It's so hard to just put down the fork.
Even though I shared my entree. Even though I only consumed one fish taco. Even though I refused dessert and drank mostly water (okay, okay, I had a few sips of each of the four beers in my sister's beer flight). Even though I left two untouched jalepeno poppers on the plate (I lost track of how many I actually popped). I still sit here with the waistband of my sweatpants rolled down so that my extended stomach can protrude in peace. My eyelids are heavy no doubt from an overdose of MSG. I'm fighting the food coma with every ounce of energy I can muster, but I fear I'm losing.
Ugh. I do not feel well. I feel like I should walk around the block, but my fingers walking over this keyboard will have to suffice.
I did put down the fork
It was just too late.
I did it again.