My wife and I took a week and went back to visit my ancestral homelands, and man, did we eat the fuck out of just about everything that came in front of us!
I think it started when we visited my old college buddy in metro-Albany and she took us to this place she likes, the New World Bistro & Bar. It was good, it was paid for, and under duress (not really) we got desert. Then, the next day, as a treat for my friend, we went to Denny’s where, in the spirit of the trip. I got something like the cinnamon roll pancakes, which were exactly what you’d expect.
And by that point, we were off– desert after almost every meal, drinks on top of drinks (at least as far as drinking goes, I couldn’t keep up with my brother-in-law, so I don’t feel so bad about that). It got to a point, halfway through the trip, where I had to tell myself I wouldn’t be eating like this from now on, that it was only temporary.
It’s not like it’s the end of the world, this binge eating. But it was weird, at least for me, to be eating this much, past the point of the simple sensual pleasure of it. I don’t mean to make too much of this, but I don’t think a single meal I ate was all that glorious, or one I’d have again. Instead, it was just the holiday-making bacchanalia of it, this weird moment of recognition that when you get to a certain age, this is what indulgence is, now. Eat a shit ton, and put it on the credit card.
Thank god, I’m back home now, back at the gym, trying to lost the weight I packed on over those seven days.
Unamusing Makayla 
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