Another Filling Thanksglutton

It was quite a Thanksglutton this year. Another interminable ingurtitation of fat-producing fodder and fowl. It mattered little that my stomach was full. I assumed it could grow larger. The stomach will morph to the magnitude of its contents. Right?

I felt a wee empty hole down there. Quickly, I must fill it with another helping of stuffing. Ease it down the wind pipe with a slather of cranberry sauce.

And if I shift my butt in the chair just so, the rattling will create a tiny pocket of air in my gut that can be padded with pumpkin pie. Just a small slice. No, no.... not that small. A little bigger, please.

And now, I take a great big breath - inhale as if I were going to swim the entire pool length in one fell swoop - and if I time it all correctly, if I have finally mastered my eating technique, I could cram down a slice of pecan pie on the exhale. It'll be settled in my stomach before I even need to take another breath.

Today is finally Monday after a long-glorious weekend. The eating is over. The post-Turkey resolution has kicked in. Must get in shape for the Christmas eating season, which is just around the corner. I can practically smell the gingerbread cookies baking in the oven.

I need to go for a run. A swim. A long, hilly bike ride. I need to lift and build the muscle. To crunch until I my abs beg for mercy (or until I can actually feel some semblance of abs somewhere under there). But, alas, I have the flu. Fever. Periodic chills. Sweats. Overstuffed nose. I am delirious in a post-NyQuil haze. Echinacea is oozing out my pores.

'Tis the season.
[sniff][sniff][achoo!]