Day 5: Bloated Sheep

"Sheep, mere sheeeeep, easily dispersed if you strike the shepherd" - King Edward the Longshanks in Braveheart.

My dad has a general dislike of sheep. He thinks they are stupid. Any animal that eats itself to death is not worthy of his affection. As farm kids know, sheep will eat themselves to death when it comes to grain.

I fear I am in danger of losing my father's love.

You see, tonight I just about ate myself to death. Like a sheep let out in a bean field, I was at a dinner celebrating the kid's senior status. The meal was lasagna (excellent noodle consistency, distinct cheese filling), salad (sugared almonds, mandarin oranges and a fabulous dressing over lettuce), fruit salad (some kind of strawberry goodness mixed with just a little bit of jello and topped with a whipped cream layer) and garlic bread (big loaf, cut in half and smothered inside with garlic butter). Dessert was blueberry cobbler. I had a plate and was full.

Then Day 1 Me began baaing. Just a little bit more I thought as I creeped back into the kitchen. Did a little small talk as I stealthily spooned a "little" more salad onto my plate. And what's this? Daughter didn't finish her plate? I should take half her lasagna to reduce waste. And now that I have this additional lasagna, I really need another half of garlic bread... ooh and now I have to have a glass of milk and dessert...

Baaaaaaa. About five minutes later the food began expanding and suddenly I wanted to lie on the floor and die. So full. So stupid. So so stupid. I could barely talk after that, I just kept feeling like my "in-y" belly button was about to pop into an "outie."

I got home and instantly went on a walk with Mocha. I feel only minimally better, physically and emotionally. I can't even say I was following the lead of everyone else - I was the lone sheep wandering around in excess.

I must hold onto this pain, and use it in the future. This feeling is forever termed, the Bloated Sheep. And I HATE Bloated Sheep.