I'm a baaaaad girl

I got through the holidays like a champ. I passed on the holiday party indulgences. My Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners were eaten in modest portions, and no seconds. I walked by the Hartzler's Egg Nog in the dairy case without a second thought. I dodged the sweet bullets even while I was deep in the trenches as a cookie-making machine. In the end, I did not gain a single pound during those harrowing two months.

So why...why did Superbowl weekend prove to be a formidable foe?

It began on Friday. After a long day in trial, my husband picked me up from the office to take my stressed-out body home. The game plan was to have leftover homemade Indian cuisine...saag paneer, I recall. Yet my husband--aka The Great Underminer--suddenly announces he wanted pizza and headed to Dewey's, the new pizza joint that opened up the street.

I was too tired to protest. It didn't help that the place had a liquor license and carried an extensive wine selection. Or that the menu featured specialty pizzas containing goat cheese. I ordered the small Green Lantern pizza: Light mozzarella cheese (hey, it's LIGHT), garlic, mushrooms, goat cheese, artichoke and pesto. It was so delish it was evil. The crust was like puff pastry; the goat cheese like heaven's own pillows. I ate half of it for dinner. And then the other half for breakfast on Saturday, no doubt negating the two hour workout earlier that morning.

And then there was Sunday. Oh God, Sunday.

First of all, I'm not a football fan and had no plans to attend any Superbowl parties. In fact, I put together a Sunday dinner menu comprised of "healthy" Superbowl foods: baked chicken breast nuggets marinated in nonfat hot wing sauce, fresh low fat bleu cheese dressing and three small baked potato skins made with lowfat cheese and Greek yogurt. Who knew that it would be the preceding four hours that culminated in my climactic downfall.

I accepted a girlfriend's invitation to join her for some anti-Superbowl fun at the local hangout and watch Puppy Bowl. Who can resist puppies and a kitty half-time show? But first, we needed lunch. Through a series of events outside my control, we found ourselves noshing at Melt. But I am not entirely blameless. I mean, I didn't need to order the Big Popper sandwich (cheddar cheese, cream cheese and chopped jalapeno peppers sandwiched between two thick slices of bread then battered and deep fried and served with a side of fresh berry preserves) with fries. And two glasses of Pinot Grigio. I won't even get into the free drinks that were adoringly presented to me at Puppy Bowl.

So, I have some major atoning and toning to do to make up for what was most certainly my first epic relapse for '09. I tell you, sometimes I long for the old days, for simpler times when even weight loss techniques were simple: