A Glass (or Two) of Wine Does Not a Criminal Make

In my Weight Watchers meeting (See, I am occasionally virtuous.), the leader asked how we fatties reward ourselves.

“Drink a glass of wine with dinner!” I shouted without hesitation.

Everyone held their collective breaths; eyes widened.

“At least you’re honest,” another member replied, pityingly.

“An occasional glass is fine,” the leader countered in attempt to emolliate the mob.

“That’s right,” I smiled. “A few sips and, ahhh, everything’s better.”

Horror from the crowd.

My So-Called Obsession with Strangling Mother Teresa

What? Did I just confess to strangling Mother Teresa or that I have an obsession with fossilized kitty litter?

No, I said I enjoy a glass (or two) of wine with dinner.

“Well, golly,” I tried to recover. “It’s not like I drink my glass of wine at work or while I’m at the drive-through window.”

Embarrassed titters.

I decided to just be quiet after that.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury

In defense of a glass (or two) of wine, I present my case.

First off, let me state I’m adamantly opposed to drunkenness, alcoholism, drunk driving, boxed wines or ostentatious wines. That said, here we go:

A Long and Ignoble History

Fermented beverages have been enjoyed since Neanderthal man grunted, “Ugh. Over-ripe loganberry make everything lot better.” Oh, wait a minute. Didn’t I just say that?

Au Naturale
Even birds have been known to imbibe in fermented pyracantha berries. It’s a winter time kick to watch tipsy black birds try to walk a straight line.
Heart Healthy
Erudite studies report that a glass of red wine, full antioxidants and resveratrol promote a healthy heart. I don’t know what antioxidants or resveratrol are, but my heart will be pumping like a 16-year-old Olympiad when my teetotaling friends are in the cardiopulmonary ward.

God’s Will

Every religion from Animism to Zeus worship, embrace a glass of wine as part of their worship. Where do you think debauchery comes from? Okay, maybe not the best example.

Everyone Has a Weakness

No one bats an eye at the coffee addicted or a sweet tooth. I can pass up a lot of things, I’m not sure when it became shameful to drink a glass of wine with dinner, but that’s one reward I’m not passing up.

FOOD FIGHT!

Celebrations should be about the special day, the guest of honor, the accomplishment. Right?

So why have they turned into food and entertainment competitions?
It begins with Thanksgiving, moves into Christmas and finishes up on Independence Day. Thanksgiving’s opening salvo goes something like this:

Question: “So how many are you having over for dinner?” Challenging grin.

Answer: “Somewhere around 12 to 14. I bought a 16-lb. turkey!” Victorious smirk.

Response: “A small group, then.” Pitying kill shot.

12 Is Never Enough
What?!? Since when is 12 people for a sit-down dinner in your home, that you shop for and prepare yourself considered small? Any other time of year, and I’d be hailed as a brilliant hostess, bordering on Martha Stewart-like greatness.

Why must I apologize if I don’t take a week off to hunt and field dress my bird? Hello, Sarah Palin. If I fail to prepare six varieties of pie, two kinds of yams, which no one likes, and grandma’s home-grown, organic, free-range pumpkin and hand-ground cinnamon soup (recipe translated from the original German, no less), I’m a loser.

December 26 or Bust
Christmas brings the same kind of in-your-face competitive attitude -- with the addition of gift buying and wrapping. You’ve won the game of mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the weariest of us all if you’re a complete wreck come December 26.

At Least Men Embrace Paper Plates
And let’s not forget the men. On the 4th of July, guys-who-love-to-grill fall prey to the same unrealistic expectations as women: the special cuts of beef, the elaborate marinades, the exotic seasonings and barbequing techniques. At least they’re perfectly happy with paper plates and plastic forks.

Don’t get me wrong. I agree. Nothin’ says lovin’ like somethin’ from the oven. I also agree to value the effort that goes into a multi-course meal for more than four. It’s hard work. Right?