A few weeks ago the topic at my Weight Watchers meeting was holiday parties and how to withstand temptation. I sat smug in my seat. That doesn’t apply to me, I thought. I’m going to, what, one holiday party? I’m not Ms. Social Butterfly, I thought. I’m essentially a stay at home mom, glorified with a bit of this and a bit of that, but really. And anyway, I have willpower, I have self control. I’ve done this before. I handled a wedding and yummy next-day brunch back in early September, I can do this no sweat.
That was before I found out about yesterday’s holiday party for Damian’s class, last night’s Hanukah party, tonight’s dinner party (we were the hosts), tomorrow’s kiddy birthday party, and Monday night’s holiday party for Dan’s show. Oh, and another dinner party Tuesday night. And maybe a brunch to be planned and there was in fact a party last weekend too. And my birthday’s next Monday and I’d be sorely disappointed if I didn’t have a sumptuous dinner to celebrate.
Last night, I was going to be so good. So careful. I knew I could. I’ve done it before. That was before I tasted the homemade sweet potato latkes. And the beef brisket. And the creamy fruit tart. But mostly those latkes. Wow yeah. How many points do you think are in five of those fried suckers?
But boy were they good. And sometimes good is worth it, you know? It just is. Losing weight, being careful, that’s all well and good and yes, important in the long run. And I still feel committed to that. But if I let those latkes go with only a taste, would that deprivation make me feel virtuous or frustrated? I think there’s a point where you have to say yes to food. Yes to pleasure. Yes to living completely in whatever moment and near whatever wonderful food tray you find yourself. And then you eat apples and Asian pears and a dab or two of goat cheese on your fibrous Wasa crackers the next day and you fill yourself up on broccoli and kale too and oh yes, you get back on that exercise equipment and sweat to the steady rhythm of your feet swishing in those tracks and your arms pulling in constant point-counterpoint, back and pull and back and pull. You weigh and measure and feel your body reshape itself and you feel your muscles expand as your waist contracts and it’s all good. But you had that indulgence and that was good too.
I’m a little nervous, I admit. I’m afraid I’ll plow right off that wagon into the snowdrift of fat and sugar and too-exhausted-to-exercise-today. My size six jeans will become size eights again and on up the scale. But no. I think I can have this under control. Eating like this is blissful, but only for a short while. Then it becomes too much. I’m ready to eat carefully again tomorrow. Or, well, maybe the next day. How does January 1st sound?
I got on the Weight Watchers scale this morning after last night’s latke extravaganza. (How does thirty points sound?) I’d gone up four tenths of a pound. The same four tenths I’d lost the week before. My leader asked, “Had you planned to maintain during the holidays?”
Plan? No. Is it a good idea? Maybe, yeah.
(But I will eat carefully before and after parties, and I will oh yes get back on that Nordic Track. I miss it. It misses me.)
Posted by Tamar at December 20, 2003 10:52 PM