The lure and the perils of Thanksgiving

As I sit here with a food hangover, I ask myself why I do this every year.

I’m “good” for months; then from Halloween to New Year’s Day, I’m like a poster child for gluttony.

It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s true. I’m an all-or-nothing kind of woman. If I’m going to do something, I don’t do it halfway. I can eat right, or I can binge. I’m not good at moderation.

It started in October, when my husband and I went on a vacation to Washington, D.C. I ate dessert every day, sometimes twice a day, and I figured all the walking would take care of it.

I didn’t buy much Halloween candy because we went to a free event with our granddaughter, Kennedy, but the key word there was free. There were hot dogs, candy and ice cream, and I sampled them all.

Thanksgiving is really thanksgorging. My husband made so many wonderful dishes, including cranberry pie and artichoke dip. I made three pumpkin pies, the only baking I do all year, and my daughter-in-law made her wonderful chocolate pie. Her stepmother cut up lots of healthy fruit — and made some delicious creamcheese Heath-toffee dip to go with it.

I was stuffed on hors d’oeuvres before I ever sat down to eat turkey, dressing and mashed potatoes, but that didn’t stop me.

It made me feel somewhat better that my daughter-in-law, her best friend and I had walked our first United Way of Central Arkansas Turkey Trot 5K that morning, which was an invigorating 3.1-mile walk. We didn’t sprint, but we kept a great pace.

I figure I walked off exactly two bites of one piece of chocolate pie. Then we had a mimosa before we went home for the family feast.

Stupidly, I weighed on Thanksgiving afternoon, just for the shock factor. It stressed me out to see the number on the scale, and I am a stress-eater. So I had a big handful of toasted pecans and another sliver of pumpkin pie with Cool Whip.

I feel compelled to eat dessert for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The Sunday after Thanksgiving, I had a piece of pumpkin pie and the last piece of cranberry pie for breakfast.

I did order a salad for lunch to try to get back on track. Then my husband and I ended up going out for pizza for supper — and came home and had pie for dessert. We split the last piece the other night, but I have about six more cans of pumpkin just begging to be used.

I read an article about intermittent fasting, and it said hunger is good, and being full all the time makes you older. At this rate, I’m going to be 150 years old by Christmas.

I went to the gym early one morning last week and promised myself I’d have more willpower from now on; then I opened the freezer at home that night.

“Oh, my gosh!” I said. There was a container of pumpkin ice cream.

“I couldn’t help it,” my husband said, sheepishly.

Well, I can’t either, so I had a big bowl.