Day 9: chewing the fat

So much for restraint. I’m still troughing at the buffet every day. Scary. Well, not as scary as some of the other plates I see, piled high with pizza and hamburger and fries, wobbling past (the seas are kinda rough at the moment). You know, I don’t mean to be judgmental (kind of like when people say “I don’t mean to be rude”, when they actually do) (come to think of it, I’ve been judgemental three days in a row now … well, Husband would argue my whole life) but the people with plates piled high with fried stuff are usually rotund and the people with sliced turkey and salad on their plate usually aren’t. Same goes for the kids scoffing that second plate of fries and burger for lunch, or the ones eating iced donuts for breakfast. They ain’t petite. Anyway, enough about other people, back to my own piggy nature. To try and offset all the excess, I’m using the stairs rather that the lifts. As our cabin is on level 3 and the buffet is on level 11, this can be quite exhausting. The Sprogs scamper ahead while I lumber and wheeze my way up. When I eventually arrive (which sometimes feels like forever, like yesterday when I started climbing the stairs at 11.55am and it was 1.05pm when I finally reached the top … No, wait, that was the clocks moving forward again as we continue traversing endless time zones). Still, I’m not sure it offsets the plates of biriyani, fish, Greek salad and chicken picante I scarf over lunch. So I’m scheduling gym time each day as well (sweating it out on the stepper beside elderly gentlemen in loafers, beige slacks and polo shirts) after dropping the Sprogs in kids club and having hushed discussions with the supervisor about how the nit situation is progressing. He’s promised he’s on top of it (we’re zeroing in on a hyperactive little chap called Darcy). To ice the fatty cake, we are off to Rita’s Cantina tonight for Mexican. This is a “pay extra” dinner choice, but the adults in our party are lured by margarita happy hour and a change from white tablecloths and function-centre style food (with an international twist each night – yesterday was Alaskan, with halibut chowder, elk stew etc) in the main dining room. Although I’m sad to miss which eyebrow piercings the threesome sharing our table will have chosen for the evening (it’s “formal” night, so I’m guessing diamanties), and our daily update on who slept on the toilet last night (the husband was forced to jog down the hall to a public restroom last night because their friend was cosily ensconced/unconscious on their toilet). Happy holiday moment: squashing into the 1m x 1m bathroom to wash Sprog 2’s hair in the shower when Sprog 1 pushes past to take a dump. Wild. Busy day ahead: gravlax cooking demonstration at 10.30am; world’s sexiest man competition, poolside at 11.30am; vegetable carving at 1.30pm; shuffleboard tournament at 3.15pm; bingo at 3.30pm … Phew, not quite sure how we’ll squeeze it all in.