In the United States we have the time honored tradition during the Holidays of getting FAT. Most people understand Holiday weight gain is as much a part of normal life as breathing, laughing and getting the runs after indulging in Granny's Figgy Pudding. MOST people eat the required amount of ginger snaps and candied yams without panic.
I do not fit the category of MOST PEOPLE.
I am TERRIFIED of Fat. I often have dreams about him. He and Satan are very good friends. Together they plot against me. They know what will tempt me. They use it to their advantage.
Fat wears a purple Moo-moo and has 4 gelatinous chins which wiggle and jiggle furiously as he chases me into a dark chocolate river. I'm helpless against the delicious river and become a veritable Augustus Gloop in suede Thigh-High boots.
My mother is on the bank of the river shouting, "Augustus, sweetheart, save some room for later!"
But I CAN'T save some room for later. I just CAN'T!
Temptation is too great. I indulge in a panic. My thighs become two enormous Beluga Whales, busting the seams of my beautiful boots. I am suddenly a water floatation device and find Oompla Loompas dancing the Irish jig on my face as they shove stuffed-crust pizza down my throat.
I have decided to train for a marathon in order to combat both Fat and Satan.
The two of them scoff at me and sneer, "You can run. But you can't hide!"
If I cannot hide, then I SHALL run!
I shall run 26. 2 miles and shout, "RUN! RUN! AS FAST AS YOU CAN! YOU CAN'T CATCH MEEEE! I'M THE GINGERBREAD MAN!"
Today I ran an easy 6 miles.
I'm totally lying. It wasn't easy AT ALL. The first three miles were a gentle downhill jaunt. I turned around and found the return home to be a trecherous, uphill battle with my nemisis, Fat, trailing close behind.
Even though I was prepared with a fancy Garmin satellite watch which tracks calories, distance, speed and the menstrual cycle of Kelly Osborn, I suffered trauma.
Fat panted in my ear, "Keep runnin, Sugar. When you get home there is a whole plate of Christmas cookies waiting for you. YUM! YUM! YUM!"
"NOOOOOOO!" I screamed, startling another runner. "I WILL NOT SUCCUMB TO YOUR ADVANCES, YOU DISGUSTING HIPPO!"
The other runner looked hurt and confused. I had no time to explain.
I ran faster and turned up the volume on my i-pod so as to drown out Fat and his taunts.
I happened to be listening to Pitbull's KRAZY. "LATINAS, THEY GET CRAZY.... YO MAMA SHE GETS KRAZY... JUMP UP LET'S GET KRAZY!"
It's true. Yo Mama, does get Krazy.
I reached my destination and slammed the door on Fat. I ate lean chicken breast, fresh veggies and four ding dongs... WHAT?! I'm weak.
Normal people in this country are happy to partake in Holiday feasts. They forgive themselves their trespasses. I wonder if they would change their tune if they knew Fat and Satan were in cahoots. ...Just a thought.
Happy Holidays!
