If this weekend taught me anything it is that although my eating was quite good, and I entered the weekend with a strong 2 hour workout Friday night, my sense of fun is like a really comfortable T-Shirt that I can slip on with the ease of blinking your eye. In the same bar that I watched the Yankees win the World Series with a seltzer water, I watched the USA team fail against Ghana with great friends. The bartender, also a friend, informed us that because of an inventory error this particular brand of beer would be free. Free beer? Chants of "U-S-A?" Even a judiciously used vuvuzela? Ummmmm, Jersey Shore, or Upper East Side of NYC, no matter, that T-Shirt fit me effortlessly. I tried to stem any further damage with healthy meals before and after.
Sunday morning I met the ladies of London at a pub for the atrocious England vs. Germany game, and sipped some tomato juice. Sunday afternoon back to my cardio for 40 minutes, and then I was summoned by friends to another Bermuda Triangle of mine, this one 20 blocks north - Brother Jimmy's and Doc Watsons. With a great Irish seisiun going on in Doc Watsons I decided that this would be my Mardi Gras, my "Fat Tuesday" before Lent. The game that I would limit myself to 7 drinks per week with an out clause to add :20 minutes of cardio to my exercise was just that, a game, however, well-intentioned. It had no basis in reality.
So, until I make my goal, I am not drinking. "Drinking" is the operative, plural, word here because there will be rare times when the social occasion calls for a toast of wine, or a celebratory (single) beer. But, it will be rare. As much as I want to say that I am going off the sauce 100% again like My Vegan Quest, I also want to be realistic, and not a nudge in these social situations where refusing one drink would create rancor and disharmony (OK, that's a slight exaggeration). Basically, it is grown up time until I hit the 225 lbs mark.
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