Chub in the tub

While I am realistically underweight, the excess grasa that has developed around the old "love handles" and its surrounding extremities has become something steadily bulging out of control.

The heavy amount of drinking (until 6.am.), and eating of generally delicious (aka - fatty) foods in Spain set me up for disaster during my summer in the U.S.A. These activities were relatively inconsequential in Spain because walking and biking were my modes of transportation. The baneful idea of exercise has now changed from the relatively painless, and necessary, simple transportation, to that monster in the hillside... planned exercise. Time must be set solely to ensure the effective breakdown of whatever insanely appetizing foods i've eaten.

Speaking of those, ever since the glorious celebration of our country's independence struck, I decided to accelerate my consumption of hamburgers and hot-dogs. Within that fatal week, I believe records could prove that I ate at least 7 hamburgers and 4 hot-dogs, all accompanied with slaw and cheese. Of course while traveling, fast food fills the newly chubby, yet empty, stomach of yours truly. I even tried to order something less appetizing, such as a grilled chicken breast instead of a fried one, no mayo instead of the normal heaping slabs, and water in place of sugary sodas. No fast food is going to help. I need to turn into a rabbit, or implement "la dieta de la cucaracha".

* I promise that I am not about to attempt to sell you a Tony Little's Gazelle Air Walker.*

I am about to get some headbands and running shoes, and kick this panzon in, well, the stomach..