Breakfast: (n) a meal eaten in the morning, the first of the day

It is part of the “wearing a coat” syndrome.

When I was a younger man, I often walked out into Ohio winters in a short-sleeved shirt, portraying to those lads and lasses around me that I was so engorged with virility that my body was nearly aflame.

Every attempt by adults to get me to wear a coat was eschewed as being “weak,” comically unnecessary.

I had much the same feeling about breakfast. Although I was a fat guy, I never ate breakfast. So all my food consumption fell within an eight-hour period–from noon to eight o’clock at night. Then I would go without any consumption of treats for sixteen hours.

It made me grumpy and actually ended up causing me to overeat–because once I was unleashed at the noon hour, I was a consuming hellion.

I don’t know why I didn’t want to eat breakfast. It was just that cool kids did not sit down in the morning in front of a plate and have their mommies make them bacon and eggs. I could have eaten cereal, but that would have required a bowl and retrieving milk from the refrigerator.

It was easier to walk out of my house coatless, nearly freezing to death, on an empty stomach–to prove that I was truly a beast of the wilderness.

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