I'm half way through my free fooding reprieve period. While I didn't go completely hog wild, a few of my bad habits did rear their ugly heads. For instance, I was sitting on my ample ass catching up on the days events through the miracle of television when I began to hear what sounded like a muffled distress signal coming from my kitchen area. I followed my ear to the walk-in pantry and discovered it was a new bag of SmartPop calling out for some companionship. How could I not oblige this old friend and everyone of his kernally buddies? Thinking I could handle it, I succumbed to my SmartPop demon. I could handle just a taste, right? Wrong. Before I knew it, I discovered I had inadvertently demolished most of a party sized bag of the salty little devils. Once I awakened from this foodtopia, the new me decided to check the back of the bag and review the recommended serving size and the calorie content of each portion. One cup equals one serving size and is like 80 calories. Servings per container: 8. Oh-oh... I think I just wolfed down enough popcorn to feed an entire American family. Not good. I could probably handle eating for an entire family of Pygmies, but a whole American family is stretching it.
Another former villain also crept back into my weekend. My old friend Al, as in Al-co-hol. I'm really starting to understand why the nutritionists and doctors want you to abstain from these adult beverages when you're trying to lose weight. It's not just the empty calories that hurt, it's the loss of all your inhibitions and any food will power you might have. I'm a perfect example. Just one cocktail at the halfway house during a round of golf quickly turned into a second and a third on the golf course. Of course we all gathered afterward for our post round score card reviews, complete with lively conversation and more libations. Then for some reason, our group conversation went from "why a guy can't name a drink after himself because it's already called a cuba libre" to betting on me to see how many mini cheeseburgers I could eat. Childish, yes. But a serious challenge nonetheless! Remembering my SmartPop episode, I tried, but could not determine the serving size of one adult for mini cheeseburgers. I had to improvise. I figured the average guy could eat around five. Right? Well right or wrong, I went with my instincts. Good news is, I did not capitulate to peer pressure and go for the "over 9" bet. I could have done it. But was it really worth the $100? See ... I'm learning.
Two old pals also paid a visit this past weekend. Ben & Jerry. Seems they had some new blueberry concoction that they needed my opinion on. Being an agreeable fellow, I vigorously accepted their offer and consented to sample the cold delicacy. I knew that to give a fair review, a simple scoop would be inadequate. I figured three would be a fair test. Once my testing bowl was filled, I slowly began analyzing every mouthful. Strong vanilla base with a wild twang of blueberry topped of with a graham cracker crust. Genius! A delectable frozen cobbler, contained in a hand size cardboard holding cup, found conveniently in your local grocer's frozen food section. What will they think of next? Maybe some type of self saucing ravioli on a stick. Now THAT would be cool.
As my Last Supper approaches tomorrow, it's plain to see that I have issues to deal with. I have always associated eating and drinking with living and having a good time. Clearly, I have an unhealthy marriage to food and drink. Moving forward past tomorrow, I will have to experience an emotional divorce from both and the bad habits they promote. I have been told that I will be on a roller coaster of emotions starting with excitement, moving through sadness and depression and finally on to peace and acceptance. Sounds like a great few months ahead! I just hope I don't have to pay any food alimony.
Just one more day.
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