It’s the most tubbiest time of the year?
If you take my weight and divide it by 42, you’ll find that I’ve been packing on about five pounds each year. I’m here to tell you, it’s the fault of Christmas! I’ve learned to be pretty good at Thanksgiving, and only eat one place. On Halloween, I generally restrict myself to a handful of candies. On Easter, I avoid the bunny rabbits. But bring me to Christmas…
The problem, I believe, lies in the variety. Every other holiday has a theme but, with Christmas, it’s full overload. “Would you like a cookie?” “Here’s some fudge.” “I bought you truffles.” “Have a taste of this clotted fat!” (I’m not saying it did happen – but it could have when I wasn’t looking.)
If this wasn’t clear to me, it began on Friday, when Vicky went out for a Christmas dinner and brought me home – some pie! Cause, you know, I NEED pie. But it was done with affection and I gobbled it up with affection… and ice cream… Saturday, we went to Polly’s (a southern Californian treat) and I had the turkey dinner lunch (it was the dinner served in a lunch-sized portion) because I knew my Christmas dinner would be slightly different. You see, Vicky and I had made a plan… but more on that later. We went to Costco and picked up a pizza – and if you’re not already saying “Those two need to seriously go on a diet”, you will soon.
Sunday was our Christmas day as both sides of our families had crazy schedules. Mike was working. My mom was going out of town. So, okay, we started the day at my mom’s, and she offered us cookies and candy. Mind you, Vicky had already been making cookies at home for weeks and my employer had gifted us with a three-pound box of chocolate-covered cookies and I had been given fudge… I turned her down. Shocking, no? Then, it was off to Fontana, for dinner with the Pearson clan. I was good and only had one plate, ignoring that a single serving of Mama Pearson’s homemade mac-n-cheese (the recipe for which Jenn would die… and so would I) is the caloric equivalent of South America… I mean, eating it. The folks-in-law had asked us to bring pies, one lemon meringue (Mike’s fave) and one pumpkin (Steve’s fave). Vicky and I had bought them at Polly’s… and brought them back home with us because everyone was too full to eat pie. (And, yes, they’re still in the fridge.)
On Monday, we hit Knott’s Merry Farm (and, yes, the plays on words at that place make me want to vomit) and got some walking in… which was good… because after Mama Knott’s place was too packed to get a table and we opted instead for Popeye’s Fried Chicken our bodies were grateful for their brief reminder of health. By the end of the night, our fridge was overloaded with leftovers from Christmas dinner, leftovers from Popeye’s… and food for Christmas.
Here was the plan: we’d be bums on Christmas and eat crappy food… because, you know, we’d been eating so healthy up to that point. So, out came the 6-layer dip and the chips and the mini-corn-dogs. We even had taquitos in the fridge, which never got eaten because Vicky then added TWO boxes of candy to the mix.
I’m ready to puke. Seriously. On the keyboard. A day later.
We also opened Christmas gifts somewhere in there. Our favorite gift of the year? I think it’s Guitar Hero III on the motherfucking Wii (on the motherfucking big-screen TV). Vicky and I were taking turns playing it all Christmas morning and most of Christmas afternoon. Turns out, I rock… in a middle-aged writer kind of way. Vicky rocks completely in every way imaginable – but we already knew that.
The way I see it, we’ll need to rock hard – all night – anything to help me fit in my pants again!
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