It’s not until you’re watching what you eat that you realise almost all celebrations or major holidays revolve around food.
I was walking the hallowed aisles of Foster’s Camana Bay a few days ago, and in the distance, a sparkling light was beckoning me closer. Had management finally installed those disco balls I’d recommended on my customer comment card?
Sadly, no. It was, instead, the shiny foil packaging on large chocolate Easter eggs, lined up like the golden goose had come in to roost for a while.
Hadn’t it only been last month when I was navigating shelves festooned in red velvet hearts, containing a selection of truffles and other sweet delights? ‘Sugar for my sugar’, and all that?
It occurred to me that the yearly calendar is peppered with minefields of confections. January gives a brief respite from temptation – maybe because it’s the month of New Year’s resolutions – unless one has a birthday, anniversary or wedding at the start of the year. And there’s Lent, where from Ash Wednesday to Easter, you’re supposed to give up something you love. Chocolate or alcohol often fall into that top 10.
Maybe summer isn’t too bad, if you’re doing lots of activities with your kids, but Cinco de Mayo, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve and Halloween (a whole day dedicated to storied names like Snickers, Hershey’s and Skittles) are never too far away.
Some of you know by now that I lost a good chunk of weight on the WW programme last year. Only recently did it strike me how lucky I was to get on the bandwagon when I did. With no events on the calendar for months, I was able to avoid the many caloric pitfalls encountered at gala dinners until the bathroom scales showed me some love.
You’ll think I’m talking about the drinks and meals being served to guests. No, no. Nine-times-out-of-10, I’m hosting one of these things, which means I’m far too distracted to consume the quality cuisine on offer. I also watch my wine intake, because running a live auction is no fun at all when tipsy. Trust me: the maths suddenly feels like something out of ‘The Big Bang Theory’. Bazinga!
No, indeed, mine is the well-worn path to the after-party midnight nosh at the local gas station or fast food window for patties, pizza, burgers, fries, and full-sugar sodas in cups the size of flower vases. The staff at these fine establishments are no longer thrown by the sight of me entering their doors in a ballgown and heavy makeup. We’ve been here before.
Such behaviour may well have contributed to my expanding midriff in the past.
Now, events are coming back, and I’m having to navigate them as best I can. I exercise regularly and rigidly stick to a balanced diet between functions so I don’t have to weep at the sight of a welcome cocktail. So far, so good.
It always makes me laugh when people say, “You can have just one”, about anything sinfully delicious. “Everything in moderation”, is another good one. Have we met? I’ve never done anything in moderation my entire life. My middle name is Excess.
Every time I see best friend Lynne forage for chocolates in a selection box, I wonder how we have remained so close, lo these many years. She doesn’t grab a handful and hork them down like a contestant in a Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest (see: natural human behaviour). Instead, she inspects them closely, as an archaeologist might pore over a sliver of bone. She weighs the pros and cons of the ingredients: Hazelnut vs. coffee, milk vs. dark… and slowly, but surely, we enter the year 2052.
When she finally settles on her choice, she holds it ‘twixt thumb and forefinger and bites it in half, only eating that part. Not kidding. The remaining 50% then goes back in the box. For later.
Your Honour, I implore you.
One of the hardest things for me is turning my back on seasonal goods. As the young kids today say, I suffer from FOMO; that is, when it comes to holiday foods.
For example, you know that those Waitrose specialty items will only be on the shelves for a few weeks at Christmas. Once they’re gone, they won’t be back for another year. (On a side, non-food-related-note, that’s why I always have a surfeit of Christmas novelty crackers in my closet; the idea of coming up short on any 25 Dec. fills me with dread.)
Every January, I’ve got boxes of mince pies and tins of chocolate biscuits taking up space, and I’ll never get to them all without contracting Instantaneous Diabetes. Eggnog is another thing that only appears around December and I never learn my lesson with it.
I bought two large cartons last year; saved up my WW points so I could have a glass; drank it; felt nauseous; didn’t touch the rest.
So now, here I am, and Easter is just around the corner. On the one hand, I’ve still got Ferrero Rocher spheres from the festive season that I’m slowly making my way through whenever I have some spare daily points, so by the time I’ve finished them, it’ll probably be Easter 2022.
On the other hand, I just spied Cadbury Creme Eggs beautifully packaged in come-hither boxes while I was innocently searching for toilet bowl cleaner.
Worst case scenario: they’ll make great stocking-stuffers in nine months’ time.
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