It’s regrettable, really, that the time of year when many of us will be making a sensible-eating resolution is also the time when our homes happen to be full of shortbread, Turtles and Toffifee.
It’s everywhere at my place. Beneath the tree — yes, it’s still up — is a box of Black Magic. Some Purdy’s chocolates are on the coffee table. The fridge is home to some eggnog and the buffet is home to some Bailey’s. And Bailey’s, so far as I know, is not included on any menu by Jenny Craig.
At this moment, my home probably contains 7.5 million calories above the recommended daily intake for a woman of my size. Were it a person, it would be unable to move, and probably napping much of the time, given its seasonal indulgence.
I’d like to think I could start off the new year by committing to a more sensible diet, but there are rum balls staring me down.
“Why would anyone make a resolution related to food on January 1st?” I asked the husband.
“What’s that?” he said. He was sitting in front of the television, licking his fingers. He had just polished off a third of a cheese ball and one and a half turkey sandwiches with stuffing and mayo.
“Did you say you wanted some food?”
“No,” I said. “I said I wondered why people feel compelled to make eating resolutions on January 1st. That’s crazy. I mean, take a look around.”
The husband looked around. His eyes caught sight of a bowl of Christmas candy and a jar of cashews.
“Everything looks good to me,” he said. “Did you want some nuts?”
Yes, I told him, I did want some nuts. But what I really needed was some resolve. You know, to look beyond the cashews and instead, in the direction of the fridge, where perhaps, just perhaps, there would be some spinach and grapefruit lurking.
What I needed was salad in place of cinnamon balls, and water instead of the cocoa. You know, the cocoa with the marshmallows and chocolate shavings.
“But I don’t want water,” I muttered under my breath.
“What’s that?” asked the husband. “Did you say you want something with butter?”
Indeed, of course, I did. And something else with caramel sauce and coconut filling and peanut brittle sprinkles.
To heck with the sensible eating plan, at least for now, I say.
The spinach will just have to get in line — behind the rum balls and the Bailey’s.
