I cook pretty well for myself, especially considering that I live alone (again) and didn’t know how to cook at all a few years ago.  Most of the time, there are one or two fancy meals a week (and by fancy, I mean fresh food cooked into something that includes more than four ingredients), and there are plenty of leftovers to get me from one cooking spree to the next.  I really think I’m relatively healthy.  I even like vegetables.  A lot.

Then there are weeks like this one.  I was feeling lazy last Sunday, so when it was my turn to provide food for 8-ish people, I got help from my good friend Papa John.  He’s an obliging fellow.

There was some leftover pizza after that, and I thought I would eat it for the next day or two and then go to the grocery store.  Well, it’s Thursday.  I haven’t eaten anything except for cereal and pizza since Saturday.  My body hates me.  I even put some of the pizza in the freezer, and I think there’s one more portion of it in the fridge.

The only real positive here is that eating cereal and one and a half extra-large pizzas for a week is a surprisingly economical option.  My body doesn’t care about that though.  It wants leafy greens and piles of protein, stat!  I’ve never wanted a plate full of spinach with a side of steak as much as I do at this moment.  I’d gladly devour anything that has about a trillion vitamins, some significant meat, and contains no bread.  The fact that I don’t want bread is astounding.  That might never, ever happen again.

I’m pretty sure I won’t be eating pizza at the wedding I’m going to on Friday night, so there’s a break in sight.  Thank you, friends, for getting married and feeding your guests!  Until then, I think I’ll just plow through the last few slices.  Almost there.