Thursday, November 22, 2007

This Thanksgiving, “Have tastes of the things you really love, but don't overdo it.” Also, “Bring along a tasty guilt-free dish… like fresh fruit salad!” So says an e-mail my fiancée sent me from Hungry Girl -- Tips and Tricks… For Hungry Chicks.

Thanks, Adelphia but I’m a dude. I need A Guy’s Plan… for a Hungry Man.

Besides, I know how to handle my nutritional needs for Turkey Day. Take last year, for example. I ran a good long distance that morning so my body was burning calories like fiery magma consuming anything that should fall into its volcanic alimentary canal. So gimme some more stuffing and a second helping of my chocolate pecan pie. White meat, dark meat? No match for my manly metabolism.

As it turned out, while the stress of dealing with my crazy out-of-town relatives and maneuvering my mom’s wheelchair through my sister’s crowded apartment demanded plenty of energy, it may have also distracted me from gobbling gluttonously. Or perhaps it was introducing my girlfriend to the family that made Mikey maintain moderation.

So that Friday -- what the hell? -- the day after Thanksgiving and I was actually famished. We stopped off that morning at Norm’s Diner, and I indulged my excessive XY appetite with the Lumberjack’s Breakfast. Yeah, damn right, I told Adelphia, I am gonna eat all this: Three eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, fries, waffles and pancakes. And I knew I’d be let back into the He-Man’s Club when I joined the Clean Plate Club. That’s how we dudes do it.

I made it into the parking lot when it hit me. “Ohh,” I said. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Are you gonna puke?” Adelphia said.

No, I said, grabbing my grease-engorged gut. I was gonna be okay. I could take it. I wouldn’t let her see me wince. But man, you gotta be a maniac to manage a manatee-sized meal.

This year thing will be different. On Thanksgiving morning, I agreed to run Adelphia’s wimpy Turkey Trot 5k with her (pfft, 3.1 miles). And I won’t have to deal with my mom’s wheelchair, and a lot of crazy relatives can’t make it to LA this year. Plus, everyone’s met and loves my fiancée, so there’s nothing to worry about. Also, I only baked one chocolate pecan pie, not two.

Those are the reasons I agreed to take it easy with my eating, both during and after the meal. Not because of Adelphia’s Hungry Girl e-mail, or because I learned any lesson from last year or nuthin’. No way, man.


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