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Over Christmas my mom's Italian American cooking did me in. It was like a feast every son of a bitch day. That braciola filled me up quick. Broccoli Rabe had that perfect kick, and those mozzarella balls? Couldn't stop munching on 'em. The calamari was lightly fried, just how I like it. I ate so many chicken cutlets I felt pregnant. I made a fool of myself as a human being pigging out on those cannolis at the end. Honestly, between all these dishes, I didn't have a chance. Every time I thought about hitting the gym, I'd remember those meals waiting for me at home. Now I'm here looking like fat Anthony or some kinda gabagoli looking back and wondering if I should've paced myself.
Anybody else feel like they overdid it this holiday season?
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