glutton

In the early 1980s, in the 1990s, returning like a malarial fever, the enemy was the Medfly, the Mediterranean fruit fly — pest, parasite, glutton for our golden harvests, despoiler of sunny citrus and rosy peaches, murderer of guacamole avocados.

She’s boisterous but not a glutton for attention.

Like a moth to a flame, there is just something about all that color and texture; I am a glutton for disappointment where fruitcake is concerned.

“I guess I’m just a glutton for punishment,” Hough said with a laugh during a video interview from Minneapolis.

If you’re an author who happens to be a glutton for punishment or, worse, an insomniac — or, disaster scenario: both — you might be familiar with a certain masochistic feedback loop.