Who Invited Her?
After stuffing my face with Aunt Tilly’s World Famous Pecan Pie, my eyes begin to blur and belly swell. I’m amazed that I could ingest pounds of food equal to that of a newborn baby. I can feel globs of gravy coursing through my veins and chunks of food particles settling in my gut. My taste buds are exhausted and my brain numb. If I move too swiftly, I could erupt into a muted collage of paste. I feel both satisfaction and regret. Satisfaction for the volume of food I was able to conquer. Regret for the same reasons. That was last Thanksgiving.
This year, my approach to the carnival of food will be different. I will sip my O’Doul’s and pass on the hors d’oeuvres. My plate will be light with turkey and greens. No gravy. I will plan on a strict diet and regimen of exercise for months to come. I will be disciplined. I will remember what I felt like this time last year.
As I sip on my near-beer, Aunt Tilly arrives. Her coat still on and her World Famous Pecan Pie in hand, she walks over to me and smiles. Oh well, maybe next year.