Playoff beards, Guilt, and Jorge Posada

These first few weeks have been difficult weeks to start a diet. It’s not because there are a slew of restaurants that have been opening near me. No, these weeks have been difficult because it’s playoff time for the National Hockey League. For the third time in twenty years, my beloved San Jose Sharks have advanced to the Western Conference Finals. However, this is the first time that I have been in the Bay Area while the Sharks were in the Western Conference Finals. The side effects of this month-long (so far…) playoff run have been extraordinary.

1) One of the most beautiful hockey traditions is the playoff beard. Most hockey players – and a lot of fans – will grow out their beards for the duration of their team’s playoff run. I have joined this group of men and, I must say, the beard is quite fantastic. I didn’t know how a full beard would look with a bald head, but short of my sister, it has received nothing but compliments. Growing a beard of such length has forced me to also use shampoo and conditioner for the first time in ages. As itchy as this thing is, and as much as I can’t wait to get rid of it, I sure as hell hope that I have to continue growing it through mid-June.

Playoff beard in all its glory

2) I wouldn’t say that I have been an emotional trainwreck, but there has been a fair amount of in-game yelling (mostly directed at the pathetic refereeing) and post-game drinking, of both the celebratory and depressed types.

3) There have been copious amounts of cake devoured during the last month. What does cake have to do with playoffs? For most of these playoffs games, we have hosted or been hosted to viewing parties. Either during or after the games, we would eat dinner, which would be followed by cakes from all sorts of places – Icing on the Cake, Nothing Bundt Cakes, and Costco. And there are few things that are harder to resist than cake. Just ask Jim Gaffigan

That third factor is the critical one that is affecting my efforts at dieting (although I’m convinced that this beard has added at least a little weight on the scale). Eating cake at least three days a week will set a person back a bit. Nothing like a little butter, sugar, and flour to help put the pounds on.

The same cake is also a huge motivational factor. Every time I put a serving of cake on my plate, I’m also serving myself a slice of guilt, something that us Jews do very well (although I’m sure that Anthony would assert that while Jews created guilt, Catholics perfected it). Every time I take a bite of cake, I know I have to spend a little more time at the gym, if only to maintain my current weight. Because I am convinced that if I continue to eat the way I’ve been eating without exercising, I would be closer to 220 pounds than 210.

Given what I’ve been doing, it’s hard to expect that my weight will drop like Jorge Posada’s batting average (you’re welcome, Anthony). So, for now, I have a feeling that I may be stuck in neutral. I may even put on a pound or two. But in the meantime, I am working my ass off. Maybe not literally, but certainly figuratively.

Now let me at that cinnamon pound cake!