Dismay

Those who have been kind enough to follow these entries for the past few weeks will know of my decision, a couple of weeks ago, to take a vacation from my habitual evening glass of wine. I did so, in part, to see what morning clarity of thought and increased mindfulness might follow; but also, in part, thinking to work a little on that spreading waistline and the sense of bloat that seemed to accompany the consumption of alcohol. I confidently expected to lose a few pounds.

Well... you can hardly imagine my dismay, stepping on the scales nearly two full weeks later, to discover that I have actually PUT ON weight! And not just a little: I'm SIX POUNDS heavier than I was two weeks ago. Dismay is too kind a word to describe my reaction. I was appalled, staggered, distressed... SIX POUNDS? After all that dedication, all those envious sidelong glances at my neighbor's glasses at the restaurant, all those noble moments of resistance at the refrigerator door (I bought an excellent bottle of Sancerre before making my decision. There it sits, cooling nicely.)

I sat glumly over one half of a "healthy muffin" at breakfast, brooding at this injustice. The temptation now, of course, is to go out and get pleasantly soused as a gesture of indignation. Maybe that would take some of this extra weight off. Is it possible that wine has been protecting me from obesity all these years? Perhaps I was entirely mistaken in believing that it contributed significantly to the flab? Any dieticians or nutritionists out there who can help me with this? I need to get to the bottom of it.

Before this travesty occured, I had been planning to write today about the "Chocolate Jesus", a six-foot sculpture of a naked Jesus on the cross by the artist Cosimo Cavallarro, which was to be shown starting Monday evening at the Lab Gallery inside Manhattan’s Roger Smith Hotel. Said Bill Donohue, head of the Catholic League, a watchdog group, “This is one of the worst assaults on Christian sensibilities ever. It’s not just the ugliness of the portrayal, but the timing — to choose Holy Week is astounding.” Aside from the bad taste, I'm not sure that it's any worse than the chocolate Easter eggs which represent, I was told as a child, the stone that was found rolled away from Christ's tomb on Easter morning. Or what about all those bunnies? What to they have to do with anything? I always understood that rabbits were the champs in the field of sexual reproduction...

Anyway, listen, it's always fun to tease the Christians. I applaud Cavallaro for his subversive action, and wonder who gets to break off the first piece and eat it. And what that piece might be. It would take some balls to go for the penis, no? (The picture I found is strategically cropped to avoid any possible embarrassment to sensitive viewers, but I would have to assume that it's circumcised.) But anyway, I'm off my chocolate now, given the first part of this entry. And what's next? A chocolate Buddha? God forbid. Well, no God. So, heavens forbid. No heavens either, actually. No matter. In the meantime, of course, cheers, skool, prosit, salute, salud, sante...Cheers...

Oh, by the way, I've discovered that you can indeed view the whole, and wholly naked chocolate Jesus. Try the link. And be sure to "launch!"