M29. I told myself I was done. I told myself I wouldn't binge and load up on calories anymore. That I wouldn't play with my belly and turn myself on anymore. But here I am. Work sucks, and this is the only joy that I find while I'm there.
So I come back.
I go to the snack vending machine. I pack extra snacks. I get soda from the other vending machine. I eat. I drink. I rub my belly. I hide my burps, trying to make sure no one can hear them outside my office.
Sometimes I hide the fact that I'm eating yet again. I doubt I'm very good at it, though. Maybe 165-210 wasn't enough of a gain for my pig brain. Maybe 220. 250? Who knows? Clearly I don't. Especially since my wife looked at me with my potbelly hanging out last night and said I was "looking sexy"...