Wednesday, December 3, 2014

The Gluttony Chronicles

Watching my son this past Thanksgiving, I was filled with envy.

But, this time it wasn’t because of his youth and ability to charm large crowds of people.

No, this time I was envious of the boy’s ability to eat whatever he pleases, free from the constraints of consequence that eventually tether most adults.
Pictured: my first product

But, that didn’t stop me from doing what so many of us do this time of year.

All of which is to say, my annual quest to put on ten pounds of “winter coat” has begun and I’ve charged out of the gate with a deep-fried flourish. 

It’s all downhill from here and I mean that in terms of the mounting momentum of my consumption and the likelihood of my depression come January 2.

I’m not sure when it happened but, somewhere along the line, it became more difficult to enjoy sweets, salty snacks and rich foods without a heaping helping of guilt piled on the side.

But not Master Blackwell. Oh no. Not my boy. He isn’t yet capable of such worries and, in his own way, he flaunts it, damn near luxuriates in it.

So we were out of town at Mrs. Blackwell’s folks’ place for Thanksgiving and we gorged. And why did we do this? Because, “It’s vacation” and “It’s Thanksgiving” and that automatically suspends us from the repercussions of reality. Right?

Aided and abetted by Mrs. Blackwell’s folks, the boy quickly forged a diet that can best be described as “why not?”

There was chocolate. Chocolate chip cookies. There were three kinds of pie. There were donuts — oh, so many donuts. And I’m pretty sure there was some cake too. He even ate Thai food — it’s a varied pallet the boy sports. can almost taste the crippling guilt.

I ate all of these things too. And, to make weight gain a certainty, I added in plenty of beer.

While Mrs. Blackwell and I enjoyed what the boy enjoyed and more, there was a stark difference — moderation. 

There were limits to how much we let the boy eat, a stopping point defined by a combination of common sense and impending parental guilt.

No such line existed for myself.

The crowning achievement of the past week’s consumption was my eating nearly an entire 14” pecan pie, which I discovered happens to be one of four foods I can’t stop eating until my clothes fit differently. 

(Incidentally, the other three are: lasagna, chocolate “Snack Packs” and potato salad.)

I didn’t eat entire the pie in one sitting. (That’s about the only dignified claim I can make here.) Ever checked out the stats on a pecan pie? It’s like scientists employed cold fusion to put sugar inside of sugar.

After eating your sixth pack, you're no longer allowed
to call them snacks.
One serving is about half the recommended daily calories for an average human. 

One “serving” also happens to be about one “fifth” of what I consider a legitimately sized slice of pie thus making me not average in a way I never, ever desired. 

So, this is where we sit so early in the holiday season. 

Ahead of us all is a path filled with office parties, holiday get togethers and big dinners and it’s all paved with sweets as far as the eye can see.

It’s one of life’s great ironies that the capacity of one’s self discipline is so inversely proportionate to the availability of horrible, yet tasty food.

Yes, it’s the holidays — a time to be thankful for our good fortune and envious of those who can indulge it without a care in the world. 

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