I haven’t been following my “diet” as strictly as usual, which is just fine. Just a little bit of fat gain, and if I still fit my skinny jeans, then I’m doing fine.

My legs are even shrinking a little bit. If I can find my tape measure, I’ll do some work and figure it out.

But I’d rather go eat a breakfast heavy enough for three and dominated by bacon.

The Chipotle by my house isn’t nearly as good as the one by work. They are SO uninspiringly slow.

It’s going to force me to cook dinner more often. And I always feel a little bit guilty not offering my roommates

— three of them now!, as I’ve just moved out, and my old roommate and friend Dan moved to NYC —

at least a bit of my dinner. Sorry guys, I need every single pound of that chicken, broccoli, and black beans. Possibly a spinach salad with cucumber. I cook for four, so it’s even worse.

I can see the pain in their eyes.