I'm Going to Get Fat, Well, Fatter

I was doing well. My pants were coming down - in size that is - and I moved up a couple of holes in my belt. I was losing weight. Not quick, perhaps, but it was going down. The scale was no longer calling 911 and filing assault charges.

Then it all went to Hell as the holidays hit. I feel like I busted my gut for eleven months just so Santa could leave me twenty extra pounds in my stocking. The notches I gained were quickly lost and suddenly I’m poking new holes in my belt just to make it fit. The bottom of my shirt never touches my pants as it now hangs from my belly like a canopy for pets who want out of the sun. I’ve sacrificed all year, but it’s all for naught at the first slice of pecan pie or chocolate covered cherries.

And people don’t help. Everyone is bringing in cookies, cupcakes, and brownies, so that if they suffer, everyone they know will suffer, as well. These people don’t care about me. If they did, they would sacrifice themselves and eat the sugary treats in the darkness of their own home. They would protect me from the temptation of sugar cookies cut in the shape of a Christmas tree with green sprinkles on top of white icing. But no, they’re so generous with their kids’ baking that they just have to share it with all of us, the ones who really don’t need another piece of cake.

Then there are the parties. Office parties. School parties. Parties of friends. Spouse’s work party. Everyone is having a party. They didn’t have one all year long, but they’re having one at Christmas and there are two or three every weekend. Meatballs. Sausage balls. Cheese dips. Cakes. Pies. Cookies. More cookies. I can’t not eat. They’d feel insulted. They went through all the trouble of laying out such a fancy spread. I can’t skip the party, either. It’s a tradition and I’d hurt someone’s feelings. I can’t do that. I’m not insensitive, even though these party -throwers are, unselfishly sharing their holiday spirit with all. So, I fill my plate with Christmas goodies, scarfing them down and licking the plate clean, while washing it all down with eggnog. Why can’t they spread the parties out throughout the year? It’s like binge eating.

There is food everywhere I turn. Free samples. Gifts from coworkers. It’s too much. How am I supposed to keep the weight off? How can I refuse the delicious holiday delicacies?

I face this problem every year. You would think by now I would be prepared, or at least, know that it’s coming. I should just go into hibernation until January when everyone is making resolutions to lose weight and go to the gym. Of course, I’ll leave them to commit to a gym they’ll only go to twice while paying for a whole year, but I’ll appreciate their new found restraint at leaving the sweet or fatty foods behind. No one brings food to work until the holidays, so I’ll be safe. I can work on my six pack, which is now a keg and will probably only be reduced to a twelve pack, without everyone trying to shove cupcakes down my throat.

It’s going to be a long month. I’ll survive, of course, with a sugar cookie in one hand and a candy cane in the other. The scale might not make it out alive, though. We’ll have to buy a new one in January as we bury the old one. I’m resigned to the fact that there’s no diet in December and January will need a jump start back into health and fitness. For now, I’m just going to waddle around and enjoy the many delights that are a part of the Christmas season. So, pass me the peanut butter blossoms and grab one for yourself while you’re there.

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