Every Thanksgiving, I can look forward to eating my heart out and my stomach becoming as hard as a rock. No, not because all I eat on Thanksgiving is nuts and protein shakes, but because I eat so much my stomache gets all the way to full capacity and has to stretch out all the way. It’s honestly entertaining to poke it and marvel at how it doesn’t move at all.
But thank goodness that not too long after dinner, my stomach returns to normal size, about 3 inches down.
….Or, it used to?
To my complete and utter dismay as an eight-year old, my stomach did not go down. It stayed that way all night. The entire next day. FOR THE NEXT WEEK.
Something was definitely wrong. Maybe I needed to go see the doctor. Maybe… gasp. Maybe I was getting fat.
Not that I did anything to change it. I was way too lazy to actually take action to lose that fat that was constantly hanging over my belt when I bent over too far. So I just decided not to bend over too far. Problem solved.
Obviously, eight-year old me was not the sharpest crayon in the box.
But fast forward a couple years later, and that fateful thanksgiving dinner still hasn’t gone away from my fat deposits. I don’t mind as much, since my stomach no longer resembles an overinflated balloon.
Well, at least it doesn’t regularly.
*side-eyes fries I’m eating while writing this*
Good luck getting rid of that fanny-pack.