Postprandial

After dinner, I always try to avoid looking at Leonard's waist. He wears this big ole buckle, see, and after all that eating, it digs into his gut. So he rolls himself onto the couch and leans back as far as he can go, trying to alleviate the dig. But of course that doesn't work.

So he heaves up his gut and unfastens the buckle. Then his oversized gut can hang freely over his pants. It's a ritual, of sorts, but it makes me want to vomit most of the time. That's why I retreat to my room after dinner most every night. And I don't come back out until he's changed into his pajamas. They have an elastic waistband.