Seriously. I'm doing it this time.

Welcome to the blog where I try to break up with my gut.

Ending any relationship is hard, but my gut and I have been through a lot together. She's with me wherever I go. A constant companion, so to speak. She was built with a combination of bad Rx drugs, steroids, and yummy, yummy food. This did not happen overnight, friends. We have been growing together since college. We took a brief break in 1999, but the ‘roids and the food caught up with me again, and I embraced her like an old friend. Through the years, we’ve put on over 70 pounds, and I’m tired of hauling her around all the time.

She’s selfish and mean. As you can see from the rest of me, she’s clearly taking up all the good food. She doesn’t like to fit into new clothes, and she’s making it harder and harder for me to get into tight places, like an airplane seat or my pants. Unlike her also-large cousins, my boobs, she doesn’t add any appeal to the rest of me.

So, gut, I’m breaking up with you. I want to start seeing other, smaller stomachs. I want to button my pants again. I am going to harass you until you go find a new home.

(Just, please, don’t find that new home on my ass.)