The Sympathy Belly

Know what makes getting turned down from yet another job better?
Candy Bars.

Unfortunately, I don't have any change to hit up the vending machine, so my candy bender is not to be.

I'm trying to set up a couple of internships this summer (instead of working), at different places around town. I'm very interested in cooking and improving my skills, and I would love to be able to head to a confectionery, or coffee shop, or home made wine shop (ahem) once a week to learn whatever there is to learn. And to take back what I learned and make my friends fat.

Which, by the way, is the inspiration for today's entry title. My boyfriend, W, informed me yesterday that he needed to go back to the gym because he was growing a "sympathy belly". For me. Because he is sympathetic to my waistline.

I don't WANT him to be sympathetic to my waistline! I'm not knocked up! My waistline is a pre-existing condition, not an unfortunate car accident.

I laughed at the time (and I'm kind of chuckling now), but REALLY? And the worst part about it is that when he takes his flab off, it's going to take him about three seconds and three sit ups to do it.

Today I'm going to the track and running, if the weather holds. If not, I'll be spending the night stewing about W's sorry assed Buddha belly. But I'll do it with a salad.