The Breakfast Club

What is it about Sunday mornings that screams, "HUGE, FATTY, ARTERY CLOGGING, BREAKFAST"? And if there is a day to pig out on breakfast, Sunday is the one. That photo above is an actual shot of my breakfast yesterday.


And I ate the whole thing.


And now I hate myself. Well, not really, but you know what I mean.

It all started innocently enough. I met my brother-in-law and the kids for breakfast at a great diner/restaurant called The Breakfast Club. The long line snaked outside the door should have been a tip that I was in for a culinary treat. My BIL got there first so we already had a table, and we got right in. No waiting. In my mind, I was going to go with my standard Sunday morning breakfast indulgence: One egg, cheese omelet, a slice or two of bacon and some fruit, but once I looked around I knew this was no standard breakfast joint.

The delightful scent of cooked breakfast meats, mixed with fresh ground coffee was enough to tempt even the strictest of dieters. I looked at the menu, and saw that just about anything your breakfast-loving heart desired could be whipped up. My nephews enthusiastically recommended the steak tips with eggs and home fries, or pancakes, or French Toast....or whatever you so desired. It was then that I knew I was not getting out of there being calorie conscious.

I thought about breakfast sausage...I though about actually eating toast....I though about drinking freshly squeezed orange juice...and I decided to throw caution to the wind and go for broke. Nothing has tasted so good in a long time. You see, normally I splurge at dinner time. I reserve my two splurge meals a week for fantastic dinners out with My Guy, so having a splurge at breakfast was a new and exciting change. I enthusiastically plowed through half of my meal, when my brain informed me that was just about all I could handle, so I put down my fork. As we sat there talking, laughing and enjoying the morning, I would occasionally take another bite. The next thing I know, I'm squirting ketchup on my plate and salting up the home fries like no body's business. Who had I become???

Like the name says, for that brief moment I had become a Breakfast Clubber and I left there feeling happy and satisfied for the entire day. I am surely paying for it today, as my shocked system is on an overload of saturated fats, but it was worth it. And all day today I have a chorus of Simple Minds background music playing in my head..."Don't you forget about me".....

I won't. I promise.