A Study in the Art of Buffet

So, I went on a cruise with my family last week, and as anyone who's been on a cruise knows, it's all about the food.  A cruise virgin may ask, "Why in the heck would it be all about the food?  Why would you make it all about the food when the rest of it is bathing suits and pool-side World's Sexiest Man competitions?"  Well, Cruise Virgin, it's because the food is what's paid for in the cost of the cruise (as opposed to the alcohol, which you pay for on the ship).  And because the food is pretty darn good.  So why not order three entrees so that you can try things you would never take a risk of paying for at a restaurant?

I know, it's a combination of gluttony and the need to grasp with white knuckles anything that is "free" (not that it was free, but you know what I mean).  I'm sticking to my aforementioned justification for ordering multiple entrees at the sit-down meals--the waiter made them smaller portions and everyone passed them around the table to try.  I have to add that the first night I was met with mortified gasps when I ordered, but by night three everyone was in on the multiple entree ordering!  So there!

So let's turn to the much more interesting phenomenon that lives around the clock on a cruise ship: the buffet.  The buffet is by far the best solution to the unique crisis of feeding thousands of people.  But the biggest problem with the buffet is that NO ONE--not even the woman delicately counting the number of sprouts she takes from the salad bar--can help looking like a gluttonous American cow grazing, eyes wide and glazed over with the promise of endless nom noms.  I mean it - even the sprouts woman looks like another one of the cattle, shuffling along the grazing line. 

Yes, there are people who KILL a buffet line, and they have the circumference to prove it--but that's not what I was really bothered by.  One night there was ... wait for it ... a midnight buffet.  Oh yes.  And this midnight buffet was on the top deck, two long rows of food lined up next to the pool.  Yes.  Next to the pool.  Flanking it, on both sides.  The midnight buffet was actually part of a whole pool deck celebration, with a DJ and dancing and people in the pools and hot tubs.  Great, right?  Actually, from my perch on one of the elevated deck-chair rows, it was just icky--most people were in their bathing suits, dripping as they waited on an insanely long line for dinner number two.  Like I said, this isn't about judging people for partaking--if I hadn't just gotten through with our late seating dinner, I probably would have had some too.  This is about how it looked.  I can't put my finger on it, but it disturbed me.  It was far too reminiscent of something nonhuman--more animal than human for sure.

I spent many years working at Fogo de Chao, a Brazilian churrascaria where the food is unlimited.  The primary service is table-side meat carving, but there is also an impressive (and inappropriately delicious) salad bar buffet in the middle of the restaurant.  I remember that even when I worked there something always struck me as strange when I saw people line up at this fancy restaurant, nicely dressed, and stand there shuffling along, clutching their plates, waiting to get up to the first part of the buffet.  I can't reconcile the fact that I love a buffet (so many options!), but I hate the way I look, we look, standing at it. 

Portion control will always be my nemesis, and the buffet is the ultimate saboteur of moderation.  I guess I want to hate it, but I love it, and our complicated Sam and Diane relationship will inevitably be memorialized in an HBO production starring Kirstie Alley and the starboard buffet line.  Ugh ... I gag just thinking about watching it (but I want to go back for thirds!).

Crash and Burn Diet

So yeah, we all know crash diets are bad for you blah blah blah, but after some lengthy research, I've decided I am enough of an expert to declare: They are all shams (I know!  Breaking news, right?).  And not shams like they don't work, but shams in that they don't do ANYTHING more than what healthy diets do - cut calories.  It's a load of malarkey.  I was looking for a dangerous fad diet that would be more effective than starving myself by somehow creating a chemical reaction in my body that would bend space and time, causing the fat to be burned at a rate greater than the traditional net loss of 3500 calories = 1 lb weight loss.  It's just not out there - the math is fixed.  As someone who has spent the past three years in law school mastering the art of "it depends," this is very upsetting.

What, tell me, WHAT is the point of eating lemon juice, cayenne pepper and maple syrup in water if it does NOTHING more than eating the same amount of calories but in the form of raw leafy greens?  Why on earth would you trade boring yet nutritious veggies for disgusting napalm drink if it results in the same exact weight loss?  UGH.

I guess what it comes down to is that we all know how it's supposed to work, but we look to the fad or crash diet because a small, irrational part of us wants to believe that the magic is out there.  It's the same part of my brain that hopes I'm a muggle-born and my acceptance letter to the real-life Hogwarts just got lost in the mail.  I'm sure that owl with the message clearing up the mistake is on his way as we speak.

I've decided that a "healthy" crash diet is in order.  I'm going to try to take in the least amount of calories as possible, but the ones I do eat will be healthy.  Raw veggies, turkey breast, no salt, no sugar, no booze - that drill.  And of course workouts (blech ...).  The book of shame food diary has been moved temporarily to the kitchen whiteboard to up the in-sight in-mind factor, and the fridge has been emptied of all enjoyable, fatty food (how I'll miss you so!).

Also, the timing of this is hilarious - of course I would start a diet where I will undoubtedly become cranky, headache-y, and plain old irritable right when I'm at my best: when I'm PMSing.  It's actually great timing, truth be told.  Why not pile diet bitchiness on top of monthly bitchiness for one week instead of two weeks of Bon Qui Qui back to back?  I'd like to say I'll stick with this longer than a week, but I know myself better than that.  I'm aiming for the one week jump start and then a happy medium afterward.  I can dream, can't I?  It's day one all over again, and we'll see how it goes from here ...