PITTSBURGH (FFD) - Yesterday you ate like a king and deservedly so—you are a freaking, beautiful big fat king of your castle and kings need to indulge—every so often at least. By royal ordain, then, and by rite of Thanksgiving, indulge you royally did yesterday. It was Turkeygeddon.
You had about a good half of that twenty pound turkey, plus all the fixings that come with it. Your mashed potatoes were relayed with determination down the old food chute, which couldn’t accommodate those shovels of creamy spuds fast enough. Your stuffing mound was a delectable mine shaft, a pile of succulent ore, of which you processed like a food robber baron.
There was football to had all day and you sat in the sofa, drank your beer and tossed back the holiday spirits like Prohibition ended the moment you awoke.
And in those sane waking hours, The sound of the family watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on TV was a soothing embrace of the caloric carnage you planned to mete out to all that treats and meats that would blip on your gastrointestinal radar.
Then came thy glorious bird—thy flightless wonderful turkey. Turkeygeddon was on.
When the carnage was over, you reclined and incrementally adjusted your viewing angle on your comfy lounge chair, as your belly bulged higher and higher.
How high would your belly go?
Hell, you amassed more calories in one day than Drew Brees had accumulated career yards passing. Sleep came peacefully that night.
But, then you awoke the next moring.
“Now what?” you ask as you attempt to squeeze into those pants that fit a day ago but are now at least a size too small. Hmm. Maybe a little WD-40 will help you slide into them?
You need a practical solution (not a viscous one) to re-bound from Turkeygeddon.
You grab hold of your hairy belly and love handles and think, well, I could put up the Christmas lights—that something productive. Wait, I could eat round two today?
Of course. Why not? The fridge is packed with leftovers.
I am not hear to judge, only to inspire—maybe that is the point of the Football Fan’s Diet. However, I aim to fast today. I will eat leaf-overs, but here is how I plan to deal with the aftermath of Turkeygeddon.
I plan to go the gym. After all, food will always be the tomorrow.
I am here to say it is okay to let Thanksgiving be Turkeygeddon. That’s part of what makes it so great. However, look around the next day and you will see there are folks that get right back to their health plans.
That’s what we need to do.
These folks are the winter runners. These are the folks that are up at dawn and wearing all those layers, darting around the neighborhood while the stars are still out, and the sun has yet to peak its head.
(Yeah, I hate those folks too.)
I wish I could catch them in the morning, but I can’t. Not this fat guy. But, I will take a page out of their book.
The day after Turkeygeddon will be a return to Football Fan’s Dieting normalcy—Not a gluttonous march to January 1 and the inevitable proclamations of health resolutions that I will never keep the following year.
Don’t be a turkey. Get out there and get your health on.