i told myself "if you get ready and actually leave the house and go buy some real fat lady clothes (that's right... i finally purchased a pair of maternity jeans which have the inexplicable ability to make me look bigger than non-maternity jeans, especially when they're not placed precisely just-so upon my hips and ass and paired with just the right genre of shirt), you can go work in the coffee shop for the rest of the afternoon and have a cookie."
while wiping melted chocolate from all over my hands and lips, i typed an email to brian asking if we were finally planning on making it to the gym after our two week hiatus used for moving. he replied "yes". i replied "poo". i then agreed we should take a walk and unpack instead. to make sure we really took a walk and unpacked instead of doing like we did tuesday night and eating, "playing", and watching tv in bed, i suggested we walk to a restaurant for dinner as a form of motivation.
i've become a food machine. soon, my survivalist utilitarianism shall increase two-fold. there is no more body up for the purpose of sensuality or individuality or aesthete. it's all about the body as a function of nature.