It’s not my fault that I was guilty of overeating on Thanksgiving. I partially blame the aroma of my mother’s stuffing. Stupid aroma.
But would you like to know who’s really to blame?
Jillian Michaels, coach from NBC’s The Biggest Loser. I saw Jillian being interviewed during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade. Al Roker asked her what Americans could do to eat healthy this holiday her answer was, “Enjoy yourself! Eat what you want. Work out tomorrow!”
Huh? A weight-loss coach is telling the entire country to totally pig out on Thanksgiving just as long as they work out the next day? Deal!
So I ate. Then I ate some more. Then I realized dinner wasn’t even served yet. So I rested for approximately ten minutes and then resumed shoving food in my face for a good eight-hour period.
Another potent enemy of my effort to not overeat is my mother’s penchant for serving appetizers. Lots of them. There were mixed nuts, spinach squares, dip, deviled eggs, olives and celery filled with non-dairy cream cheese to fill me up pre-dinner.
Plus, I end up being my mom’s “tester” as she calls me. She makes something. I eat it. If I love it, it’s on the menu. On Thanksgiving day I ate breakfast, lunch, noshed on appetizers and “tested” the entire Thanksgiving meal prior to 3 p.m. (Burp).
I actually felt like I was drunk or something. I felt dizzy and bloated and dopey. I was convinced that I broke my gall bladder, assuming such a thing is even possible.
Miraculously, my appetite rebounded. It was time for dinner there I was salivating and banging my silverware on the table in fervent anticipation. I was salivating like Wile E. Coyote looking at the Roadrunner.
I blame Jillian. She was like the devil on my right shoulder saying, “Eat what you want. Work out tomorrow!”
So I ate. Two plates worth of Thanksgiving food including, and not limited to, breaded chicken, yams, roasted vegetables, fingerling potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, mushrooms and banana peppers.
I will give myself credit for one thing however. I did not touch the giant lasagna. Of course it helped that I’m lactose intolerant. Not even the Devil Jillian could get me to eat dairy.
But my journey wasn’t over yet. Dessert was coming. It mocked me. It dared me to just nibble. Dessert won.
Two pieces of pie later and I was lying on my bedroom floor in a fetal ball. The food acted like a hallucinogenic and I was now seeing Jillian Michaels in front of me. But there were two of her.
The first Jillian was laughing and telling me to eat whatever I wanted. The second Jillian was more like the Jillian from The Biggest Loser. She was screaming in a demonic voice telling me to, “walk harder.”
Black Friday came and I didn’t go near the shopping madness. I took the world’s longest and most punishing exercise walk. I don’t care how hard you work out post-Thanksgiving you’re still bound to still feel like a butterball, no turkey pun intended.
But as I said, it’s not really my fault.
In my mind, it’s that darn Jillian who’s the biggest loser.
Unfortunately, I just might be the biggest gainer.