All you can cheat

For millions, the most popular of New Year resolutions is the diet/exercise combo to (hopefully) lose the weight packed on during the previous 12 months of – apparent – inactivity.

But, if you belong to my family, you cheat just a little on that resolution and start on the 2nd of January.

Why? Because on the 1st, we go to an all-you-can-eat buffet.

This is where we can indulge in an endless selection of fatty foods and desserts – all included in the same price! Fuck the diet. It’s time to re-enact Babette’s Feast, with tacky décor and a dozen, invisible minions that clear away dirty dishes whenever we walk away from the table to get another plate, piled-high with eight different kinds of food.

Being the sensible one, my father chooses some fish and vegetables. Not me.

Why the fuck would I eat veggies if I can make them myself? The reason for dining out is to eat the food you don’t eat at home. Let my father eat his green beans and steamed carrots, ‘cause I won’t be touching them. No fuckin’ way.

I go right to the meat. Lots and lots of meat. Pepper steak. Spicy meatballs. Schezwan chicken. Curry chicken. Chicken balls. And the occasional spring roll, just to cleanse my palate.

Meat. Meat. Meat. Sauté it. Flambé it. Dip it up in batter, stick it in the deep fryer, and throw it on my plate. If it’s meat, it’s mine.

After spending almost three hours eating (with the occasional cardio break of walking to the buffet), the plates are cleared, our fingers cleaned with a steamed towel, the bill paid, and our stomachs about to burst.

It's time for my family to leave the restaurant and go home… where dinner will be prepared.

Anyone got some Pepcid AC? Pepto? Stomach pump...?