The old saying goes “Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a pauper.” So every morning I pillage my neighbor’s oatmeal and newspaper because I’m the Viking King. Then I don’t eat for the rest of the day; I don’t want my status to depreciate.
I go running every day. Even if I’m on my honeymoon at a secluded Cabo bungalow that doesn’t have a treadmill, I’ll jog outside the premises until I get lost. Then I will sprint through scary Mexican backstreets with tears streaking off my face.
I don’t drink soda unless I’m at the movies — or a friend’s house and soda is offered. I don’t eat junk food, unless I’m at that same friend’s house and a hot dog falls on the ground and I’m dared to eat it. Then I’ll chase that hot dog with nachos, a milkshake and several deep-fried Twinkies.