Moving is hell on my waistline. You’d think after a month of pain and a 15 pounds weight loss (OK, it was 3 months of pain) I’d be more circumspect about what the hell I eat. But when you’re moving, A. It’s stressful, B. You have no kitchen, C. You get SUPER hungry at inopportune times and locations, like across the street from McDonalds at 2 pm and, D. Food can magically come to your house via delivery.
I seem to have locked onto a pizza delivery system that works well for me. I had it for dinner on a number of occasions in amongst the boxes and chaos. And then for breakfast I had the cold pizza sandwich option. It was delicious. The next time, though, I gave the leftovers to a neighbor kid who is doing odd jobs for me. I have some self control, upon occasion.
On the right you see what the future holds for me unless I get my kitchen set up.