With or without a little piece of Idaho?
Today is the second day of my new calorie counting die with a t. It might actually be considered a life-change but that might be too optimistic. I started the day off well: A banana-peach smoothie for breakfast which totaled a whopping 275 calories. Yay me! No wonder I was starving by the time Ben came home from school at 11:15.
One of the first things he asked me was, "So, when's your cheat day?"
"Uh... since I only just started this yesterday, I haven't really given much thought to a cheat day."
"Oh," short pause, "So, where do you want to go for lunch? Barty's Lard Cafeteria or Golden Corral?"
"Are those my only choices?"
"Well, I was going to mention The Cellulite Cafe but they're a little pricey."
So, off to Golden Corral it was. The awesome thing about GC is that we can get plates of sample style food for the kids and we don't care if they don't eat every little thing. Plus, they're free until they're 4! Woohoo, free food!!
Henry had a food orgy. By the time he was done, there was food all over the floor, his lap, inside the plastic bib pocket, all over his face and in his hair. He had his first try of juice as well, which REALLY excited him and so happened his first ever juice-stache.
Audrey enjoyed herself too. She was a bit pickier than Henry, but since she was free, I couldn't make myself care too much. She loved the juice too.
I blew my calorie counting efforts completely. My British blood called out to me and most of my meal consisted of fish and chips. I can argue with myself that fish is really good for me and I don't get it as often as I should, but I really can't justify the batter dipped and deep fried qualities. Sitting here, I just realized that I didn't even get myself any fruit. Shame on me. My thighs will be bubbling all night long. By my figuring, the only thing that would bring me back down to my calorie allotment for the day would be about 4 pounds of celery.
After the kids and I had our plates in front of us and were happily filling our tums, Ben wandered out to forage for himself. He came back with a pile of french fries and the fixings for a super loaded baked potato.
"Filling your starch quota for the century?"
Ben peeled the foil off his baked potato and I noted distractedly that he brushed a little dirt off the tuber. Not too unusual unfortunately. I can't tell you how many times I have been disappointed by the quality of potato washing at restaurants. The skin, honestly, is my favorite part of the potato. Load it up with butter and it's a heart stopping, juicy, satisfying pile of cholesterol. It always saddens me when I have to leave the skin because I just can't work up the nerve to eat a little dirt.
The next time I looked up, there was a little mound of Idaho on his plate. Ew.
"Erm. I wouldn't eat that potato if I were you."
"I wasn't planning on it. Do you think I should ask for a manager?"
"Oh yeah. The whole batch could be like that."
A few minutes later, we had a manager who asked us politely what he could do for us.
Ben smiled ruefully, "I really wanted a baked potato today," and showed the manager his plate with the unappetizing, grey mound resting on it.
Since he was standing at my left shoulder, I didn't see his face, but I can imagine his smile turning to horror at the sight.
"That's just disgusting. I'm SO sorry!"
He went on to say that he loved to eat the potato skin himself and was horrified that one of their potatoes looked like that. He took Ben's potato with the promise that he'd be back shortly, warning as well that the whole batch would be tossed so it obviously wouldn't be replaced with a new one.
When he came back he notified us that the person who prepped the potatoes that day was getting a serious talking to and that it would never happen again. He apologized again, asked for our receipt and left again.
Ben opted for a nice, big, healthy-ish salad, which he was kind of bummed about. But, since his meal, and mine ended up being free, we didn't complain much. Woohoo! Free food!