Off The Wagon

I’m pretty good about my eating most of the time . . . really.  I do the no wheat, no dairy, no soy, no fat, egg whites for breakfast and smoothies with disgusting ingredients regime like a champ.  I walk & do Pilates regularly.  But it’s December, and I’ve now leaped off the wagon with a bound.

The Snyder’s buffalo wing pretzel pieces started it off . . . or maybe it was the gingerbread people cookies at New Morning Bakery.  I forget.  But the long slide has begun, and there’s a whole list of seasonal must-haves coming up, all containing wheat, dairy and lots of fat, preferably butter. 

In our family, the Christmas season is an extended trip down memory lane.  The buttery sugar cookies remind me of my grandmother, and the eggnog is a family tradition--my grandfather and then my Dad always made it.  Totally killer stuff—many are the tales of the eggnog.  My Mom always makes pizzelles, and so I have to make them because without them the house won’t smell like anise.  Not an option.  Then there’s the annual making of the hot fudge for presents.  So many spoons to lick, so little time.

But here’s the thing.  I don’t want to be having the sameoldsameold conversation with myself in January.  It’s the same and it’s old and I’m tired of it.  So I’m going to enjoy myself for the next two weeks, but with restraint  The wagon’s in sight, and that’s cool.  I’m just off for just a bit, explorin’ the Christmas food terrain.

Time for a cookie.