Cheese Patch Indeed

I remember being exhausted and giggly one night after working several days in a row during race on no sleep and having a conversation with Pattie and Dar. We were talking about the nicotine patch and I simply stated that I needed a cheese patch. It’s probably not funny to you, but come by after you haven’t sleep for a few days and have been dealing with drunken race fans for almost a week and I’ll tell you again. You’ll think it’s hysterical. Promise. It’s all in the delivery.
Jorma and I have been on a diet, for oh…about three years now. Sometimes it’s the South Beach, sometimes it’s the Midnight Ice Cream Diet, (when I’m pregnant), sometimes it’s the Bob Greene Diet and sometimes it’s the Let’s Eat Taco Bell Until We Are Completely Sick Of It Diet. For the past few months we’ve been on The Eat Healthy and Work-Out Diet. Or at least Jorma has. I jumped on the bandwagon officially about two months ago and I’m doing pretty well. I’ve lost 13 lbs so far and can actually say that for the past few weeks, I’ve been either lifting free weights or walking every day. The eating healthy diet consists of a lot of whole wheat pasta, salads and grilled chicken. Lots and lots of chicken. So much chicken that when Jorma says, “What do you want to do for dinner tonight?” at least once a week, I have to respond with, “Maybe we should get a little crazy. You know… have some chicken.”
Tonight we had girls night out at Outback and I decided, to hell with it all, I’m getting something delicious. And a salad. So I did. I started with a house salad, drank ice water and then moved on to my entrée. Cheese fries.
When they delivered the cheese fries to the table, I started to feel a little anxiety. My dinner was the size of a Volkswagen. They brought it on two stacked plates giving the impression that one of the large dinner plates would not support the heft. On top of my Volkswagen there was probably about a pound of cheese and at least half a pound of bacon. The anxiety was because I was afraid that I might try to eat it all.
Mostly I ate the cheesy fries off of the top, dipping each in blue cheese or ranch dressing alternately, occasionally picking up the bacon crumbles off of the plate so that none went to waste. I didn’t eat it all nor did I try, but The Eat Healthy and Work-Out Diet, my tummy isn’t used to ingesting such richness. And it’s not happy. Not one bit. I felt overly full for a while, but then it moved to nausea. From there I moved to “Holy Crap! I think I might vomit!”, which for me is monumentous since I am just not a thrower upper. I’m just not. I don’t vomit unless faced with the stomach flu or vodka with a Boone’s Farm chaser. I can drink tequila on an empty stomach  and don’t get me started on how Jagermeister is the cure for the common cold.

I can hold my liquor. I can not hold my cheese.

I guess this could really be a blessing. Because I feel like if I ever look at a cheese fry again. It might be too soon. Cheese patch indeed.