I’m full. I’m really full. I could stop right there, and almost everyone in America would understand exactly what I mean. But since I have to justify my existence, I’ll explain further.
The Thanksgiving meal is over, so I’m not only full, I’m sleepy. I’ve lain around watching football and the tryptophan has kicked in. At least that’s what they’ve told us for the last fifty years (whoever “they” are).
However, “they” are now telling us differently. It appears someone was wrong. I’m presently reading that we’ve been duped all these years.
“It’s a big fat lie.”
The Huffington Post says, “It’s a big fat lie.” Yes indeed…none other than the Huffington Post. And you know if the Huffington Post says it…well…
So to make sure, I’ve checked several other sources. Lo and behold, everyone seems to be in lock step on this one. Tryptophan is apparently not the kryptonite we once thought it was.
We are now told we’re sleepy simply because we’re all little piggies (or big ones). We’re sleepy because we overate. We’ve gorged ourselves. We were hungry enough to eat a horse, but we substituted a turkey, three yams, two pieces of pumpkin pie, and a partridge in a pear tree.
All the leftovers are packed away and stored in the refrigerator. I’ve sprawled out on the couch to watch the NFL marathon. After the first quarter of football (and sometimes sooner than that), I’ve got my nose in the fridge looking for some leftover stuffing. Why do I do that?
I do it because it’s really good. I do it because leftover stuffing is even better than first-over stuffing. I do it because I know if I don’t, I won’t get any (and that’s because everyone else in the house has the same idea). And to be totally honest, I do it because I have zero discipline (particularly on Thanksgiving Day). I can’t blame it on the Bossa Nova like Eydie Gorme (look it up, young people).
“Tryptophan was a great excuse.”
And so it goes. We overeat. It’s carbohydrate city. Melatonin galore. And what do we do? Go back for more. And until the leftovers are all gone, I’ll keep a path worn from the couch to the Amana. I’m my own worst enemy. So I’m full.
Tryptophan was a great excuse. I’m sleepy? It’s the tryptophan. I can’t help it. I’d better take a nap.
Now the excuse has been unceremoniously jerked from my unsuspecting hands. It’s no longer God’s fault for putting that stuff in such a delicious bird. It’s now my fault for being a glutton. Oh the humanity!
I guess I’ll have to take a step or two toward personal responsibility. Hi—I’m Dave Zuchelli, and I’m an overeater.
More on that later… Right now I’m too sleepy.