So weird thing about my Zumba class is that they are always sharing cake, really really good cake. Under the guise of someone’s birthday (RIGHT). It’s allowed because it promotes return business and on a personal note I find that nothing makes me feel better than seeing “that girl”, stuff her face.
    You know the girl I mean, in her cutesy gym apparel with matching weights, who does all the moves right with a smile and without having the courtesy to sweat. Yeah her! Well she’s not immune to cake, which everyone knows is workout kryptonite.
    Instead of putting the huge piece I made away with on displace (It could fill this whole lunchbox) I made the brave decision to cut just a slice and throw in a sushi ham sandwich, two samosas and a guilt apple. Yeah for pretending to have self control.

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