Eat, Eat, Eat

Eat, eat, eat. That is all I did all weekend long. I got up this morning and feel like a lump of clay. The thought of breakfast is not a good one, so I will not eat anything until my stomach growls. As if I did not eat enough Saturday night at a Sweet Sixteen, I went to a Mediterranean buffet on Sunday. What was I thinking? Am I Wonder Woman? I am over 55 and my intestines are not as supple as they were when I was 20. As I was pushing in the last bite of my fourth baklava at the buffet, I realized that food can be pleasurable or painful. Saturday it was pleasurable. Sunday afternoon it became painful. This morning it is just sad.