Digesting Thanksgiving Dinner

I can't look into the future. I don't know if I will win the lottery this week, or if I will ever be discovered and become a movie star, or even whether the sun will come up tomorrow. However, there are a few things I know for sure. I know that my dog will always be happy when I get home, and that I will always love my family, and that never, never, will mourners stand over my grave and say "poor thing, she was so stressed that she just starved herself to death."
From the day we are born, we are taught that food is comfort. Our first experiences with being fed are combined with being wrapped in a warm blanket and held next to our mother's heart, as she rocked and sang to us. Well no wonder that when we have a bad day the first thing we want is Oreo cookies! Am I suggesting that, from now on, as a way to remove this human trait, that we systematically blow an air horn behind all feeding infants? I think not. No...I definitely think this is a bad idea. However, as thinking adults we need to embrace the emotions that naturally flow through food, especially if we are one of the humans that God generously endowed with extra fat.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and I, for one, am thankful it is over. I have learned that having a plan is paramount to my success as a svelte angel. Together, my sister and I bought a thousand groceries in preparation for the family feast. Our challenge was to scale down quantity while our guest list was being manipulated daily. Having enough food without having too many tempting leftovers while anticipating the sum total of possible diners became a task akin to quantum physics. We divided the menu between us, and two kitchens were filled with the sounds and smells of cooking for two days. I was left unsupervised in a kitchen with most, if not all, of my favorite trigger foods--all carbs! When no one was looking, I did GREAT. I ate only what I planned, and the carb-rich leftovers were out of my house by this morning. I am proud of me.
However, the negative emotions that flowed through me surrounding the Thanksgiving meal were frightening, and this surprised me. Early on I became aware that I was spending too much time planning the menu, and it puzzled me. My initial distorted reaction to this realization was to think "it must be true" --the old, ugly impressions embedded by weight-loss groups or misinformed doctors in my past. My over-planning must be something diagnostic that proves something abnormal about me. These old thoughts have the ability to rob me of my success, in essence THEY are my weight problem. When I really drilled down into my thoughts, I realized that I sincerely was not excited about the food that was ahead. I was just over-planning the planning! I am so determined not to fail that I not only wanted an escape route, but a hatch within the escape route in case it failed. I have already embraced that my largest obstacle will be my perfectionist traits, setting unrealistic goals and pushing myself too hard--sort of like "no pain, no gain" on steroids. I didn't see this until today, when I found myself surprised at how easy it was to simply be aware of the plan and follow it. The problem is not Thanksgiving dinner, the problem is to be accountable for the calories you consume over SEVERAL days, not the one. Once I embraced that, I could just do it. The unnecessary emotions and fear, were associated with the big picture and emotional scars of my entire weight problem and the years I have spent fighting it. Somehow, someway, I need to remember that the defeatist hammer I sometimes think is poised over me is only there if I let it stay. Tomorrow I can always have a do-over. I am beginning to believe that it is really that simple. Christmas is going to be easier since I learned this.

Undressing a Thanksgiving Turkey

Tis the season to be fat. Let's face it--the holidays are about consumption, including and ESPECIALLY food. I am the main Momma, I am the turkey cooker, the main cheese whiz, the banana peeler, and the person who is responsible for creating the aroma in the house that makes my family smile and feel like the good old days. My dressing is what my kids crave, Mother's sweet potato recipe is lovingly resurrected in her memory, and Anna Beth's chocolate pie is cooked only twice a year and this is one of them. The dance of the sugar plum fairy plays on my TV, Hershey kisses ring like a bell-choir on the tube, catalogs fill my mailbox with every confection known to woman on every page. I really don't wince when I look at chocolate candy anymore--that is sooooo.....yesterday. (sigh) However, I want to cook all of those wonderful holiday sweets and treats that makes my family smile, and then makes me argue with myself in the middle of the night in front of the refrigerator. Seeing the smiles on my family's faces just doesn't cut it for me.
I love watching the Martha Stewart show around holidays. One year, I watched her show at Easter and spent the next week making individual Easter baskets out of pipe cleaners for my Easter table! After that, I wouldn't let myself watch her again. I also love to watch Mad Hungry and the diva of coronary artery disease herself, Paula Dean. I love to cook for the family at holidays, plain and simple. I have slowly allowed myself back on the Martha Stewart show, and saw her make the finest apple pie in the world yesterday. Oh, how autumnal, how lovely, how fragrant! Certainly there is nothing wrong with that! It is just a shame that it contains the sugar-drug that will set me off on cravings and set me up for failure. Evil, evil Martha, with that trim waist and that herb garden. It's plain not fair.
But, it is what it is.
Again I must have a plan. I will cook the fragrant tasties, and I will enjoy my Thanksgiving dinner with my family. I will add some really tasty healthy foods that lend themselves well to the holidays, like.....uh.....well.....let me get back to you on that. The main thing is, I MUST MUST MUST not keep leftovers this year. Inside I hear my voice whining, "but I just looooove Broccoli Rice Casserole and I only get it once a year and I love to eat it for breakfast the next day." That is one of those problem foods for me. You know what I mean, the kind that sings to you, the kind that you can't stop thinking about. I talked to a friend today who just had open heart surgery and told me how he unsuccessfully tried twice to slip out of the bed to stand at the freezer and eat ice cream out of the carton last night. Both times, his wife intervened and he didn't get ice cream. OK, like that is ever going to happen to me! I could get up and fry chicken and Dennis wouldn't know it. The dogs would, but they would be delighted. Dogs don't care if you are fat.
But I care if I am fat, so I have to choose between the holiday food and the Svelte Angel. I will enjoy my Thanksgiving dinner, every bite, without guilt. Then no matter how many children are starving in China, I will put the leftovers in the trash, padlock the refrigerator and throw away the key. I promise, because I am worth it.