No Skip Button

The invention of the DVR is the best thing to ever happen to me as a reformed fat person. Not having to be subjected to the suggestive and naughty inducing TV commercials for gooey cheesy pizza or fudgy chocolate brownies late in the evening, long past the hour when all eating needs to stop is great. Food marketing late at night is never for broccoli or cherries, if it ever is, but for things that cause guilt if succumbed to. Thanks to the ability to fast forward through commercials I am able to not stress my will power.

Unfortunately not everything has the DVR skip ahead button and boy do I wish it did. Tonight Russ and I went to the Durham Bulls game. It was the perfect night. Not too hot, no humidity, so un-August like for Durham. The only problem with the game it the absolute lack of any healthy food at the ballpark.

Russ is a good egg about the eating and he helps me out by ordering salmon salads from Tyler’s tap room that we eat in his office across the street from the Bulls. It’s a good salad, but since we can’t take food into the park we have to eat before the 7:00 start of the game. Normally eating before 7:00 is not an issue for me, as long as I have some fruit later in the evening.

Tonight as we sat in the dark with the score zero to zero through the fourth inning I could hear the call of “Peanuts” through the night air as the lightening bounced around the cloud above the “Bull.” Flash, “peanuts,” flash, “popcorn,” flash, “peanuts.” I tried to concentrate on the game, but all through my mind flashed, “Peanuts.” Where is the fast forward button that skips the ads for the tempting foods? The call of the vendor’s product is just as tempting as the pictures of Baskin Robbins on TV.

I only had one recourse to the call, well two, but I took the good-for-me path and left the game rather than giving in to peanuts. I drove home thinking of the yummy and healthy grapes I had at home. I got a bowl, stepped on the walking desk and wrote this blog. Perfectly satisfied to type with sticky grape fingers and the feeling of triumph over the voices calling to me in the night.