Poke

I've been pretty lackadaisical about the working out lately. Convenient excuse of being busy. Plus, it's not like I'm as slobby as I was a year ago when I started the Speaker Body Revolution. While I've put back on a few pounds, I'm still gliding around the pristine pitches of Fontana with little resistance and the non-smoking continues to improve my health every day.

On the other hand, Emet and I go out a lot and drink beer and eat mexican food.

So I've been noticing the expansion, but it really didn't come home to roost until this weekend. AJ was laying on me, as he frequently does when we watch TV together, when he started poking me in the stomach. Soon, he was adding a soundtrack to the pokes, almost chanting. What he was saying was,

"Squishy belly. Squishy belly."

*

As a result, there was nothing but fish and chicken and fruit and vegetables in the grocery cart on Sunday night. Monday's post-little league dinner was grilled (boneless, skinless) chicken with steamed veggies. AJ groaned a little.

"Do you know why we're eating healthy?" I said, ready to drop the bombshell that he was the catalyst.

"Because of the swine flu?"

Better answer. I let him stick with that.