she just can’t be bothered

While delicious and free, two weeks of big American breakfasts, all the peanut butter products under the sun and the best gosh darn donut place in the world have done their damage. She's noticing the, ahem, “snug” fit of her clothing and she feels about two candy bars away from donning a muumuu and losing all definition between her chin and my neck. She dreads that moment when gravity does its thing and turns what was once a right angle into its hypotenuse, thus connecting her chin directly to her collarbones. And yet... she has failed to get back to the pre-work gym routine that she had gotten pretty good at and was shockingly even quite fond of. Instead, the sweet bliss of sleep, safe and snug in the refuge of her down comforter, has prevailed thus far.

"Meh… maybe this week" she shrugs, as she glances guiltily at the awaiting gym bag at her feet.