Treated my boyfriend to dinner at a charming, hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. They brought out the free bread that I guess is supposed to be an appetizer, and I laughed when I saw that it looked like a fat, bloated belly, complete with misshapen navel. This, my friends, is why I don’t eat bread. A classic example of the clichè, “You are what you eat!”
Bread is bad for me.