Seriously. I love food. Mostly junk food. I don't care what you think about that. I'm not afraid to say that, for the most part, I don't have a particularly sophisticated palette. I would eat a damn Bojangles cajun filet biscuit three meals a day if I could. And in between, I would snack on buffalo wings and mozarella sticks and frozen mini corndogs.
But I also love my size 26 James jeans. And therein lies the problem.
I don't know why I'm telling anyone this. Mainly because I think some sick part of me wanted to admit to thinking about Cheetos all day.