Fortunately, this holiday season did not trigger a new search for expandable waist pants. My overeating was sporadic and there was no fatal wound as there was in 2009. That year my “Lost Weekend” lasted two weeks. I ate golden cake with double chocolate icing for dinner, five times. I devoured 13 velvet cupcakes with lemon vanilla topping. I made a dozen Blondie brownies disappear with a “poof!” – the last five, hard as rocks nearly cracked my teeth. I imagined each Blondie was a small hero sandwich on extra crusty bread and added a spoonful of Hellmann’s mayo for realism. To balance my meals, I noshed on an assortment of nuts in a party basket the size of a catcher’s mitt and three jumbo bags of lime flavored tortilla chips, my favorite, with black bean dip.
My ruinous descent began a week after New Year’s 2009 at Lincoln’s birthday celebration at my apartment. Unknown to me, three guests were extraordinary cooks who generously baked sweets and it seemed everyone else at the soiree raided overstocked bakeries and grocery shops. At the end of the night, the last detail left my house in a pack like that part in the circus when all the clowns keep coming out of the little bitty car. Except this time in reverse. One of Lincoln’s friends was driving home to Staten Island, and word flew round the room ~ “Ride!” A gaggle of Staten Islanders jumped on the offer to avoid the multi-hour subway ferry trip. Two forgot sweaters in their haste, and no one took any food home.
This left me with my own personal bakeshop, and I was the shop’s only customer. I waste nothing. Finding a free newspaper triggers an internal parade in my heart. I was obligated to eat it all. Adding to my plight, the New York Giants lost to the Philadelphia Eagles the next day. My awful depression led to three straight golden cake dinners – ate same dinner two more times later in the storm. I thought I was being good by drinking water instead of milk with the pastry, but the way I figured it, each meal was still in the 2500 to 3000 calorie range.
On the twelfth night, I ate the last brownie. It took a while, my back teeth battled to bite through it, but after enthusiastic “gonna crack your teeth” chewing it was done. Overall, I had eaten the equivalent of a dozen or more Entenmann’s Pineapple Crunch Cakes. My belly felt funny. I didn’t go through withdrawal because I don’t crave sweets, but when they’re there…
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Thomas’s Blog: Yorkville Stoop to Nuts
