Monday, August 10, 2009

The Deli

So my mom was heading off on a trip with her sister and wanted to take me to eat the day before she left. When I arrived at my aunt's house I found them both struggling with several huge brown bags.

"What's in those?" I asked.

"Snacks for the trip," said Mom.

I took a peek. The bags were filled with chips and cookies and donuts and crackers and just about every kind of store bought processed snack food you could name.

"You're taking all this? But you're only going to be gone a few days. And I thought the doctor told you that you have to lose twenty pounds."

"It was twenty," Mom replied, "but now it's thirty. Anyway I'm not going to spoil the trip by worrying about it. I'll lose the weight later when we get back."

She'd mentioned a few days before that we would go to the little Mexican place I like so much, but when the day finally arrived, she announced that she and her sister had gone to the same restaurant the day before. I was looking forward to the taco plate -two shredded beef tacos with rice and beans- but it just wasn't to be. Instead we went down the street to a Jewish deli I'd not been to for at least ten years.

The club sandwich was recommended and accepted, though 11 bucks for a mere sandwich without soup or salad seemed like a lot to me. I had a choice of sides, and at first went for the potato salad, but was thinking maybe coleslaw would be the better option. For some reason, though, any hope of staying on a healthy eating plan (even if it's just a delusional one) goes out the window when I'm in a restaurant. Some kind of wimpy salad and yogurt combo at McDonalds? Forget it, it's Big Macs and fries all the way. So, contemplating eating a sandwich sans a big pile of deep fried spuds, I asked the tall waitress exactly what kind of fries they served.

"Steak fries, and they're good!"

Well, scratch the coleslaw and potato salad, I opted for the killer potatoes.

This Deli has a pastry department that you pass on the way out. I knew I wasn't going to stop and look there and certainly not after consuming several pounds of pure fat, but I had no control over Mom, whose browsing at the goodies soon lead to ordering some of the seductive sweet stuff.

Inevitably she turned to me and asked what I wanted to take home with me. I firmly said "Nothing", but soon found myself holding a paper bag containing giant cookies and assorted muffin-sized cakes. "For a snack later" Mom insisted. "You'll enjoy it."

Later that evening I did enjoy it, and to my dismay and horror, found that while watching television I'd consumed the entire bag. Well, I'll lose the weight "later".

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