Dec 03 2008
Gods help me, the damage I’m about to do
A friend of mine is having a birthday today. Aside from an opportunity to wish him well and celebrate another turn for him around the sun, it is an opportunity to celebrate with him in his usual fashion: at a wing buffet.
Buffalo wings are deciptively small, ninjalike delivery systems for cholesterol and fat that have the insidious nerve to be delicious. The aren’t high carb, which is why I find them tempting but that saving grace can be done away with if they are in the right sauce. On top of that, they’re nigh impossible to consume in small quantities… at least if you’re me.
It’s possible to tear the skin off of them and just eat the meat, I suppose, but that defeats much of the purpose as the flavor lies on that same skin. If I were truly desperate, I could tear off the skin, rub the sauce off it onto the meat and then consume but that seems like the behaviour of an addict and I feel it’s more dignified to just accept that I’m going to have to find some reasonable way to work off the extra bad stuff.
I don’t blame my friend for my temptaion, only myself. I could order something else off the menu, a nice salad or something else sane for my metabolism. But I know I’m not.
Even the best of us diabetics have our weaknesses, and I am not one of the best. So if you read this, think of me and say a little prayer that the angel of moderation and common sense finds me and stays my hand from wing number 31, or at least helps me do the math on how many minutes of walking I need to do in the very cold autumn we’re having to compensate.
I thank you in advance.
