Battle of the Buffet, Part II

This afternoon, it occurred to me, that all of mankind's problem came about because of a buffet. In the beginning, God gave Adam and Eve the perfect buffet--a garden full of wonderful things to see, smell, taste, and experience. Only one item on the buffet was forbidden, and that was the one item Eve had to put on her plate. I have to wonder if that means something.

Sunday night, I was Eve at the buffet all over again. Obviously, I didn't do any better than she did, and I've decided that for the moment, I'm just not strong enough for the valley of the shadow of the dessert line. From now on, I'm sending someone else to put one item on my plate. I'm not even going to go look, because there's bound to be twenty plates there whispering, "Yea, the fat grams cannot be that bad . . ."

So. With all these dessert platters, bread baskets, hot plates, and dressing vats having their way with us, can any of us really win? Fortunately, before Sunday was Saturday (no, I am not attempting profundity), and on Saturday, I walked away from a buffet with my head held high. Consequently, there must be something to be gleaned from the scenario, because anyone who has ever been to a Golden Coral knows that is not a location void of temptation. In fact, it rivals the Potluck for variety, for which reason, I walked my son the full length of the buffet to find out what he wanted to eat. This meander proved my saving grace.

During our exploratory mission, the food did not fail to become animate, especially in the cases of those foods sure to cause eventual corinary blockage, or to induce indigestion such as most of us do not care to imagine. For instance, the mashed potatoes and gravy. Floating in the midst of the steam above the dynamic duo, was an angel with her halo tilted in the direction of the green vegetables, facing off austerely with a devil, gravy dripping off his pitchfork.

Angel: White potatoes are a starch. She could have three green vegetables and then some for the empty carbs in these potatoes.

Devil: Potatoes are a vegetable! And white is the color of purity!

Angel: Yes, potatoes are a vegetable, when they don't come from FLAKES! And what about that gravy? There's is absolutely no redeeming value in that gravy.

Devil: It makes people happy, doesn't it?

Angel: So do a lot of other things people shouldn't have.

Devil: Yes, but happiness makes people produce seratonin, and people with seratonin are happy, and happy people are more likely to lose weight . . .

And on the conversation usually goes, over everything from salad dressing to sorbet. If you're one of those lucky people tuned into this conversation (like I am) you leave the line with too much on your plate, and feeling like you've visited the stock market. Saturday night, though, I managed to tune them out, because Saturday night, I heard it all WITHOUT a plate.

This accidental happenstance could change the future of me and the buffet. What if went first for a salad, and then browsed the buffet beforehand, so that I could consider my options while enjoying my salad? Then, I could return to the line looking only for what I had predetermined I was going to eat, with the edge taken off of my hunger because of the salad. Dessert? Same strategy, though as previously discussed, my hubby is going to fetch that morsel for me, so that I stay out of trouble.

Is it these kinds of little life changes that really make a difference? Is it this kind of honesty with yourself that finally makes it all gel? I'm starting to think so, because tonight, when we ate out, I didn't want to come home with one more sob story. I dipped my fork in my salad dressing instead of pouring it on my salad, I chose a balanced combination of side dishes, I stopped eating when I was full, and I drank water. It was delicious--in large part, because there was no aftertaste of regret.

Well, I'll close this evening's blog on that positive note, since the kiddos are asleep, and I have some serious gift wrapping to do before the fat man makes his appearance tomorrow night. My son informs me it's not Christmas yet, because "Santa is not in the sky yet . . ." So where is the AWOL benevolent? Judging from his girth, my guess is the buffet.