Goddamn it's one god awful day outside. I need a new belt. I'm wearing the same belt I have for about 5 years now. I'm also wearing baggy jeans. No idea why. Found them in the cupboard so I guess they're mine. Anyway, the belt is disintergrating after five years of pushing against my varying girth. My belly comes and goes as I move about and go through bouts of depression and poverty. At the moment it's not large, just the smallest pot belly. Not as bad as Bart Simpson's. Every time someone mentions pot bellies it reminds me of pulp fiction where Fabienne tells Butch pot bellies make men look oafish.