In a previous post I thought this past superbowl sunday would prove to be a real test of my will power. Well, If that weekend was any indication, I need some more will power...bucket loads.

I fell of the wagon with a zest normally reserved for children and candy. My diet fell to the way side like a rock in Lake Holder-closer. It was a display the likes I had not given in a quite some time. It all started on Saturday. First thing in the morning I did great - no problems, then somehow between lunch and dinner It all came falling down. I agreed to dine with my family at a local "hot wings" spot. Mistake number one, right there. I then start the night off with a beer and ka-plow, we're off the the races!

I had a tray of 50 wings sat in front of me and I layed into them like a boulder crushing a straw house! I did have help with them, but I still ended up with an impressive bone yard on my plate after dinner had concluded. Then, after one last beer I headed home only to break into my wife's chocolate stash like hungry dog tearing into a steak. Oh, the horror, the humanity of it all. I will admit this - It tasted so damn good and the same time I felt guilty that I so easily threw my reclamation project to the side. The night cap was  a few remaining chocolate kisses. Finally, saturday's carnage was over...only to give way to sunday's blood bath.

I not only fell of the wagon, I jumped off and ran the other direction. Get this - morning coffee followed by countless mini-donuts. Then lunch came around and I decided to empty my cupboard off all the pretzels and chips I could find. Thinking, Aw shucks It's just a little cheating, I gulped down a turkey sandwich that a king could be proud of. Whew! When will this display end?

The night of the big game I helped cooked dinner at the inlaws house - home made tacos, dip, rice, chips, seven layer dips, guacomole, pepsi and salsa! I showed no mercy and I slayed my plate time and time again. Then came the biggie! Chocolate cake and more chocolate cake. I don't think I'll ever know just how many calories died so I could eat like Jabba-the-Hut. And now, the monday after - what's a guy to do? Yeah, I ate all that, so what?

I'll tell you what, it's time to put on my jogging shoes again and catch-up to the wagon and jump aboard and stay put. I just need to start back up like last weekend never happened. I have not dared step on the scale for fear of what the damage might be, so let's just say I'll be working extra hard at the gym this week and next week and so on and so forth.

I've got my work cut out for me, all the while looking back on this past weekend with a fondess only a professional eater could appreciate.      ( Belch! )

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