Why I like Belgium: reason #12

Belgians, or certainly the ones I've met, are exceptionally proficient at cooking steak.

But the Emperor of Steak Bakers you'll find at this restaurant. Quite simply, the best steak I have eaten in this land.

But.

Round. Ball-shaped. Semi-circular. Elliptical. Globular. I look down, and I notice evidence of a most unsettling nature. My belly, once flat, is no more. It is still my belly, of course. But flat it is not.

It would be flat. If the degree of flatness that I desire required absolutely no effort whatsoever. But it seems that flatness requires some degree of effort. Which almost completely rules me out of the equation.

It's not that I'm lazy, you understand. It's just that I find the concept of exercise rather boring. If, for example, exercise held the same degree of excitement, enjoyment and sociability that, say, eating did, then I quite simply would not be writing this post.

If I had the body of a twenty-year old... well, I would probably be a serial killer.

As I see it, I don't have an exercise problem. Nor a weight problem. What I have is a food problem. Or, to be more precise, a Belgian food problem. The ruddy blighters do the food thing so incredibly well, here.

Pray for me.