I had breakfast this morning, and even though it’s only 10am right now, I’m starving. Why? Let me tell you about a little syndrome called The Mike Garvey Holiday Stomach.
It starts innocently enough: an ongoing commitment to a salad a day, copious water (“H-Twenty”), and minimal coffee. True, I’ve been running about as much as a guy who says he’s been running a lot but has actually only been for two and a half runs. Irregardless, said commitment resulted in lower BP and a loss of seven lbs. Not too shabs.
But then we introduce the fried fish variable into the equation. This was Friday, the last meat free day we Catholics mysteriously recognize for another 10.5 months. And oh my God, it was damn good. I was painfully full for the first time in months.
Saturday was tame, food wise, but we follow that up with Sunday’s binge-fest. Were that holy day not already known for either the rites of spring or the celebration of the Resurrected Son, historians would undoubtedly refer to yesterday as “Cholesterol Sunday”. Take brunch with the in-laws, dinner with the parents, and fill in the gaps with Cadbury cream eggs, M&Ms, and potatoes au gratin and there you have a stomach that has become used to eating every ten to fifteen minutes.
The trip back to salad and water is not an easy one. Suffering from The Mike Garvey Holiday Stomach, I feel like I’m dropping a meal the size of a penny into a tummy the size of a gymnasium.
1 year ago