i couldn’t stick to a new year’s resolution if my life depended upon it

But make that my husband’s life, and I get a little bit motivated.

Almost two weeks ago, Scott went to the emergency room in severe pain (in the middle of the night, of course). At 3 a.m. he was admitted and put on the wait list for gallbladder removal surgery, which was executed at 3:30 p.m.

And my life turned upside down.

A little.

Why are you being so dramatic? – chant the voices in my head. It’s just a low-fat diet. You can do a low-fat diet.

The doctor looked at me – tearful, two days’ sleep deprived, wobbly, asking her how the heck I am supposed to cook for my husband now – and smirked, “It’s not like anyone here has Cancer!”

Right, check. Fears of husband under sedation, in surgery, the types of antibiotic-resistant bacteria that only live in hospitals; these risks had all pretty much passed. So what was I so up in a twist about?

Try Googling “gallbladder removal, post-surgery diet,” and see what I should not have been reading in the middle of the night, or at any time. Horrifying reports of what happens to the body when the wrong foods are consumed. Conflicting accounts of what the right foods are.

The doctor suggested he lay off the half-and-half, and no butter or red meat.

No butter, or beef, lamb, pork? What the hell would we eat?

Cue shame. We are not thin people. (We are thinner now, barely two weeks into this new eating regime). I’ve always known we should eat better. We enjoy our butter-poached salmon, our steak with anchovy butter, our roast pork, gnocchi swimming in cream, cheeseburgers with mayonnaise, tagine of lamb, saaaaauuuuuussaaaggges!

But no more. For the first two weeks in particular, post-gallbladder removal, it is crucial to eat a really low-fat diet while the liver re-calibrates itself to the loss of its bile-storage buddy.

And while I have been guilty of gluttony lo these last six years of my relationship (how fun it has been to experiment culinarily on my ever-willing and carnivorous husband; but to feed him stir fry veggies with skinless chicken breast was to break his heart, just a little; to offer a fully-vegetarian meal, punishment); I am also a person who takes to health-based dietary changes like an orthorexic fish to therapeutically-filtered water.

In other words, as much as I’m a slut for bacon, I’m equally an OCD who loves to research obsessively and create and follow food plans – when properly motivated by severe health disorders. For years I had terrible problems with my gut. I was even hospitalized once while traveling in Russia. That was colorful. And then I discovered I had food allergies. At one point I had a doctor who gave me a new three-page food plan (of red and green X’s next to what I could and couldn’t eat) every three months. That was torture inspired my chef-ly creativity.

And how can I neglect to mention the psychic nutritionist (different from psychic chiropractor) whose health recommendations I still somewhat follow today regarding which foods are more digestible. I once stayed with her for three days at her ranch in New Mexico where we sliced and dehydrated pounds and pounds of organic peaches, drank cold-process coffee, and I helped out at her sprouted-wheat flour mill, putting labels on bags and packing orders.

Orthorexia – a.k.a: obsession with the correct way of eating, ruled my life for many years. But by the time I met Scott, I’d recovered from a lot of my digestive issues and let go of a lot of the obsession in favor of a few extra pounds and a lighter attitude of mind.

The idea of changing what I cook and eat for my family this time around had me in tears for three days.

For me, food is comfort, always has been, even when I was controlling it (or it me). And, as the head of cooking affairs in our house, I had my rhythm; I knew what to buy and when to cook it.

Now I had to start over.

When the self-pity began to wear off, the excitement of the challenge began to kick in.

How to make low-fat food, and make it GOOD?

So, here I am, on New Year’s Day, feeling a little proud.

Last night, for our celebratory meal, we made baked sea bass with lemon zest and pepper, steamed green beans in a light mustard dressing, and whole wheat gnocchi tossed with fresh parsley, plum tomatoes, and a touch of olive oil.

(Last New Year’s, I recall experimenting with sweetbreads for the first time – breaded and pan fried in butter.)

Other experiments that have yielded great excitement:

• Chicken salad made with nonfat yogurt, agave syrup, and a touch of apple cider vinegar
• Wild rice stuffing made with turkey sausage instead of pork
• Spraying bread with non-fat olive-oil cooking spray and toasting
• Blueberry/banana/yogurt/agave smoothies with 2 cups of raw chard as the hidden ingredient (originally just for popsicles for Jonah as I am now reduced to hiding vegetables in food to get him to eat them – hello 3! – but we all enjoyed the mix as a beverage also, and blueberries are apparently excellent post-surgery food, according to a nutritionist I consulted – did I mention that I am obsessive thorough?)

So, yes, I’m becoming a convert. And we’ve both dropped a few pounds. And we both feel better.

It’s so embarrassing.

Time will tell whether, as Scott recovers, we bring back the fat and in what forms. I’m hoping he will be able to eat some of his/our favorite foods again, and also hoping that if it takes two weeks to ingrain a new habit (isn’t that the statistic?) – maybe we can hang on to this new lifestyle. Perhaps we can just have high-fat Fridays twice a month?

Some of the research I’ve come across on Dr. Google says that nut fats are better than animal fats for the body, and the liver, which could be a potential pitfall for us weight-wise (and the reason why not all vegetarians are skinny).

Still, I am looking forward to trying African Chicken Peanut Stew.