Holiday treats

OK, can we talk about the fact that over the past couple weeks, approximately 1 metric ton of cookies, cakes, muffins, tarts, cupcakes, caramel popcorn, candy, brownies, pies, christmas-tree-shaped rice krispie treats, and various other assorted fatmaking treats have been delivered to my office and subsequently found their way into my stomach. Literally, the sweets and crap are overflowing out of the JB kitchen and into reception. While I know I really shouldn't complain about the deliciousness of all of these generous goodies, I am beginning to feel a bit like Gretel walking into the JB Gingerbread House each morning to go to work. I just get tubbier and tubbier and basically wait for my inevitable fate to be basted, thrown in the oven, and served up for dinner.

What can I do to prevent this?? Self-control? PLEASE. Any of you the least bit acquainted with the HJ know the whole "self-control" option effectually phased itself out after freshman year in the dorms. I believe "hedonism" is the word. Some have gone so far as to liken my eating habits to that of a goldfish. A goldfish, for those not familiar, will continue to eat if there is food in front of it, without stopping, to the point that it could ostensibly eat itself to death. I fear that my goldfish-eating tendencies are reaching critical mass. Clearly, relying on the strength of my self-control isn't going to do shit.

So, excercise right? This morning I actually woke up at 7am and took a 30-minute jog around the neighborhood! Great, right? I also ate some chocolate-orange cake, a cookie, and a piece of chocolate, all before lunch. I would have to run a 10k each morning to work off what I eat in the course of a day in the office.

So, maybe when I leave the office and go home for the holidays there will be some relief from all of this food madness? Oh no. Think again, my friend. I am going home to visit my parents, specifically, my MOM. Who, while admitting I am getting a bit "softer" as of late, will feed me to the point that I can eat no more. We will eat. A lot. Which is, honestly, the most fantastic thing I could ask for. I love food, right! My mom makes the best lasagna, we go to Chinatown for dim sum, lunch up in wine country... are you kidding?? It's going to be the best!

Until suddenly, it's January. The food drunk has worn off. And my jeans no longer fit.

Fuck.

Fire up the oven; Hansel - I'm not going to make it.