Season's Eatings

I rolled back in the door after our last Holiday Party (this one had me at “fondue”) and felt something jiggle on the back of my waist.

What could that be? I wondered while slowly twisting around to my right, looking for the culprit. It felt as though a piece of ham from the buffet line had jumped onto my hip, but I didn’t see anything there.

I started up the stairs when I felt it again, this time on both sides, as I turned the corner into my bedroom. Face-to-face with a full-length mirror, clingy velvet top slightly raised, I immediately regretted the blankets of cheese I’d covered countless bread cubes with just hours earlier.

That jiggle wasn’t a piece of renegade ham stuck to my side, that jiggle was my side. A side of me I had never seen before.

But I am not to blame here. Weight Watchers is.

I know what you’re thinking: Weight Watchers? Aren’t they supposed to make us thinner?

And the answer is yes. But they won’t have much luck getting you to sign up for the “New Year, New You” special if you kick off ’09 a size four, now, will they? That is why, this time of year, they form an alliance with Betty Crocker, Eagle Brand Condensed Milk, and Absolut Vodka.

Think about it for a minute.

When else do you EVER eat this kind of crap? St. Patrick’s Day? Fourth of July? No. Holiday time. And not just some three-day-weekend-bank-holiday. I’m talking THE major gift-buying, hall-decking, wassail-imbibing, season of Festivus and the rest of us.

This is the time of year we are told we absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, possibly host a party, regardless of how well we can warble “Five Gol-den Rrrriiiiiinnngggs,” unless there is a fudge ring present, preferably from the kitchen of Mamie Eisenhower. So we eat our way through December, still digesting the leftover Halloween candy and Thanksgiving pie(s), convinced we are free – no, obligated – to consume anything served on a toothpick or poured into a sugar-rimmed martini glass.

Yep, Weight Watchers lures you into their calorie-counting lair with a co-dependent strategy. They make you think that anything rolled in bacon is sexy and a 600-calorie pomegranate-tini will make you popular.

And they wrap it up in Spanx and cover it with the little black dress.

But just when the last piece of confetti has fallen in the wee hours of the morning on January first, Weight Watchers will rip away that welcome mat from the buffet table and, suddenly and from out of nowhere, ambush us with new material.

“Look Fine in Oh-Nine!” they will suggest.

“Lose the Holiday Weight!” they will instruct.

“Come in Today!” they will demand.

But not me. Not this year. I’m not letting them have their way with my free will this time.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, I have no intention of bypassing my very titillating ritual of recklessly popping bacon-wrapped scallops into my mouth in rapid fire or making new friends one fancy party drink at a time, but I refuse to fall prey to their advertising once the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve.

How will I shed the extra layer(s) then, you ask? No clue. But I’m sure I’ll think of something next month, probably while sitting on the sofa in my sweats and polishing off the red and green M&M’s I plan to buy (for half price) the day after Christmas…


Eat, drink, be merry, and ENJOY the holiday season your heart holds dear. I’ll see you back here next week for a tribute to Jolly Old St. Nick!