Thanksgiving (And Everything I Ate Later That Night.)

Thanksgiving has come and gone and in the tradition of making this more of a current blog about my weight "issues", I figured I'd report back.

I over ate...of course.

I held out until dinner, which was at 2PM. I began by gorging myself with all the usual Thanksgiving fare. Mashed potatoes. Squash. Turkey. Rolls. Stuffing. The whole nine yards. It was one of those situations where I tried to be cool at first. Play it as if I could contain myself like a normal human being at a dinner table with adults. This lasts through the first round. I take a break, take part in the dinner conversation (all the while plotting my next move), and then subtly start to load my plate again. Now I know this is normal during the holiday season, but I have this complex whenever I am eating now, that people are staring at me. Adding up what I am taking in. Laughing. Judging. Of course they are not. I hope.

After my second round I am fucked. The seal is broken. The dam is busted and I am off to the races. I go for thirds and fourths and even pick as the table is being cleared. At this point I am full, but I don't let a little thing like that stop me.

Even after I leave the table I poke around for anything left of the apps or that is being wrapped up in a tin or Tupperware. Stuffed mushrooms, cheese, olives. Whatever I can get my hands on.

This year I was being watched, as my food paranoia has told me. I ate at a good friend's where I have spent most holidays since we met. Today there was a friend of the family present. An elderly lady. She was sweet and actually funny. TOO FUNNY. When she saw that I was game for being funny with her, the gloves were off, and she wasn't shy about poking me about my weight. If I made a joke about being lazy and not raking the leaves at my house she would reply by saying "Well there's a shock." I had to give it to her. She had skills. Everyone would laugh and we started to make a good team. Kind of a vaudeville thing. She was old enough to have actually performed vaudeville too (Boom. Take that granny). She was one of those lively New Englanders that wasn't afraid to be the life of the party after a couple drinks. She obviously didn't know that I was the life of the party and after a while of our Two Person Show it started to get old. This was my turf. I was the star of Thanksgiving. She was getting greedy with her bits.

At one point while watching the football game, I was devouring cheese at breakneck speed. I was really in my own world when I heard, "I don't think that's in your diet Mark." She got a big laugh on that one. Now she was just busting my balls. In my head I'm like, "Okay. Relax Phyllis Diller."

That was it. I had to break up the comedy team by avoiding her the rest of the day.

When desserts came I played the "I'm Diabetic so I can't do sugar" card. Translation - I will take some home later for my aunt and eat most of it before she knows it even exists. I don't know who I am kidding with the not eating desert discipline bit. With Diabetes - mashed potatoes, gravy and rolls are just as bad, if not worse. I fool myself into thinking I am fooling everyone else when they all know.

After the crime scene is cleared I go home, have a smoke and crash on the couch. I am full and I watch TV (like every free time I get.) I am done eating. Don't need anymore food. All good.

1 HOUR LATER:

I am in the kitchen scrounging for whatever I can eat, including all the deserts. Full disclosure - I even go so far as to make pasta. Fucking pasta?! It's bad. I know. Thank God there was no pizza joints open. After I feel I've sufficiently put myself in danger of a Diabetic coma, I call it quits. I turn off the TV, send some late Thanksgiving texts and hit the sack. I'm done for the night. In bed. Ready to sleep. Goodnight world.

Hopefully I won't wake in the middle of the night for a grilled cheese with bacon...and mayo.

Happy Thanksgiving all.

Phinney