Belly Fat

October 28, 2011


On the way back from taking Henry to try and launch a golf career, I sit in the airplane and look out the window, my hand jammed under the belt line of my jeans.
Why is that belly fat always cold?
That belly was swimming in the salty, warm, turquoise ocean of the Florida Gulf Coast only hours ago. White sand, shells rolling in the gentle tidal motion, one strand of seaweed penetrating a modest one-piece.

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