Editorial
Front Page - Friday, March 12, 2010
Are We There Yet?
My legacy
Jay Edwards
(The following was written nearly six years ago, when my metabolism was faster and my doctor more lenient)
One of our favorite places to eat lunch in the downtown area is at the restaurant located in the Legacy Hotel. One day last week, I was alone in my car, heading back to the office. It was nearly one o’clock, and I had convinced myself not to eat lunch that day.
The noticeable effects of too many cheeseburgers and french fries that I had been driving up and biggie sizing around town as of late had something to do with the decision. My new girth, while not yet out of hand, was becoming somewhat uncomfortable. This was very annoying, if for no other reason than how quickly the pooch had returned in relation to how slow it had been in leaving.
It had been a couple of years since I had put myself on a fitness regimen of exercise and better eating habits. I had remained pretty faithful to it, until recently that is. I decided at that very moment to begin a new diet, and what better way to kick it off than by skipping lunch.
I can remember hearing everyone talking about eating at the Legacy one day not long after I had started working at the paper. They were saying how great it was and salivating aloud over the fact that you could keep on eating until, well, until you couldn’t. Everyone had been teasing one of the guys, Jacob, about how the restaurant had to be losing money on him. He just laughed as if he hoped that were true.
You’d never know Jacob could eat a lot by looking at him. He must have the metabolism of a cheetah. He did tell me he had been a Razorback cheerleader not so long ago. That would explain it. Come to think of it, everyone talking about the Legacy that day is in their early to mid-twenties. They probably can lose five pounds just by reading South Beach, while it takes my middle age baby boomer brothers and me a whole week just to digest a bowl of grape nuts. Laugh while you can, you Gen X’ers, or whatever you’re called these days.
So there I was, driving down the road with a reborn willpower that was about to motivate me into skipping lunch altogether. I felt alive and powerful as I drove and looked around at the passing buildings. Then I spotted the Legacy and found myself attempting to parallel park.
Now you need to understand that the kind folks at the Legacy are thoughtful enough to fax us one of their menus every morning. When I saw the hotel, my Pavlovian reaction caused me to remember the Legacy menu for that day. This caused me to remember the menu had fried chicken on it, which almost caused me to wreck my car trying to get to a parking place. Willpower is great, but until someone figures out how to batter and fry it, it will always take a back seat to good fried chicken. I put money in the meter and hurried toward the feast.
Of course, this isn’t just any fried chicken that was causing me to fail at my new diet after I had only been on it for about a minute and a half. This is your mama’s fried chicken, or maybe even your mama’s mama. Tender meat covered by golden brown skin. And the best part – all you can eat – which I did.
I arrived in the restaurant and looked down at the buffet in front of me and felt one slight twinge of guilt. I saw the beautiful pile of chicken and remembered something about one of those diets that let you eat all the meat you wanted. Maybe I had willpower after all. Then I spotted the garlic mashed potatoes, and any last wishbone of self-denial was plucked from my consciousness.
The feeding frenzy began and a very short time later I had knocked out six pieces. This may not sound like much to some of you, and truth be known I could have stuffed in one or two more, but I went for the carrot cake instead. It is the only dessert on the planet that could have detoured me from more chicken.
I was full. Not miserable, but uncomfortably satisfied. Jacob probably would have called me a wimp. I took a last drink of water and then, probably looking like a teenage boy trying to pay for a girlie magazine, I paid my bill and walked out of the restaurant. I reached my car and climbed in, and immediately felt the tightness from my middle. I sighed and started the engine, and began thoughts of skipping dinner.
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