Food, precious, I still love you truly, madly, deeply
If we assume that this statement is true: That which comes between two true loves is pure evil (and really, what kind of cold-hearted, dirty rotten nogoodnick would think otherwise); we can conclude, then, that stomach flu is pure evil.
Only pure evil can come between me and food — my love, my obsession, my four square meals and seven snacks per day.
Last week, after explaining to a friend that, no, I could not come out to ride horses because I was violently ill, she consoled me by saying that she always thinks of the positive side of being violently ill: losing weight.
First of all, I...
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