Tight pants aren't necessarily sexy

I think I've said this before, but it has been reinforced for me today so I'll mention it again. My mood is directly related to how tight my pants are.

Yesterday I was feeling great--probably because I had to work on Sunday and didn't have time to pig out like I usually do on an NFL Sunday--but today I'm stuffed and suffering from restrictive denim syndrome. I didn't think pants could get this tight in a 24-hour period. We had a great time last night at Cantina Laredo, but I think I ate my weight in cheese. We started out with chips and queso, but by the time we were finished I had eaten quesadillas, mini tacos with a queso drizzle, some bean/cheese/chicken nachos, and other random cheesey things that two margaritas convinced me I desperately needed.

After all twelve of us at dinner had been grazing for about two hours the wait staff did the happy birthday song and dance for Angela and brought out a really rich brownie with whipped cream on top. Angela took the first bite of course and passed it around, but I finished it off. I had already eaten plenty, but I could have sworn I felt a slight twinge of lingering hunger underneath all the chicken and cheese that I had already consumed, and I decided I couldn't let a perfectly good piece of chocolate go to waste. Wow. I'm swollen today. But I'm still excited for lunch.

Four days to deflate, then it will be time for weekend over-eating again. I can't wait. We have a party to go to Saturday night, plus the NFL playoffs will be on both days and that means wings and beer. I've tried to hold back with the Colts love because I don't want to beat you down with it, but GO COLTS!! I have a good feeling about those boys.