Now we know from prior writings that my fat talks to me. Well it was not pleased with the sudden decrease in consumption of (of all things) bacon and fried chicken. Here I am trying to be more sophisticated and the country (as my dad likes to say, because he didn’t raise me ghetto) comes out. On Sundays people would talk about the great things happening in their lives. The wannabe holy Trish could only cry about the loss of a longtime love in her life…bacon.