May 26, 2011 by Amy
Hot diggety dog
Hooooo boy.
I took one for the team today.
I went to Zoe’s school and ate a hot dog lunch to make up for her school picnic being rained out yesterday.
I knew I was in trouble when I plopped my fat ass onto a tiny chair and bellied up to a table a foot and a half off the ground, and Ms. Sherese asked, “You ate lunch before you came, right?” I responded negatively, she wrinkled up her nose, gingerly handed me a hot dog and said, “Oh. Um…well…oh.” Piece by piece, I received the rest of my lunch from the teachers.
One questionably-meated hot dog, a bag of Lays (and not Baked Lays, grrr), and two Oreo cookies (and not Reduced Fat Oreos) later, and I was already queasy.
I realized that I had a triple whammy, a trifecta of suckitude, on my hands:
- The “meal” was not enough to fill me up for lunch.
- It was, however, what my caloric intake should be for the next week. Which meant I couldn’t stop somewhere and get something else to eat. Ever.
- My vaunted stomach-of-steel (“I can eat/drink anything and never get sick!”) is either severely compromised by years of eating/drinking anything or is just tired of the fight. Burble. Grumble. Pfffffffft.
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