Dan and I had the brilliant idea to go on diets just weeks before Christmas. Really, we’re smarter than we sometimes appear – just not this week. ‘Cause this week we’ve been counting calories up a storm.
Here’s a typical conversation in our house:
“I really want a chocolate-covered pecan,” Laura says.
“Well, have one then,” Dan replies. “What harm could one do?”
Five chocolate-covered pecans later, Laura says, “Wow. That was 115 calories down the drain.”
“Really? For that? You’d have been better off eating a salad.”
“Gee. Thanks, honey. Now, you tell me.”
At first, I was proud of us – the way we passed up lemon poppyseed muffins at our favorite coffeehouse, the way we ignored the aroma of pralines on Decatur, the way we splurged today on unsweetened iced tea and six raw oysters each (which have surprisingly few calories, I was happy to discover). But now I just think we’re stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
And I’m hungry, damn it. Hungry, hungry, hungry.
4 hours ago