"Good news: great food on cruise; bad news: great food on cruise"

  By Deborah Grossman - CONTRIBUTROR

  The good news: the Sea Princess was one big ship - our cabin was in the back and
  the many dining areas were forward, resulting in a three-football-field length walk each
  way. More good news: We quickly discovered the new dining options to feast on.

  The bad news: Cruisercise was history. On previous trips, the chance to earn
  Cruisercise T-shirts and fanny packs motivated me to attend abs class, thighs class -
  you name it, I was there. Once, I sailed home with more loot than my husband, a
  workout   maniac.

  More good/bad news: The food was as flavorful and varied as before.

I searched for ways to stave off poundage from alluring buffet lines. Does climbing in and out of hot tubs count? Pulling slot machines? Clambering on and off tour buses? Threading through endless Mexican markets?

No such luck. On Day 8, my husband struggled to zip me into my ball gown. I cursed him for not booking a 7-day cruise.

But, in retrospect, my diary reveals why a longer cruise beats a short one:

Day 5: Am finally acclimated to the ship - found all seven hot tubs and bars. Peeked into the library. Made friends with Canadian dining room neighbors . Looking forward to Puerto Vallarta and Mazatlan. If this were a 7-day, cruise, I'd be packing tomorrow.

Day 6: Discovered where the rent-a-laptops are. Harboring a severe case of e-mail withdrawal - absolutely no desire to light up a computer.

Day 7: Heard a rumor that tomorrow is lobster dinner. My husband reads a book on the Promenade Deck while I walk an extra mile. Feeling virtuous. A massage works off calories, doesn't it? A quick quarter-mile hike to the Seaview Spa and I'm there. Oh, and I'm falling in love. Lots of very fit retired folks on this longer itinerary, but I'm falling for the youngest cruiser, adorable 11-month-old Adam Lecy of Canada.

Day 8: Fateful Battle of the Zipper Day. Thankfully, all the potatoes - served chateau or macaire style - begin to taste the same. Substitute a glass of Chianti for spuds.

Day 9: Wouldn't you know: the best meal is served the last night: a simple baby turbot in a parsley-crumb coat. Maybe I liked it because it came with no spuds. The lobster yesterday may have been great, but I was too stuffed into my ball gown to breathe, let alone taste.

Day 10: Still eating. Love that smoked salmon for breakfast. Wearing loose shirt. Remembering the words of wisdom from my walk-a-mile companion: "Don't weigh yourself for a week when you get home." Make that 10 days.