Whenever I face a complimentary (included in the price of the very expensive suite) hotel breakfast buffet, my former-fat-kid emotions return;
Even after years of yoga, Zen meditation, and plenty of career and colleague validation, I fight the instinct to drowned myself in extra salty eggs, buttery breakfast potatoes, and an overdose of sweet rolls.
Just when I think I’ve reached my bursting point, I like to cram down a toxic level of citric acid in the form of fresh cut pineapple, hand-squeezed grapefruit juice, and four cups of executive-level coffee loaded with heavy cream (did I mention I’m lactose intolerant?)
What can I say, I’m a sucker for the word “free”, and when on vacation (or work) I allow myself to be free with my feelings...even if it means eating them.
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