"I think I'm going to get myself a locket with a photo of Julia Child."
Two nights ago, the Serious Eats crew met up for beer and burgers at a tugboat that's been converted to a bar on the Hudson River. As I am the Serious Eats overlord (at least that's what Mr. Kuban has named me) I thought it was only right to buy the beer and food. As is my wont, I ordered what I thought was the right amount of food for ten people: eight burgers, four hot dogs, and four orders of fries, in addition to the beer. The burgers were big and not particularly juicy, the kosher hot dogs were grilled and split, and the frozen french fries had some Old Bay seasoning on them for added color and flavor. In short, it was decent backyard barbecue grub, no more and no less.
We were all having a good time eating and drinking and talking, but after about an hour I looked over at the tray of burgers and realized there were two untouched burgers and a full basket of Old Bay fries. I had already had half a burger, half a hot dog, and a few more french fries than I should have, along with half a bottle of Corona (as you have probably realized by now, I am not much of a drinker), so I certainly had had enough to eat.
At least that's what my full stomach was telling me. But the old Ed, the one who could seemingly eat tall buildings in a single bite, the one who could keep eating until there was nothing left on the table, kept staring at those burgers and fries, thinking what a waste it would be to just leave them there cold and uneaten. It was like that scene in Animal House when the late John Belushi was deciding whether to have sex with his passed-out date and two figures appeared on his shoulders, a devil imploring him to get on with it, and an angel trying to get him to stop.
I feel those same devils and angels are ever present whenever I eat. Those leftover burgers and fries were clearly the devil. But I didn't snarf down any of them, mostly because, at that moment, a busboy came over to our table and completely cleared it.
I'd like to tell you that the busboy saved me from myself, but truthfully I think the angel of moderation would have ruled the day anyway. At least that's what I hope, because I find myself in these situations constantly, and if I give in to my worst impulses I am almost certainly headed back to north of 250. So damn you, devil of compulsive overeating. To keep you at bay, I think I'm going to get myself a locket with a photo of Julia Child, the serious eaters' patron saint of "everything in moderation." And whenever temptation is upon me, I will just clutch that locket and the moment will pass.
Let's see if I could have used that locket this week. After my huge weight loss last week, staying even at 214 would be a victory. My interim weigh-ins this week indicated I had a decent shot at doing just that. Here we go: 214. I dodged a bullet, or should I say a locket. Where would I find a Julia Child locket anyway?
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