I want...a big, fat, juicy steak. With creamed spinach. And cheesy, garlic potatoes that you know, you KNOW, were made with an obscene amount of butter. A chopped salad of some sort to start. And a fabulous, delectable chocolate dessert, ice cream on top preferred. A bottle of Pinot Grigio or Reisling than I can get inexplicably tipsy on.
Hell yeah
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I often get angry and wonder why I wasn't blessed with the same metabolic rate as my sister, who eats nothing but carbs all day, every day, never exercises, and maintains the body of a Victoria's Secret model (no exaggeration).
But then I remember: She doesn't eat seafood. She doesn't like steak, sushi, or anything even remotely exotic. She won't go near most vegetables, which I also happen to love, and orders the same meal every time she goes out to eat, no matter the restaurant. BO-RING! Not for me, thank you.
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