law of cause and effect.

Debauchery wouldn’t be exactly the word I’d use, mostly out of shame, but mental images of fat guys in togas, wearing wreaths, and gorging on food and wine then vomiting to make room for more refuse to stop playing through my mind.

I woke up this morning and it felt like Goldfinger’s laser was aimed at my stomach. Ugh!
Today I’m feeling sluggish and really fat. Meanwhile my friend, David, is running, eating healthy, and lording the loss of six pounds over me. Bas..rd!
No, just kidding, David. Love you like a brother… bas..rd.

I don’t have to be hit with a shovel to know that it’s time to get myself in gear and get back to exercising. Maybe a white-hot signal flare scorching a hole in my gut, but not a shovel.
More to follow.


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