You are not above ordering an entire pizza just for yourself as an afternoon snack at work and then polishing the whole thing off in one sitting while your coworkers stare.
You cannot watch UFC because it makes you want to use the Jon Jones elbow smash on your server, who seems to have gotten lost on the way back to the table to take your order.
For dessert, you opt for a heaping plate of mashed potatoes.
You hate the poor soul who has agreed to be your emergency contact because it's 5:30 in the morning and you're wide awake and your stomach is growling and he's still sleeping and how dare he sleep through your hunger, goddammit.
You and your running buddy gasp your way through 800s while talking about all of the things you want to shove in your mouths for dinner as soon as you are done with this track workout.
You tell the really drunk friend at the bar that he should eat something so he'll feel better, but really you're just planning to eat all of the food he orders because he's too drunk to know any better.
In the time it has taken your brunch companion to eat three bites, you've inhaled an entire omelette, a side of cheesy grits and two pieces of fruit.
Berlin: Six days.