I'm fat.

Gone are the days of P90x workouts until I puke. Gone is my 4 pack. Gone are my bicepts (the envy of all my friends- go ahead and admit it Joe.). Gone is my endurance. Gone are my diamond cut tricepts.

In their place are flabby arms. An ever exapnding waist line. Doobs. And a sugar habit that would make Pookie from New Jack City blush.

I'm disgusting, and only getting worse. I keep telling myself I've got the rest of my life to workout. The rest of my life to eat boring, disgustingly healthy things to stay in shape. I keep telling myself these things as I scarf down my third bag of doritos for the day.

But I guess this is what happens when you become an international glutton. I'm soaking in everything. Free beer. Street food. Junk food. Doritos in 20 new exotic flavors. Meals with friends, meals with family. I just keep on eating and I've got six more months of it ahead.

So go ahead, get your shots in. Call me tubby. Call me the fat chick from Wilson Phillips. I don't care. I'm going to enjoy my trip around the world, and then come home and work my ass of until I get so strong I can open a can of corn simply by looking at it sternly. Arrrrrrggggggg.