In the 17 days since my buddy Jon and I decided to use the purchase of an obnoxiously expensive suit as incentive to get in shape I have gained 1.5 lbs. I would say it was the cocktails and wedding food from last weekend, but you didn’t see me on the dance floor. I absolutely destroyed it. If you told me I lost less that 3,000 calories Friday night after my sister-in-law traded nuptials, I would call you a liar right to your face. Using the calories versus calories out math, that can’t be it.
And despite my affection for whiskey, I’m honestly not much of a drinker. Can’t be getting my calories there either. I’ve been fairly consistent on the trails, although I can push my running regiment harder. My diet has left a little bit to be desired, but I’d say it’s improved from 2015. The obvious is that I’m 31 and my metabolism left me like Bowe Bergdahl left his post. But again, I don’t think that explains my tragic results to this point.
I’ve eliminated a lot of possibilities and I’m no super sleuth, but I think I have an idea of what it could be. My employer had our Christmas party on January 9th. It was ugly Christmas sweater themed almost three weeks after…uh, Christmas. Wasn’t too bad though; Sarah and I had a good time. Food wasn’t too bad either, but to be fair, I have notoriously low standards when it comes to stuffing my gullet full of things with extra gluten.
Like any other holiday party meal catered at the casino, we started off with a salad full of fresh greens and some Hidden Valley. I was hungry so I navigated my way to the bottom of the porcelain rather quickly while my lovely bride took her time, delicate with each leaf. Fast forward passed the above average roast beef that was served with below average potatoes and then you’ll find my enlightenment.
I polished off my plate and quickly began scanning the table for scraps. There were quite a few things to choose from at this point seeing as how we had only been served 5 minutes earlier. The only person’s plate that seemed appropriate to loot was Sarah’s. She graciously slid over her unfinished salad. As I went to work, the young coworker to my left asks almost sarcastically if I’d like her plate as well. The message was well received. (For the records, I also took care of half her chicken and most of her mash potatoes. I have a problem.)
See, I’ve joked about how much having kids can have an impact on your diet. Their are kids dying in Antarctica, I can’t let my daughter’s scraps go to waste. It’s the right thing to do when I snag a pizza roll off her plate when she’s not looking or hover over the trash can with their unfinished plate shoveling down a meal that no longer resembles what it once was. It’s time to take this problem seriously. No more eating off Sarah and kids’ plates!
Wait, I can’t go cold turkey. A lot less eating off their plates. Anymore epiphanies like this and I’ll be ready to be groped by a tailor by next week!