two pound taco bell

So, I’ve been trying to lose weight. I know I’m at an unhealthy level and for me to achieve the things I want to achieve, I need to, you know, not die before I’m fifty.

Or eighty.

Ninety, really, ideally.

So, it’s a bit disheartening to take one night off and suddenly jump two pounds, from a couple of tacos and fries supreme.

And a stout. And a rice krispie square. And some peanut butter.

Damn it.

On the weird side, we hit all-you-can-eat sushi two days before that and I only gained half a pound? How does an extra chili cheese burrito translate into two?

Don’t answer that. I know the facts already, and they are thus: I lack willpower and intelligence, making compromise after compromise in favour of short term hunger and/or impulse relief.

I will endeavour to address the willpower issue first.

With kindness, of course, because there’s no use in being a dick, only having one.

Was that sexist? Or meta-commentary on the patriarchy? I think I intended it as a funny, sex-positive, but now it’s a whole thing. I think I’ll just leave it and like modern art, let the viewer decide.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 497 words, comic: Bike #3

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