Springtime Belly

The weather's getting better, and I've got a drawer full of hooch gear that I want to bring out. The problem is that most of it doesn’t fit me quite right, and I'm broke as a mofo. I am not even trying to lose my junk in the trunk, nor do I particularly care to look "toned" and all that shit, but I do need work on these abs. Yet the problem is so circular, because I also require some sun to make this image presentable. Presently, the truth laid bare is that my belly and a five-gallon sack of milk are virtually indistinguishable. I don’t even know where my tits end and the belly begins. All the freaking babies of the world could come take a suckle off my shit. But I don't like babies, and I need an excuse to rid myself of this ability and the concurrent guilt that accompanies its lack of execution. So today, in addition to walking instead of driving, I actually hit up the gym.