Now I am down to one pair, and if eat even one more bite of a neighbor's gift of food I will soon have to resort to wearing sweatpants, or perhaps even waddle into Omar the Tentmaker's Dress Shoppe for Ye Queen Sized Women.
I started the season with good resolve. I did. I swear it's true.
But then somehow some tiny, eensy, weensy little bites of the savory crackers and baked caramel corn I made for neighbors made their way delicately into my body. When the neighbors began their Christmas deliveries of 12 pound platters of cookies, fudge and peanut brittle, things went downhill fast. Christmas wreaths made of cornflakes, green tinted marshmallow fluff and decorated with red M&M's seemed kinda/sorta healthy...corn is a vegetable, right?
And from that slippery slope of logic, things got even worse.
I realized Christmas night that I might have gone just a little berserk in the over-indulgence scenario when Mr. Jenny and I had a conversation that went something like this:
Me: Oh gosh. I am out of butter. I need some butter so I can make the breakfast casserole to take on Sunday.
Mr. Jenny: Butter? Are you kidding? You're kidding right?
Me: No. I'm not kidding. And while you're out, can you pick up some milk?
Mr. Jenny: I'm still stuck on the butter thing. How did you go through that entire semi-load delivery of butter that you got at the start of the holiday season?
Me: I don't know. I just did. Go get the butter please. Now. Two pounds should do it.
Mr. Jenny: Seriously? Do you seriously want me to go and buy butter? Tonight? When you had something like 412 1 pound boxes of it in the refrigerator just a few days ago?
Me: Listen. Don't push me here. Go. Get. The. Butter. I'm not screwing around here.
This little, loving conversation did end happily because Mr. Jenny did go out and hunt heroicly to find a store open on Christmas day, and he came back with the butter.
But now that the euphoric rush of Christmas joy and goodwill is dimmed somewhat I am now possibly aware that the 414 1 pound boxes of butter combined with the 32 pounds of sugar and flour and the 23 pounds of chocolate might have somehow, someway not been the very best of ideas.
I'm just tired even thinking about the whole debacle of gaining weight over the holidays.
Next year I swear I am not getting chaffing thighs and a jellied belly for Christmas.
I mean it.
But since Santa already left them for me this year, I should really just finish off this left-over caramel corn. And maybe the last two pieces of fudge.
My neighbors might think I'm ungrateful otherwise.
And this is a time of peace, harmony and goodwill among men, right?
Tomorrow I will do better. I just know it.
But just in case, do any of you have any coupons for Omar the Tentmaker's Dress Shoppe?