Are you gonna eat that?

I approached Thanksgiving with a fair amount of caution this year. My diet has been successful so far. I can look into the dressing room mirror and not fear a wayward harpoon stabbing me through the saddlebags. And while I seem to have completely lost the already meager breasts I had, it's a small price to pay for fitting into a size 6.

So as I rolled out of bed on Thursday, I had every intention of exercising moderation at the dinner table. At about 5pm the family sat down to the table and my stomach rumbled slightly. As the plate of warm, buttery rolls made their way to my end, the last shred of resolve I had quickly evaporated. There wasn't a square inch of my plate visible under the mound of food that I smothered in cranberry sauce. I tore into that plate like a wild jackal. At one point I think I tried to eat my mother's hand as it reached for a helping of spinach casserole. And dessert........well I have no excuses for my behavior.

By six pm, sprawled out on the table with a turkey leg in one hand and a half-eaten plate of pumpkin bread pudding in the other, I decided to cut my losses and spend an extra hour at the gym the next day.

God give me strength to make it through Christmas.