Revolution of the Resolution

I generally despise New Year's Resolutions. I start strong and end weak. More appropriately, WEEK. Specifically, week three, of January. That's my end point.

Take, for example, weight loss.

January is generally a great time to lose weight. I've consumed at least five pounds of sugar and am sick of all the feasting. Lightning up the food load actually not only makes sense, it also feels good. So, strong starts in this department are easy.

My biggest problem comes around the end of the month/beginning of February. It's called "Super Bowl Party".

Even if I've managed to make it through January to this huge excuse for pigging out, I KNOW I am going to blow it during the football game. The smorgasbord of bad food is just epic. It has to be when you ask people to bring a dish to pass. Because everybody thinks the exact, same thing as they figure out what to bring "What have I been avoiding, on my diet, all month, that I am CRAVING?" Then, they MAKE IT and BRING IT.

So you have junk like chips and queso, mini-cupcakes, little smoked sausages covered with gelatinous* sauce, bundt cake with Kahlua drizzle, crescent roll pinwheels with cream cheese/Parmesan filling, and cookies, cookies, cookies.

The list is endless. It is delicious. And it is completely fattening.

And the beer? Did I mention the assortment of beer? Apparently, those who gave up drinking for New Year's think everyone wants to fall off the wagon with them.

Now, there have been years that, for various reasons, we haven't attended a Super Bowl party. You'd think that would help. But, actually, that's worse. Because my family then thinks we should have all the accouterments from the party we aren't attending right here at ground zero. And quantities shouldn't be limited.

And that means leftovers. Which get eaten over the course of several days, instead of one huge gluttony-fest and then back to normalcy.

So, I head into January fully aware of the big, fat obstacle looming in the distance. And I'm going to have to decide which choice is the lesser of two evils: party at home and deal with leftovers or attend a party and eat my weight in cheese products.

Or, maybe, instead of the lesser of two evils, which creates the lesser of my thighs?


*Yet, oh so tasty!!