Belching is the new Runner's High

I loathe invites to six-course dinners. It's not the invite so much as the prep work in anticipation of such an event with which I have the problem. The day begins with waking up, which is very taxing in and of itself - then I must search for clean gym clothes, or the cleanest dirty gear in the pile.

Then there are the goals I must set before arriving at the gym. Such as, don't puke, don't trip, and scan the cardio room for signs of life before employing my diaphragm with the grandest burp of all. Hey, excreting air from my gut is my euphoria while running. I don't know anything about that runner's high folks talk about. The moment grape juice hit my palate - runner's high took a backseat and those doors are locked.

As you have detected, if I am to indulge in a multi-course gourmet meal - I must burn a gazillion calories which takes a lifetime on the treadmill. And then post workout, I can only consume water, an apple and any particles of food that drop from my teeth while flossing. If you just lost your appetite, then all I can say to you is, "You're welcome." You do realize anorexia is for weight loss, and Bulimia is solely for maintenance, right? Once again, Big Red's prep is a little different. You'll find her in the horizontal position with a gaggle of women in some sweat shop next to a burger joint.

(To the left is BFF's sister, Big Red, BFF and Moi.)

So this fabulous dinner will be hosted at our BFF's McMansion. She has the legs of a gazelle, and on any given day is typically a size 4. However she's recently extracted a bun from her oven. Yeah, whatever, congrats she now has baby boy. BTW I've decided there are enough of this particular gender in the world. I move we place a moratorium on birthing boys until they figure how to treat the females who are currently inhabiting the earth.

Anyway, Big Red and I have never been more excited to be in "Not a Size 4 Anymore's" presence. What? Yeah I said it. But remember I write this blog to make ME feel better. And yes I do still have friends. I can count them all on four fingers. And to be fair, we only have a small window of opportunity to wallow in her misery, because BFF has some sort of magical baby fat melting powers I've never understood. Dinner blog coming next. And with it - you will see I'm not the only person lacking in the TACT department.


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