And they ate as much as they wanted

Several months ago, I found myself standing in front of the vending machine in the break room at work.

Nothing grabbed my attention, but I pushed some coins into the slot anyway. After a few more moments of indecision, I pushed the buttons. Out popped something covered in chocolate.

In medical terms, this is known as habitual binging. (I just made that up. But it ought to be a medical term.) In plain English, it's known as stuffing you stomach without regard for the size of your ... . Well, you get the picture.

It occurred to me, as I played candy-bar roulette on that fine day, that I needed to take control of the stuff going into my mouth. So I vowed to go on a diet -- soon.

"Soon" is relative, as anyone who has ever gone on a diet knows. It could be a few hours, a few days or a few months.

In my case, "soon" stretched through the summer. When autumn arrived, I decided cool weather would trigger my resolve to eat less and exercise more.

Then "soon" was extended past the first half of October when we planned to be on vacation. It's a medical fact that you can't watch what you eat when you're on vacation. (I made that part up too.)

On the flight home from Oregon, I vowed to get serious. That was easy to do, because I had just visited a Portland restaurant that serves scrumptious breakfasts.

In any event, I have surprised myself. I've tried to eat only when eating is expected. I've made sure to eat a respectable breakfast. I have made fiber my friend. I avoid fast food at lunch. I try to eat what we always eat for dinner, but less of it.

All of this has produced some desirable results. I'm not ready to enter a limbo contest, On the other hand, I no longer look like Jared's "before" photo.

I'm telling you all of this because a lot of you are munching your Fruit Loops and wondering why I haven't said anything nice about the Christmas treats you have so generously delivered to my doorstep.

So far my wife and I have accumulated three fruitcakes, more fudge than is probably legal, dozens of scrumptious cookies, peanut brittle to die for, rum balls that would make a sailor swoon, cheese curds from Wisconsin and deer sausage the size of a fireplace log.

And it's still five days till Christmas.

Oh. By the way. I have also volunteered to bake both an apple pie and a cherry pie for Christmas dinner. I have already ruled that each slice will fulfill at least two of the servings of fruit recommended by nutrition experts who probably consider a double cheeseburger with extra-large fries to be a light lunch.

Not that I hold a grudge or anything, but people who don't eat all they want tend to be a mite grouchy, particularly when they're around folks who eat cheeseburgers and fries.

I should know.

For those of you who have contributed to the holiday bounty of the Sullivan cupboard, thank you.

I want you to know how delicious all the treats are.

You may be wondering how someone keen to cut calories knows how scrumptious these goodies are. I will tell you -- in the strictest confidence, of course -- that I have appointed myself the official taster of all gifts that fall into the food category. I believe it's the least I can do.

My unflinching devotion to my tasting duties are endorsed, I believe, by the very person whose birth we're getting ready to celebrate.

Remember when Jesus' disciples came to him while 5,000 hungry people were milling around? They had scraped together five loaves of bread and two fish -- roughly equivalent, I suspect, to taking store-bought fried chicken to one of my family's reunions. But that didn't bother Jesus one bit. He turned the loaves and fish into enough to feed everyone -- "and distributed to those who were seated as much as they wanted," the Good Book says.

As much as they wanted ... . And they didn't have any vending machines.

Happy holidays.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.