Good God, Quit Tempting Me!

I'm not Rachel Ray. The kitchen and I have never been what you might call symbiotic. Still, my kids never starved. Au contraire, because of my short-order skills, they knew restaurant etiquette before they could crawl. Since the kids have grown up and perfected their cooking chops, my skills have simmered to a fine fragrant reduction. Add 3 cups couldn't care less, 2 cups clueless, and one entire carton of cooktard. Throw all that into a 60" baked dish, infused with a little holiday zest, and you get one saucy piehole I like to call ME.

While I didn't inherit the Great Cooks in America gene, I did acquire the Shovel-it-all-in gene, and that makes it particularly hard when it comes to the holidays—which, if you didn't know, is designed solely to make big fat gobblers out of us all. I hesitate to pooh-pooh our Thanksgiving food fest and the whole reason we celebrate it (which is--um, why?), but is there nothing more diet friendly than the celery tray? Between turkey and potatoes smothered in gravy, marshmallows, jellies, breads and rolls, all manner of casseroles, and incredibly edible pies, all your weight loss and maintenance efforts are shot from here to Memorial Day. Who's in charge of this conspiracy?

This T-Day, I called on my dormant inner chef for a healthy alternative. I made our dinner's single diet friendly concoction of green beans almondine, which I scarfed up along with at least one helping of everything else within reach. And I mean everything. My lack of willpower is exceeded only by my disdain for it (That, and my penchant for pies--and the Swiss Alps of whipped cream).

But enough is enough. World, I am on a mission to eat healthy for the next three weeks—until Christmas. I know that's as realistic as Santa dropping a Lexus LS down my chimney (I mean, since I don't have a chimney); but I don't want to feel like a stuck Christmas pig when I hit the holiday parties in my sexy yuletide frock. I don't want my New Year's resolution to be once again "I vow to lose excess baggage in the winter months even though it's fucking cold, and I don't want to take my clothes off, especially to get into workout gear, which is my least favorite outfit, when I'd rather be cuddled up by the fire (if I had one) with a good book and a handsome man."

My will has been shaky in November, but I hereby resolve that you people will not be able to tempt me with candied trail mix, honey-roasted nuts, warm chewy cookies, decadent fudge, toffee Florentines, pumpkin lattes, or any other wicked seasonal confection.

Seriously, you turkeys, give a girl a break!
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