The Marshmallow Myth

My theory has been proven wrong.  For much of the holiday season I held my weight steady despite indulging in every sweet that crossed my path.  It was the marshmallow conversion effect, I thought (not without some alarm).  I was merely converting muscle into marshmallow, which kept the scales from tipping even if it couldn’t exactly keep the zipper together on my jeans.  This week, however, I stepped on the scale again and– it tipped.  So guess what I’ll be doing in this first part of the year?  Give you a hint– it doesn’t involve chocolate.

 

Just to underscore the ending of the holidays, today was “Untrimming Day” at our house.  Poor little Quinn was devastated.  He came down the hallway rubbing his eyes and sobbing when he realized we were taking down the tree, “Mommy, I don’t WANT the tree to go away.”  Nearly broke my heart.  But after administering some comfort, I had to leave him to endure it.  Chloe and I had a date at the Museum of Fine Arts.  I honestly hated to leave Clay and Will with all the work here at home, but they insisted on going ahead with it even though we would not be here to help.

 

We went into the city, looked at the Winslow Homer exhibit and an amazing exhibit of photographic portraits by Karsh (see here for a short slideshow, and be sure to read his note on the Winston Churchill portrait).   Then Chloe and I had a nice lunch together and took a spin through the giftshop.  When we got home, the tree, the wreath, and the greenery from the front porch lay in a forlorn heap at the edge of the street.  The house was dark except for the porch light– the others had gone out for a while.  Chloe and I went inside, lit some candles, and turned on the Christmas music… just one more time.

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