I like to eat.
I love to eat.
I take pride in my palate for eclectic and exotic eats. Stick a plate full of my mom's Chicken Adobo in front of me (accompanied by rice, of course), and I just can't resist. Invite me to that Michelin-star restaurant that everyone raves about, and I'll be the first one there. Or on an evening when the hubby cooks one of his specialty dinners at home for the two of us, I might help myself to a second serving.
A hearty appetite, if you will. But is that a crime? Well, if you go by the dictionary definition of the word "crime," then of course not. But honestly, it sure does feel like that some of the time.