I Ate You So Much

This is the apple  perfect for my morning oatmeal regimin.  Tart, crisp and winey.  I dice them up with the skin on and toss them into the water to boil up a bit before the oats go in(only the perfect cubes go in; the irregular-shaped ones I gobble up, kinda like a momma crocodile does when the babies hatch).  Raisins, cinnamon, Splenda, and butter(half as much as I want to add, which is still probably too much) get added later.  A staple meal in my weight-loss endeavors.  Which reminds me. . .

Part of my job’s insurance program is having a health advisor give you a quartly review.  A different lady every quarter

asks you questions about your eating habits and the physicality of your lifestyle.  These ladies are also out-of-touch bitches.

Case in point: when I last talked to one and told her about my oatmeal recipe, she told me, “well, as long as it’s a small

apple.”  I told her that it’s usually a pretty small Gala apple.

What I wanted to say was “BITCH ARE YOU TRYING TO REGULATE MY APPLE INTAKE FOR REAL?  FUCKING APPLES?”  It’s not like I said “I only add a 13.9 oz. bag of Doritos.”  A 6’1″ man can eat as many apples as he wants, and they can be pumpkin sized.  I would lose 100 pounds.