During a crisis of conscience this morning I grabbed a package of Pop Tarts and walked back and forth to the counter several times until it occurred to me that I looked less like a guy battling the fat kid inside him and more like a meth head.
Pop Tarts re-shelved.
Crisis averted.
Besides, I need to save my calories for some fat kid Olympics viewing tonight where I will inevitably break down and emotionally eat over that fateful choice years ago to stop doing gymnastics so I could do a play.
-TFKIM
