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I completely blew my diet yesterday.

I blew it so badly, I may have to eat nothing but celery for a month before my calorie count falls to a normal range.

I know this is no excuse, but my car was being inspected and this all-you-can-eat place was right across the street. And this wasn’t just any all-you-can-eat place; it was the Pioneer Family Restaurant in Archdale.

And did I mention it was right across the street?

Diet or no diet, I’m just not good around that much temptation, particularly when a salad bar is involved.

You see, I’m the type guy who gets excited around large tubs of salad dressing.

Plus any restaurant that hangs a sign saying to use a clean plate each time you return and where Heinz 57, Worcestershire, ketchup, A-1, vinegar and Texas Pete are permanent fixtures on tables is dear to my heart.

So I said to myself what I imagine all dieters say when they decide to cheat, “Look, Mac, you’ve been doing so good. You’ve lost eight pounds since July. You’ve been jogging and drinking those protein smoothies with ground flax seed for months now. One little trip to the Pioneer isn’t going to hurt. Perhaps, you can just start with a salad.”

But I knew deep down that if I was going to cheat, I was going to cheat big. I wasn’t going to hold back. After all, we’re talking about heaping ladles of ranch dressing here.

So with my initial guilt postponed, at least for a time, I allowed myself a broad grin as I heaped a glorious pile of iceberg lettuce onto my plate.

I shamelessly topped the mass of greens with croutons, real Bac-Os (not real bacon mind you, but real Betty Crocker Bac-Os imitation bacon bits — which, at least in my mind, are far superior), cottage cheese, raisins, pickle spears, pickle slices, shredded ham, grated cheddar, half a boiled egg, black olives, those yummy little slices of pepperoni and a jalapeno pepper.

But the best part, for me, is the dressing. Buffet lines are an open invitation to pour three, four or perhaps five different kinds of dressing onto one’s salad. My motto is: ranch, Thousand Island, French and vinaigrette — don’t mind if I do.

I estimated my now-brimming plate weighed about four pounds as I hauled it back to the table.

On the next trip, I gave some thought to which foods on the buffet would be the best vehicle for each sauce on the table.

“Hmmm . . . that prime rib will go nicely with that 57 sauce,” I thought. And, “Oooh, I bet those home fries will be good soaked in some ketchup. A little vinegar for that fried okra. ... Nice.”

Like an honest-to-goodness pig, I gorged myself on all manner of delicious meats, vegetables and starches and topped each with a variety of sauces and gravies. I just couldn’t help myself. It had been such a long time since I had eaten at a place like this. I had forgotten how absolutely wonderful all-you-can-eat buffets are.

I could already feel my waistline expanding as I selected a dish of Oreo pudding for dessert.

The delicious pudding, the meat, the salad bar. The gravies and sauces. It was all simply wonderful.

Tomorrow, I’ll need to start back with the protein smoothies and the jogging, I thought, because the only exercise I’m going to get today is waddling back across the street to get my car and perhaps the effort of loosening my belt a bit.

Contact Mac Lane at maclane@ northstate.net