Where Have We Been?

We’ve been enjoying an extravaganza of pleasure at Kiawah Island this week, with romantic walks on the beach . . . .

. . . fine dining at Kiawah’s exclusive restaurants . . .

. . . building goo castles and other activities dictated by our beloved five-year-old despot (our niece, Grace). . .

. . . and, of course, shopping at Rosemont Farms, where the chickens are beautiful . . .

. . . and so are the little heirloom tomatoes.

Even the abundance of fresh produce, though, could not stop our weight watching from falling down the typical vacation abyss. My mother’s shrimp and grits were perhaps our greatest downfall. I knew that disaster was inevitable during our shopping trip to get ingredients.

“Do you want me to get half-and-half instead of cream to use in the shrimp and grits?” my mom asked, as we stood in front of the milk cooler.

“Don’t worry about it, Mom,” I said benevolently. “We can eat that sort of thing on Weight Watchers. We just can’t eat as much.”

And another warning, as she was cooking: “I usually put a whole stick of butter in this. Is that okay?”

“Oh sure,” I blithely responded. “Like I said, we can eat it, just not as much of it.”

I started with a respectable serving of about half a cup. But once the smooth, cheesy, buttery goodness and the fresh shrimp made their way into my mouth, it was all over. I have no idea how many half-cup helpings I ate, but it was more than three. And luckily there was some left over lunch for the next day.

But Weight Watchers is a benevolent God, much like the one worshipped by the Baptists. You can backslide all you want, just as long as you show up in church on Sunday and put your money in the plate. So we’ll repent now, and go up for the altar call when the organist plays “Just As I Am,” and humbly promise never, ever to do it again until the next time.

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