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About my “buckeye belly”....... I have been in growing despair over the holidays without my son, and nothing, no nothing can get me into the Yuletide spirit. However. This does not mean that I have been wasting away due to my sorrow and sadness. Far from it. In fact, I seem to have developed an unfortunate penchant for indulging what could have been the ye old holiday sweet tooth. Instead I am going to rename the sweet tooth: the sweet tooth of holiday avoidance. When my great cycling buddies decided that we should have a cookie exchange in lieu of gifts, I was all about it. It seemed like a great idea back in early November. Mid December found me in the kitchen, up to my elbows in dark chocolate, butter, and sugar and I was one bitter sister. “Who thought this was a good idea?” I groused to anyone (and everyone) who wool listen. I, in fact, went out of my way to call a few of my friends just to complain about how unhappy I was to be baking. I crabbed at my husband when he tried to help me, and I announced, loudly and angrily in the kitchen, “Anyone who is hungry better not look at me for dinner! I am going to be baking cookies all night!” I swigged on some wine to ease the pain of domesticity, and got down to it. Hours later, my cookies were done and I was relieved. Then I remembered: I would be getting lots of cookies in exchange for my hard work! YEAH! This is when the sweet tooth of holiday avoidance began to check into play. We had our cookie exchange and all my friends brought sweet and delicious treats. There were “Monster Cookies”, macaroons, spiced oatmeal raison cookies, buttery rich toffee, homemade jelly, and..... BUCKEYES. You don’t grow up in Ohio without knowing about the buckeyes. Ohio is, after all, the BUCKEYE STATE. As much as I loved all the cookies and treats presented by my crew; the buckeyes sent me over the edge. The way I figure it, you can eat cookies pretty much all day long when you exercise enough. Exercising is what I do, so the cookies went to good use. Jelly, why, that’s a CONDIMENT.... and everyone knows that condiments don’t even count in the caloric tally. Buckeyes, however, are nothing but sugar, chocolate, peanut butter and butter. GOBS AND GOBS OF BUTTER. Buckeyes are Reese’s Cups on crack. I was a buckeye addict. I would start my morning with a bowl of cereal and think, “A buckeye would certainly top this meal off nicely.” I would chase the midmorning blues with the thought, “a tiny little buckeye would take the edge off of my despair.” Lunch would of course, be topped off with a buckeye, and the mid-afternoon slump was conquerable with the aid of my good friend, the buckeye. Dinner would be capped with a buckeye, and why, nothing aided sleep as nicely as a buckeye. I am out of buckeyes. Except for, of course, on my belly, where I note with great despair, all the buckeyes have gone to live forever in the form of “buckeye belly”. I have continued my manic exercise through the holidays as I continue to avoid them, but my cursed sweet tooth has come back to haunt me with my new foe, the buckeye belly. The buckeyes are gone and so I have now resolved to work those bad boys off of me, but it is not going to be easy, nor is it going to be pretty. Though spandex workout clothing is designed to stretch, it is never less attractive than when it is stretched to capacity over a big buckeye belly. It is a steep price to pay, but the buckeye belly is the result of nothing but my own gluttony and will probably linger long after the holidays I am avoiding have faded into memory.
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