We are thick into it now. Shortly after Halloween begins the most perilous time of the year. It is a time beset with pitfalls on every side, a huge compendium of mis-steps, false promises, good intentions, and, finally, complete surrender. I'm speaking of course of "Cheese and Cookie" season.
From now until roughly the end of the Super Bowl, a person my age has to always be on the lookout for food opportunities. Carefully weighing the pros and cons of each tidbit becomes the hugest exercise in self-delusion ever invented. And believe me, huge is as huge does.
I thought I would be clever this year, and postpone the inevitable burst of exercise and "oh my Gawd these pants weren't this tight last year!" I thought if I stared the workout program in October I could sail through the season with the smuggest of smiles, waving rather aloofly at the little people that didn't plan their gastronomy in advance. But it's a sad fact that my plan has backfired, leaving me facing the real prospect of Large Family Dinner where I will be treated to three green beans and an olive, wondering if there's time to get in ten extra minutes on the elliptical clothes-hanging device before work.
Portion control is everything. Lay off the sweets. Leave some for the next guy. So ashamed.