Water Buffalo

Relax, I'm referring to myself.  I ate so much food today.  It is 7:45 pm and I am bloated.  In the world of competitive eating one experiences highs and lows.  The highs of winning, following months of training.  And the lows of losing.  The lowest of the low being the heartache, acid reflux, irritable bowel, edema like stomach distension, and addition of pressure on internal organs which can't be soothed with a win.  The following story is a not a tale of winning.

Breakfast and lunch were normal.  I ate both meals at work.  Following work, I went to the gym, then came home and ate again.  Big mistake.  I ate Thanksgiving leftovers which filled me up.  As I ate the last green bean, Gina looked at me and said,
-"I want pizza.  I've been thinking about it a lot today."
-"Oh, ok, pizza."  Now, I didn't feel comfortable saying, "Oh, let's not.  I just finished a big meal.  I'll make you something from the kitchen."  She had wanted it all day, so it was morally imperative to order the pizza.  So, instead I said, "Oh, ok, pizza.  I'll help you eat it."  Homer Simpson, move over, you're bloated cousin's about to move in.  His name is Adam and he's put on a li'l bit of sympathy weight.

We ordered the pizza.  Her half was pineapple and ham and my half was jalapenos and peperoni.  I was doing everything I could to really put winning ingredients in to my body.  The order was smooth, but for effect, should've gone like this.
-"Yes, I'd like to place an order for a pizza.  The two halves need to be divided as such:  she'll have pineapple and ham and I'll have jalapenos and peperoni."
-"Oh, Sir, good choice.  You want the salt overload and diarrhea special?  We call that the Type II.  Don't forget to put hot sauce on it, dumb ass."
-"Yes, please, mmmmmmm.  Can't wait!"

Gina has hungry eyes.  They are more hungry than her stomach.  She feels really hungry, and wants to be hungry.  The problem is when she eats she fills up quickly, due to there not being much room down there.  So I'm stuck with the rest of her food, which follows my whole dinner.  (Now, I am completely aware that I can ask for a to go box, or just order less of my own dinner.  I have free will.  No one is forcing me to eat all of this awesome goodness)  The pizza came and it looked so good.  We dove in, and she was only able to eat three little pieces.  I ate the rest.  Good job, Adam!   As the pregnancy progresses, you may see me on the reality show, "Intervention".
-"Adam, we all love you and we're hear for a reason.  You are addicted to food.  Come on, let's go to Promises and get you fixed up."
-"No, I'm good, I promise!  I'm not going to Oxnard for rehab!  Its just sympathy weight."
-"Promises is in Malibu, not Oxnard.  Denial, buddy.  You're very blind to it right now.  "
-"Ok, let's go. 

After pizza, we went to the movies and had popcorn and a soda.  I ordered the glutton soda-a diet coke.  Gina and I ate the popcorn and finished the soda before the PREVIEWS EVEN STARTED.

As stated in previous blogs, Gina has become emotional, slightly more so than before.  Not too much, but her tears come a little quicker.  This movie was a romance.  She dabbed her eyes with tissue a couple of times.  Afterward, I offered her a hug and asked,
-"Are you ok?"
-"Yes, I'm fine.  What do you think, Mexican, Ethiopian, Thai, or pho?"  As I was stuffed from all of the food we'd eaten before, I told myself she was referring to what nationality of baby we may adopt, in the future.  She must have been?  No, she finished the question with pho, and not Vietnamese.  She meant food.
-"Are you serious?  I'm stuffed!"  I saw the wind leave the sails of her eyes as I said it.  The sails found wind again as we parked at the Vietnamese restaurant and ordered pho.  I am a water buffalo.