Comida. The good stuff is really bad for you. I try my best to exercise, especially since I can't resist the last buffalo wing on the plate (and the requisite bleu cheese dunk). Today was spin class. During one of the many climbs in the 45 minute workout, I noticed my calves in the mirror and thought to myself, "Man, how sweet would it be if I had a tasmanian devil tattoo on my calf?"
There's always tomorrow's lunch break for that. Buen Provecho.
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