It’s safe to say that I’m a fat guy pizza aficionado.  Papa John’s is my favorite among the chain pizza “restaurants.”  In fact, placing a Sunday order to PJ’s is an almost-weekly ritual during football season.  Put simply, I’m a frequent customer.

Even if I had taken several days off from going to the gym, even if I had noticed a little more roundness in my face, even if I had eaten pizza at work earlier in the week, none of those fact patterns would have enough negative momentum to shame me into refraining from obtaining a pie (or two[1]) if the mood struck me.

That’s why it’s so remarkable that I recently found myself on to the Papa John’s website, my belly empty and my head full—full of mozzarella-covered visions of gluttony, that is—and wound up logging off in disgust without ordering anything.

What could cause such a strange—some…