eating is not a sport

I seriously need to remind myself of this fact: eating is not a sport.

Last night I had some of my amazing, hilarious, gorgeous friends over to my house for my birthday. Because I am 26 going on 12, I had a make-your-own-pizza party. And make pizza we did. Eight pizzas to be exact. BBQ chicken, supreme, greek, ginger-chicken with pineapple, pumpkin and rocket with feta...mmmm...
I had strategically located my seat directly beside the table with all of the food on it. My prime seating allowed me to sample each new pizza as it came out of the oven, plus eat all of the various snacks dispersed across the table.
As it would also turn out, I have found a kindred soul in Miss Katherine Stobs-Stobart. Kat can eat, and I say this with the utmost respect, even more than I can. She may even think about food more than I do.

As a result of Kat's encouragement, I ate what may equate to an entire family-sized pizza. As did Kat.

It is times like these I must remind myself again that eating is not a sport. I am now spending my first official day as a 26 year-old nursing a massive food hangover.

***though to be honest I am just waiting for my stomach to settle so I can start eating some of the leftovers I brought with me to work***