gut rot

I swear I look 5 months pregnant right now. My gut is this huge bloated thing just sticking out, trying to get in the way of my hands as I type this post on my laptop (which is, well, sitting on my lap of course). I think it's still growing, eventually getting so big as to flop over onto the keyboard. I'm going to have to push the blubber off to the side so as to continue this post. Ugh. It's a living thing, an entitity in of itself. And right now it's this horrible fire-breathing monster trying to ruin my life. See, it's punishing me for my earlier food digressions at card blub, I mean club. Make it stop! I'm sorry I had that slice of cheesecake when I was already full, and that extra bowl of snack mix during that last hand - that had "mistake" written all over it. I won't even get into the nuts. I knew from the get-go what those would do to me later. But did I stop? Did I at any time have any control over myself? Hell no! My only goal when faced with such an appetizing array of goodies was to see how much I could possibly fit into my stomach without puking. I have no control over myself when it comes to food. I go right up to the line between "full" and "so stuffed I might vomit." So now here I am, miserable once again from eating way too much. Apparently I don't learn the lesson that my gut tries to teach me everytime this happens.