The bloats

There's this flavoured milk ad that's been on the teev for the past few weeks of a bunch of 20 somethings cruising around on a hedonistic road trip and, in between adventures, sustaining themselves and their youth juices with said flavoured milk.

We laugh at the ad knowingly because when normal people down 600 mls of milk in a quick hit they get the dairy bloats and don't actually want to do much after that. Let alone jump into creeks, surf, horse riding, and other tampon packet territory activities I have failed to mention.

Anyway, tonight I suffered the bloats.

I don't know why it seemed like a good idea to have 300 mls of custard + ice cream + cream + banana for desert. Probably because the concept seemed fuck of delish. And it was. But it didn't settle on the old tummer so well.

But ... I'd had my heart set on a pie. A delish pie. So despite being groggy with custard bloat, I cooked up a pair of fruit pies.

I had one - with cream and ice-cream. It was also delish. But then it made me more full. Not painful full, but uncomfortable full. Like when you binge on Chinese food.

Ten minutes later, my stomach noticeably even more "protrudy", I ate the second pie.

Now I have severe custard and pie bloats. Big time. I'm farting like a farty mofo, and groaning from the pain of too much food ingested.

Stupid sexy pies singing their sweet shortcrust pastry siren song. Damn you! Damn you to your delicious pastry hell!

(shakes fist feebly at fat encrusted pie maker)