It's no secret that I have a problem with food, and that problem is that I eat way too much of it. I have had people watch me in disgust as I pack away entire sides of beef, panfuls of macaroni, or bucketloads of popcorn just so none of it gets thrown away.
This weekend, we went camping and I ate more than I should have. I brought a block of pepper jack cheese to eat with salami (reduced fat, so it's not entirely bad!) and roasted garlic triscuits. Side note: that shit is delicious.
Anyway, halfway into the cheese I started to feel full. But there was still cut cheese on the plate that no one was eating. So I soldiered on...and on...and on. Berta's mom mentioned that maybe the plate should be taken away from me, but Berta wisely cautioned that it wasn't a good idea, since I have been known to bite when hands get near my food. All told, I ate about a half pound of cheese and who knows how many servings of triscuits and salami. The sad part of that story is that it's not all that uncommon.
Last night, I noticed that I still had half of my footlong Subway sandwich I had bought when we moved last weekend, hidden in the refrigerator door. That would make the sandwich 9 1/2 days old as of today. Janessa said I shouldn't eat it, with worry in her voice. Hector said to throw it away. But after working out at lunch in the 80 degree exercise room for our building, that aged sandwich tasted terrific. Jared would have been proud.
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