It’s a free-for-all, people, an absolute, god-forsaken free-for-all.
It’s as though getting this whole plan for physical fitness and dietary wellness has absolved me of any conceivable sin committed in this unholy window of time between deciding to turn over a new leaf, and actually revolving said leaf. I have a plan, I am earnestly committed to that plan, and hey, it’s not my fault the U.S. Mail is slow, is it? I’m just in a holding pattern here until the program arrives. So until it does arrive . . .
Life is the Fair. I am the Templeton, not so fair. If it’s bad, unhealthy, ill-advised, fatty, greasy, salty, chocolate-y, served in a paper bag, part of a meal-deal, on happy-hour special, preceded by the word “loaded,” or not nailed-down then I’ll take two. If it’s good, healthy, on a doctor’s list, leafy and green, nutrient-packed, vita-whatever, cleansing, healing, hydrating, low-fat, low-sodium, low-life, then y’know, I think I’ll pass.
Although I’ve committed Blobbery on any number of occasions in the past, I’ve become especially flagrant this week. I’ve taken the idea of the last indulgent supper before a crack-down diet to its most incomprehensible extremes. This week alone I had queso and chips for dinner last night, and the night before. On Free Pastry Day this Tuesday, I ran to Starbucks like by “free pastry” they meant “secret to everlasting life.”
And Facebook friends already know about the armistice I declared last week in the insufferable battle with Donut Thursdays at the office. One donut does not a cease-fire constitute! Since I’m really an advocate for peace, I ate a twist and a round. (Just mail my Nobel Prize, please. I don’t want to go all Kevin Smith on the flight to Oslo.)
A veritable smorgasbord.