We're dating and we're at my place, talking about where to go to eat. It is problematic with my new job as a food critic, I'm super picky for one, and two, I hate being recognized when out and then everyone gets excited thinking they're going to get a review! So annoying...you suggest going out for poutine...gross! Fries covered in gravy and cheese curds, could anything be more fattening and disgusting? I go off on the evils of fast food, and suggest we stay in. I rummage in my fridge, bending over and giving you a view of my big round butt in spandex. I pull out some green beans and suggest an exotic Indian dish you never heard of, of course. More of my suggestions go over your head and again you suggest fast food. I continue to berate you for your poor diet, saying, you are what you eat, do you want to be junk, since you eat junk food? Suddenly a plate of fries appears on the table, and a bottle of mayonnaise. What the hell? I must be hallucinating, maybe I'm coming down with something. We should definitely stay in. Immediately I confess how difficult my job is, appearing decorous when presented with delicious food when I just want to stuff it in my face. The tiny plates at these gourmet restaurants. I just go home and stuff my face with my favourite, fries with mayo, a few times a week. I can't help but dip some fries in while you watch and moan with delight. To my astonishment, I can't help but climb on the table and strip off my spandex. What's going on? I'm stuck! Help! I squat over the plate of fries and say robotically "You are what you eat!" over and over. My stomach churns and I squeeze, mayonnaise comes out of my ass, all over the fries! I'm so humiliated. I try to escape but my limbs are stuck to the table like with super glue. Help! I can't stop squeezing mayo all over the fries. It is so disgusting! You don't even try to assist, you just enjoy the spectacle in surprise and arousal. Huge streams of creamy liquid escape my ass, over and over, in amazing quantities. I sob and protest but I just can't move. Finally I get one leg up, but I'm stuck again! Like Sisyphus I'm bound to my own sin, unable to cease producing the evidence of my own lies. Ultimately emptied, I'm released and I run out of the room to the bathroom, humiliated