On a recent "holiday" (okay, St. Patrick's-and I apologize to all of you faithful readers who were expecting a special St. Paddy's Day post, but get over it, will ya) the wage slaves at work participated in a pot luck. I excluded myself, as I'm sticking to my "bring my own lunch to work" policy-it saves money and calories and if I stick to it, I'll soon look like my old self, and avoid the Jackie Gleason look I feared I was fast approaching.
So anyway, faithful readers, it was the middle of the week and about noon time the food was presented on the back table, from which I now am only a few feet away (my desk ain't called the temptation desk for nothing) but in spite of Satan's feast being so near, I resisted (proud of me, aren't you?).
Now, I guess I should emphasize the nature of the "food" that was so generously shared by my co-workers. Some of it (a little) was in the good or acceptable category of salad and baked chicken (one small bowl of salad and one skinny baked chicken, enough for the two people who got to it first) but the rest consisted of store bought cookies and cakes and chips. On discovering this, the general consensus was that too many people took the easy store-bought way out, but this failed to dampen their enthusiasm for the extravagant white flour, sugar, shortening and fried potato/corn spread that lay before them in all its caloric glory.
They loaded up their flimsy paper plates with the stuff, even the ones on a "diet", and came back for more. I know of the health problems of many of them (you know how people can't help talking about their latest visit to the doctor) and even those with borderline diabetes, heart disease and obesity piled it on. One who continuously fears her behind is out of control nevertheless less kept making an appearance behind me, her excuse being that "I can't get enough of these frosted cookies!"
One co-worker (besides myself) did have the will-power to say no. He too had brought lunch from home, and as he surveyed the scene of apocalyptic pastry before him, he took a plate, getting ready to dig in, when he hesitated. "No, I brought lunch," he said, put the plate down, and walked away. Bravo! I thought.
After those first ten minutes had gone by, one of the managers brought in a gigantic sheet cake as a surprise. It was so big it needed its own table, which was quickly positioned next to the other one. After eating his own lunch, my co-worker with the will power was soon back to take a glance at the lasted arrival. "Wow, that's big!" he declared. "I LOVE cake. I really shouldn't. I'm full and not hungry at all, but I'm gonna have a BIG piece anyway." And he proceeded to cut himself a humongous slice of the monster. Those who had already had their fill of the other goodies also returned for some of the Big Cake. They could barely walk by that time, of course, but even in their lethargy they came and got their share.
After everyone else was safely collapsed in their chairs in sugar induced comas, I went outside to eat my apple and whole wheat bread peanut butter sandwich.
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