Acts of contrition

Oh, my body, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee. And I detest of all my sins and overindulgences because of your overdimpledness...

This week, I'm just hoping I held the line.

Last Wednesday morning, the scale said I was down three pounds -- to 165.5 from my original weight. Yay. Yeah. Whatever. I knew the true test would come Thursday and the days that followed when my menu of brown rice and other whole grains, yogurt, fresh fruit and vegetables would be usurped in a coup of mythical proportions. Or rather, mythical portions.

My sister, my cousin and my niece really weren't interested in a dieter's Thanksgiving. The final menu:

Brined oven-roasted turkey and gravy
Ham
Cornbread dressing
Cranberry, pineapple and walnut relish
Blue cheese-and-bacon mashed potatoes
Greens
Homemade white dinner rolls
Pumpkin bread
and
Sweet potato pie
All washed down with beer and a wine.

Sirens. Klaxons. Flashing lights. Diet busted.

I tried to pile my plate so that I could still see plate. I didn't go back for seconds. I treated it like I'd gone out for a holiday dinner at an excruciatingly delicious restaurant and not like there were 30 pounds-worth of leftovers easily accessible in the fridge. I made sure to hit the gym the next day. Will it be enough?

My next scheduled weigh-in is Thursday. We'll see.