It's the height of holiday party season, and that means one thing: The party patrols are out in force.
Just a little carelessness and bam! It's enough to ruin the Holidays for anyone.
I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was recently caught in the dragnet of one such operation. It's not an easy thing to confess. But I need to share my story if it will prevent just one person from suffering through the pain and humiliation that was my own experience.
Please don't judge me harshly; it could have happened to anyone.
It was an innocent holiday brunch, a celebration to honor volunteers for a local charitable organization. Like many other attendees, I was in line at the buffet, filling my plate with such delicacies as baby carrots, celery and sugar-free cranberry salad.
I added a small dinner roll and a single serving of low-fat turkey. My plate was almost full as I neared the desserts.
I should have left the buffet then, but I wasn't even thinking about the consequences.
I was so busy chatting that I just got caught up in the atmosphere. Like so many before me, I didn't even see it coming.
I reached for the large cookie with icing, a smiling Santa with a bright red hat and shiny beard.
It was just one cookie, and I almost got it on my plate undetected when I was stopped by a loud, booming voice.
"Aren't you on a diet?"
The question shot out before I could hide the evidence.
I tried tucking Santa under my dinner roll, but it was no use. His bright red icing was just too hard to hide.
I stammered a garbled response, my face flushed with embarrassment.
There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I was the latest offender nabbed by the massive, worldwide network known as the dreaded food police.
My life flashed before my eyes in that instant.
Filled with regret at my indiscretion, I pictured my mug shot plastered on a newspaper insert, sad hues of watery orange and pale yellow capturing my disheveled hair, glazed eyes and pursed lips for all to witness my shame.
I even imagined the headline under the grainy photograph: Lisa Abeyta / Dec. 12, 2006 / Unauthorized Cookie: 312 Calories.
I envisioned the paper filled with others just like me. Some guy from Little Rock, Ark., busted with a brownie and a slice of pie.
Beside him was a culprit who had taken a large, decadent piece of Texas chocolate sheet cake.
And then that booming voice brought me back to my present predicament. "Are you allowed cookies on your diet?
"
I might be embarrassed, but I wasn't going to succumb to food police brutality. I had my rights, and I planned to stick up for them. It wasn't just about me anymore.
It was about misunderstood victims all across the nation.
I had no choice. For them, I had to take a stand.
"Yes, in fact, I am allowed a cookie on my diet," I replied with far more bluster than I felt. "You see, I only had coffee this morning with skim milk. Besides, I worked out longer than usual last night at the gym.
"
There was a small crowd now milling about. It's amazing how tragedy tends to attract onlookers, and now it was me who was the object of their curiosity.
With a show of courage, I marched past the crowd and sat at one of the tables.
I even pulled poor Santa from his hiding place under my roll.
For a while, I sat alone at the large table like some National Geographic special in which the injured elk is about to be devoured as the rest of the herd watches at a distance. Attendees passed by me, furtive glances cast in my direction before scurrying on.
Finally, one brave woman pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. I looked at her plate. There among the salad and veggies was a large slice of cake.
As I shoved a baby carrot in my mouth, she leaned over and whispered, "That took a lot of guts. Thanks for sticking up for all of us."
If you're ever caught off-guard by the food police, just remember my tale.
Stand up for your rights. We have to stick together.
Oh, and get a smaller cookie - one that will fit under the dinner roll.
It'll save a lot of embarrassment.
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