A la Mode?

It’s Saturday morning and I am tired even though I slept late, I am hot even though the house says it’s 70 degrees, and I am cranky even though it’s a beautiful sunny day; and I think I know the reason for all three. The blame here is going on last night's buffet dinner; I think unlimited eating should be eliminated or at least come with a warning. I will take some responsibility, after all I was not force fed. Seems I get confused and interpret “all you can eat” as “eat all you can.” After all, you can get too much of a good thing, and I did. A perfect night otherwise; great friends, a few drinks (maybe more), hysterical laughter (the kind that makes the other tables look at you), and total comfort to say and eat whatever you want (translation: I don’t have to watch my language or count my calories, because no one cares). Unfortunately in a buffet setting, this is the perfect storm.

My first mistake was in the anticipation; I didn’t eat much all day because I wanted to be hungry enough to enjoy dinner (it could be a little bit of “getting your money’s worth” too, remember my heritage). I have learned this lesson over and over again and for some reason it does not sink in; repeat after me: starvation leads to gluttony. My second mistake was comfort, I was dressed nicely but it was an un-tucked ensemble, which automatically means there is no visible sign I am eating too much. My third mistake was alcohol, which resulted in my fourth mistake, no shut-off valve, the little voice inside my head that says “you’ve had enough” was stifled by vodka. So taking all these offenses into consideration you would be safe to conclude that this was a first class food overload, and I am paying for it today.

My first punishment was not the alcohol, I stopped drinking early enough (or just ran out of room); I was happy intoxicated, not the hangover variety. The primary offender was the water, gallons and gallons of water. I am solely a water drinker anyway, all day - every day, never soda, just water and coffee. Add to that the glass after glass I consumed with dinner (salt and fat taste good and make you thirsty) and I am at least thankful that maybe I burned a few calories traveling back and forth to the bathroom all night. You would think that all that water would prevent all that food from taking residence in my body, but no, by the time that message got across, the damage had already been done. My second punishment is how I felt when I woke up today; like I was dragging the entire contents of the buffet in a weight bag behind me with every step. My eyes were swollen and I’m still thirsty (damn salt), my morning coffee felt unwelcome, and I struggled to swallow my beloved Fiber One bar. I am sure that my third punishment will come later when I have the “now my stomach feels empty” revenge and I will have to convince it that the extra space is unnecessary and if ignored it will go away again, hopefully quickly. Which brings me to my final punishment; this was supposed to be a controlled week, Thursday is dinner with the BU girls. This is not a crowd I need any extra sodium hanging out in or on my body; these girls do not fool around when it comes to health and fitness (some a little more obsessive than others – I am in the others category). Not to mention that there will be a lot of picture taking, which leads to a lot of Facebook tagging, and I can only “trash” so many before they remove my deletion rights. There is only so much “skinny” jeans and a good hair day can do, so I am looking at some major calorie deprivation days ahead – I am thinking Yom Kippur fasting prep (no time like the present to start repenting). Carleton Street girls, I vow you will see no evidence of last night’s transgression by the time we assume our first pose on Thursday. I will not be “ripped” or a size 2, but I will have maintained the 48 year old body you saw at the last dinner.

I will admit that if I can get back on the wagon today, it may have actually been worth the fall. The food was great, each and every trip back through the line (this was not Hometown Buffet, this was Country Club buffet, and I mention that just to qualify that these were grade “A” calories). The dessert was probably overkill, a Junior’s Chocolate Cake/ Cheesecake creation, which the waitress had to mention, was 1600 calories a slice (this was her “hint” that we should share). My friend (who makes any dinner a party) responded with the comeback of the evening, “Well then, can we have it a la mode?”

Calories be damned, I’ll still zip my jeans today and maybe I’ll walk tomorrow. I’ll take a night that ends like that anytime, and deal with the bloating later.