My body is apparently trying to rename Christmas as Bingemas....if I eat just one more Christmas cookie.... (well, I'd like to end that with "i'll barf" or "i'll just die", but in all liklihood, I'll simply enjoy it and keep eating). I spent the weekend making brownies and cookies for holiday parties, and I don't know how it happened, but it was a modern day 7-loaves-2-fishes miracle.... I just kept putting the batter and dough into the oven, and more cookies and brownies just kept forming. Between my miracle mixing bowls and my miracle measuring cups, I'm going to need some miracle pants (preferably ones with an elastic waist) to deal with this miracle gut I've developed.
To prove just how sick I really am, I actually felt ill from the smell of the baked goods and had to retreat to the basement to do laundry until the nausea passed. Any sane person would recognize this as their body's way of saying, "Hey, fatty, enough is enough for today. Pack it up and try again tomorrow." But since I'm NOT sane, my body said "Hey, you're not nauseous anymore! You should celebrate by eating more sweets until that little bit of regurgitation and stomach acid tickles the back of your throat... and even then, just wash it down with some milk until the moment passes and keep on truckin'!" And I was doing so well with the diet too, even on Thanksgiving.... I blame the Schwanns man (everyone needs a scapegoat, right??).