After twelve hours of peeling, chopping, baking, blending,
bitching, boiling, blisters, stirring, sifting and setting
(whilst sweating like a racehorse-running-the-Preakness)
Modah single-handedly produced a Thanksgiving dinner
of pornographic proportions.
A roasted turkey reclined in its Rubenesque glory on the table,
surrounded by serving bowls of salty, slurpable starches
and greasy/sweet sauces,
A line of fruit pies waited to be ravaged on the kitchen counter.
Modah’s Famool surrounded the table,
seething with their collective HANGRYness.
And after a quick blessing
(and some credit thrown to the now-self-basting cook)
the Famool assaulted that groaning-board like Vikings
Not to be outdone by her DILs*, Trogs,** and LuSH,***
Modah herself horked down enough Thanksgiving grub
to transform her liver into a twenty-pound slab of foie gras.****
And then… came the aftermath of suffering,
as Modah and her Famool swooned onto couches,
groaning from reflux and shame.
Now I ask you,
did pigging-out on Thanksgiving Day
move Modah one step closer to her dream
of being a svelte, jacked grand-maw-maw?
Uh, HELLs NO!
So Thanksgiving dinner ended up being an epic face-plant for Modah.
But (after several days detoxing on lemon water),
Modah rose up like a portly phoenix
from the ashes of her smoking oven,
and she penned a simple and effective
HOLIDAY PIG-OUT PREVENTION PLAN
to spare herself (and also YOU, my darling ones)
from a New Year’s Eve of drunken remorse.
And THIS is how it goes.
#1 – REMOVE ALL EVIL FOODS FROM THE KITCHEN!
Yesterday Modah ejected all crap carbs and FATTY-fat-fats from her house.
Unfortunately, those evil foods only made it as far as her garage refrigerator.
Now, Modah would have preferred to actually THROW OUT
all of the evil holiday leftovers.
But that would have caused Modah’s frugal, food-obsessed husband
to have a stroke.
And since Modah wants to maintain peace
(and some hot righteous monogamy) with the old boy,
her garage fridge has become a CITY OF REFUGE
FOR COSTCO-SIZED CONTAINERS of
cheeses, pastries, beer, sodas, juices, cakes, breads, ice cream,
and any other foods that can be blamed for
turning Modah’s thighs into twin Hindenburgs**.
Now that the kitchen has been purged, what to do?
#2 – BUY AND PREPARE ONLY PALEO(ish) FOODS DURING THE HOLIDAYS!
Modah has just declared her Paleo-only Policy to her Famool.
And as soon as their snorting and laughter subsides,
they WILL realize that Modah ain’t gonna be cranking out
any bubbling, restaurant-sized flats of artery-clogging crud like
her infamous Fat-lady Potatoes,
or her Chicken Divan,
or her Handmade Manicotti Stuffed With Sausage
or her Cream Cheese Brownies,
or her Chicken-fried Steak with Mashed Potatoes’n’Gravy
so as not to encourage debilitating communal gluttony.
Instead, the Famool will have to to suck on Rosemary Lollipop Lambchops
and nibble on Mesclun Salad at Christmas dinner,
with mixed berries for dessert.
Yeah, such deprivation.
But let the record show that said berries will be topped
with a Grand-Marnier-infused whipped cream,
because Modah is not a monster.
Finally, HOW ELSE can Modah avoid
the temptation to pig-out through Christmas?
She has decided to…
#3 – ORDER THE FAMOOL TO
MAKE THEIR OWN DANG EVIL FOOD
IN THEIR OWN DANG HOMES,
AND TO KEEP THAT DANG MESS TO THEMSELVES!
It’s time for Modah to formally pass-the-spoon
to her grown-ass progeny, anyway.
They have ALL been taught how to make their favorite comfort foods
during the thirty years they’ve clung to Modah’s cankles.
Plus, they now have their OWN homes and kitchens,
in which to do all manner of things
of which Modah wouldn’t approve.
So they might as well add “making Fat-lady Potatoes”
to that list.
So, yup, there’s gonna be some healthy changes in Modah’s holiday kitchen.
And, yuppity-yup-yup, there will be much weeping and gnashing of teeth
among the Famool as they gnaw on their “Christmas crudités” at her house.
But, tough shit, kiddies.
Modah’s back-on-the-wagon till 2017.
*DILs = Daughters-in-law
** Trogs = “Troglodytes,” (i.e cave men), Modah’s sons and/or rental-sons
***LuSH = “Long Suffering Husband”
**** foie gras = French for “hideously expensive duck baloney.”