I just had two slices of pizza. I can feel the grease’s coating along my throat and esophagus, making it so easy to shove another nauseatingly delicious combination of dough, cheese and sauce down my jaws. My stomach’s uncomfortable level of fullness keeps me from grabbing a third piece. Of course, I ate these after already having what a normal human being would consider a reasonable dinner.
The issue is that my dad suggested getting pizza. Pizza is one of those things that is nearly impossible to say no to. I think that pizza, in theory, may be up there with the Internet in pure amazingness. However, the level of beauty of pizza is highly variable. When one hasn’t had pizza for many a day, the idea seems perfect. On the flip side, pizza after having pizza sounds like hell on earth. Right now, I’m realizing how awful pizza is. The idea of cheese and so much grease and sauce is just so gross to me.
What’s worse is how easy pizza is. From the moment I said yes to pizza to the time I took the first bite was no longer than 30 minutes. In 30 minutes, I went from being hungry to regretting eating those trianglular-ish-shaped things. As someone who has been trying to shift their eating and general life habits towards the healthier side, the ease of pizza should be a crime. There should be an added level of difficulty for each pizza order, like having to do a certain number of jumping jacks or walking a certain number of steps.
All I’m saying is that pizza managed to break down my already weak self-control and make me fail at my lofty goals for eating healthier. Hopefully this post and pizza will work together to inspire me to not fail once again (though I will probably fail again).