There was some cursing at my house this morning. A few of you may recall a promise I made a couple of weeks ago: If I failed to lose a pound in a week, I’d wear a T-shirt saying ‘Don’t feed me’ for the following week.
Those of you who saw me Friday night at the Y’s fundraising dance might think beverages are to blame for falling point-two pounds short this week. You’d be wrong. I wasn’t inebriated, I was drunk on the joy I feel when I’m supporting a good cause. That’s just the kind of guy I am.
No, the blame is Dave Matheison’s. A visit from my colleague and his girlfriend Saturday night seemed like a good occasion to whip up some food. To my credit, I didn’t have one of the gourmet cupcakes I picked up for dessert at the store (OK, I had a bite, but just one). I did have goat cheese with blueberries and cinnnamon on crackers, however, as well as a wrap bursting with potatoes, cauliflower and chickpeas, cooked up with tika masala sauce. Hot damn, was it good. I might be a bust for Biggest Loser, but I’ve got a shot at Masterchef.
The truth is, it’s not Dave’s fault, it’s mine. If I hadn’t followed last week’s weigh-in with two cheat days, my minor indulgence Saturday wouldn’t have stopped a big result today.
So it’s T-shirt time. When I finish this, I’m going to make a few phone calls and see how quickly someone can print up a T-shirt for me. I’ll be wearing ‘Don’t feed me’ tomorrow if I have to write it on a white undershirt with a Sharpie.
Let this be a lesson to all the kids out there. Life has consequences. Don’t promise to wear garments with stupid slogans on them, ever.
This is not an advice column. Please consult a medical expert or nutritionist for sound dietary advice. Eric Sparling is an Amherst Daily News reporter, and former senior editor at Oxygen, a women’s fitness magazine.
