There is no denying it

Fatter but denying it, I stare at myself, can't tell what the outside sees. The frequency of my observations desensitizes me to the picture of my own body.

Where to go from here?

Must I stop enjoying what I eat?
Explore the four letter word, d-i-e-t? Or embrace e-x-e-r-c-i-s-e beyond the bare minimum bike rides and 20-block walks?

Does it matter what I look like? If I adopt the attitude, "Who cares?" am I justifying gluttony or actually ignoring scrutiny?

We have yet to see.

"But if we walked down with our feet, I'd be pulling spines and barbs and foxtails from your skin."