Swiss Chard Fantasies

I just returned from a three-day work conference. I like conferences. It's a chance to get away from the normal grind and learn a few new things. Usually I have my own room and I enjoy that too, mostly because I can sleep in a quiet place, away from rambunctious cats who act like four AM is the best time to run relay races. This conference was no different. The hotel was nice, the goings-on were well organized, and the presenters seemed to know their stuff.

Oh yeah, did I mention that the food sucked?

Why do I use this highly technical term, "sucked"? Perhaps because there was a conspicuous lack of an entire food group? Can you guess which? Yes, of course. Vegetables. 

The other food groups were well represented, especially the grains group. Bread abounded. Pasta was prolific. Danishes danced across the breakfast buffet. Meat and potatoes and dairy were also plentiful. The rare appearance of something vegetable in nature coincided with the copious use of mayonnaise, butter, and bacon as flavor enhancers, because everyone knows that veggies are not tasty enough on their own. In other words, it was normal eating.

What to do? I've written about this phenomenon before, I know. In the past, I often got mad, silently fuming; sometimes I got mad, non-silently protesting; other times I got mad but decided to grin and bear it. This time, I didn't get mad, silently or otherwise. This time, I just ate. To be fair, I ate less than normal to account for the extra calories (and carbs!), and I skipped the ice cream bar on the last night. In short, I made the best of a bad food situation and tried not to get all verklempt about it.

Did I feel sorry for myself, plunged into food dystopia through no fault of my own? Not really. I'm not sure how to explain my mellow response to this situation. I think some of it has to do with my recent weight gain, which has made it abundantly clear that there are two paths I can take. One is to eat "normally" and gain weight. The other is to eat "abnormally" and keep my weight where I want it. It's not a sadistic punishment visited upon me by the weight gods, it's simple biology and physiology. And -- shockingly -- the world seems disinclined to make much accommodation for my fat-prone metabolism, so I just have deal with it on my own, period.

You should know that it wasn't a complete disaster. I did speak to the conference organizer and provided constructive feedback about the meal choices, with suggestions for improvement for future conferences. And when I got home, I weighed myself and found I had gained only a half pound. Not too shabby.

Don't mistake any of this for blissful acceptance of my plight. It would be more accurate to say that I'm resigned. And I still get frustrated by the fact that there is such a laser beam focus on the failings of the overweight person and very little on the deficient nature of the food environment. Oh why oh why can't fat people eat in a sensible, healthy way, the eating experts moan, while paying no mind to the dietary minefields we weight-challenged folk traverse each day. Like a conference without vegetables.

Now that I'm home and master of my menu once more, I see lots and lots of Swiss chard in my future.

Yup. Yum.