Let’s not gain 200 instead, that’s a bad joke, but let’s summon all the loathing we can muster for those truly fortunate - reprehensible - folks who can scarf down tons of food and never gain a pound/kilogram. Should such slim, strong, svelte-with-no-sweat souls, blessed by genetics and endowed with blind luck, be allowed to live? Yes? Hmmm.
Can we at least shun them, shoosh them? Yes? All right!
Phew. Now that they’re gone and now that we’ve put bitterness aside, let us discuss the best ways to not gain a ton during Christmastime.
First, the misconceptions.
You’d think that being a lousy chef yourself, or being from a family of terrible cooks, might help. No great eats to feast upon, right? Wrong. Unless you are dirt poor and boiling pebbles pretending they’re lentils, you’ll be ordering in. Not a good solution. Learn how to cook at least passably, palatably, so you eat for sustenance, not enjoyment.
Think that eating a case of carrots or a bushel of broccoli before you go Christmas gormandizing will curb the craving for sweets?
It won’t. Remember childhood, when we’d tell the parents that we couldn’t spoon a mouthful more of dinner, no, no, no, but that we had a separate, special, appetite compartment for dessert?
That hasn’t changed.
Second, the prescriptions.
At least try the leash. Lash yourself to the kitchen sink or the grandfather clock if you must go out, if only to prevent you from reaching all those cakes and cookies, cleverly showcased on pedestal china trays.
Perhaps (except you didn’t read it here and we never said it anywhere) instead of hitting the table, you hit the bar, getting stewed, not in the stew, but in the sauce, belting out Saaanta Closh Chritsblass carousles. Granted, you won’t lose a calorie but you may lose a few friends or family members, and that may be a plus.
What may work best is to go to a place where Christmas isn’t celebrated, like on the dark side of the moon. But, in missing favorite festivities - you’ll freak, get frightened and fire up an emotional eating binge to compensate. So that won’t work. Shoulda slotted this under misconceptions.
Life is cruel. How, pray tell, can we maintain discipline and dedication to fitness over fatness, a laudable goal assuredly, when righteous self-control is tempted by the devilishly glorious smells of Christmas cooking – and your mate, wearing the lampshade, is passing you “special brownies” from Colorado?
Try this “workaround” to beat back Christmas corpulence. Move mirrors. Or better yet, crack them so when you look at yourself you’ll see ridges. You’ll think you’re a ripped lad or lass.
Or command the one-in-every family geek-nerd-techno-whiz to take a break from hacking into the Pentagon and command them to do something useful for a change: re-calibrate the digital weight scales.
Further, beg that family smarty pants who, when not reorienting missile flight paths or reorienting the pathways of brainwaves, to whip up a program to either neutralize or remove those taste buds and have them tell us, while they are at it, why we are so cravenly enslaved to those taste buds in the first place.
What about this as a solution? Would buying a pet as a Christmas present help? It’s certainly a diversion. But looking at - and smelling that - pet food is gross, which will make the Christmas goodies all the more appealing. So don’t gamble on the new-gerbil gambit...Besides, you’ll end up taking the gerbil for walks when the kids get bored with it…
OK. This solution will work. Somewhat. Play table hockey. For 15 minutes. You’ll lose a few calories and gain boasting rights as you dash up the stairs telling everybody that you just clobbered your five-year-old nephew. (That the nephew can’t see over the table is entirely beside the point.)
Skating on some thin ice now, if you’ve delightedly downed some Bûche de Noël Chocolat, Pfeffernüsse Cookies, Struffoli, RISGRYNSGRÖT, Kourabiedes, and Chrusciki - it means, you’ve been on a Christmas traditional-treats tasting tour through France, Germany, Italy, Sweden, Greece, and Poland. Stop being so popular and rich. Stop being invited to so many sumptuous repasts. Of course if your life is a whirlwind tour of gourmet galas, perhaps carrying a few extra thousand pounds, kilos, or stone isn’t the worst thing in the world...
Here’s a tip we all can do. Be picky about candies and sweets. That is, don’t pick ‘em all.
Or, try this: You know those little entrees and desserts that are served with little sticks? Well, for every tidbit you take, take that now naked stick and put each one in a different pocket. Those little skin pricks will painfully remind you of your feastly-beastly habits.
Don’t wanna go there? Ok.
If all of the above hasn’t worked there is one drastic remedy – and no we aren’t talking the lap-band procedure remedy - that could work. One could become an atheist.
If, however, the familial opprobrium will be a cross too difficult to bear for you in your atheist strait-jacket shtick, instead of overly worrying about your weight shift during Christmas, be concerned yes, care, yes – but, you know what, do this: let none of the joys of this magical time be overlooked.
Carry on, and make merry this Merry Christmas ‘cause a happy person is a healthy person, no matter what the scale shows.
Look at Santa Claus.
Can we at least shun them, shoosh them? Yes? All right!
Phew. Now that they’re gone and now that we’ve put bitterness aside, let us discuss the best ways to not gain a ton during Christmastime.
First, the misconceptions.
You’d think that being a lousy chef yourself, or being from a family of terrible cooks, might help. No great eats to feast upon, right? Wrong. Unless you are dirt poor and boiling pebbles pretending they’re lentils, you’ll be ordering in. Not a good solution. Learn how to cook at least passably, palatably, so you eat for sustenance, not enjoyment.
Think that eating a case of carrots or a bushel of broccoli before you go Christmas gormandizing will curb the craving for sweets?
It won’t. Remember childhood, when we’d tell the parents that we couldn’t spoon a mouthful more of dinner, no, no, no, but that we had a separate, special, appetite compartment for dessert?
That hasn’t changed.
Second, the prescriptions.
At least try the leash. Lash yourself to the kitchen sink or the grandfather clock if you must go out, if only to prevent you from reaching all those cakes and cookies, cleverly showcased on pedestal china trays.
Perhaps (except you didn’t read it here and we never said it anywhere) instead of hitting the table, you hit the bar, getting stewed, not in the stew, but in the sauce, belting out Saaanta Closh Chritsblass carousles. Granted, you won’t lose a calorie but you may lose a few friends or family members, and that may be a plus.
What may work best is to go to a place where Christmas isn’t celebrated, like on the dark side of the moon. But, in missing favorite festivities - you’ll freak, get frightened and fire up an emotional eating binge to compensate. So that won’t work. Shoulda slotted this under misconceptions.
Life is cruel. How, pray tell, can we maintain discipline and dedication to fitness over fatness, a laudable goal assuredly, when righteous self-control is tempted by the devilishly glorious smells of Christmas cooking – and your mate, wearing the lampshade, is passing you “special brownies” from Colorado?
Try this “workaround” to beat back Christmas corpulence. Move mirrors. Or better yet, crack them so when you look at yourself you’ll see ridges. You’ll think you’re a ripped lad or lass.
Or command the one-in-every family geek-nerd-techno-whiz to take a break from hacking into the Pentagon and command them to do something useful for a change: re-calibrate the digital weight scales.
Further, beg that family smarty pants who, when not reorienting missile flight paths or reorienting the pathways of brainwaves, to whip up a program to either neutralize or remove those taste buds and have them tell us, while they are at it, why we are so cravenly enslaved to those taste buds in the first place.
What about this as a solution? Would buying a pet as a Christmas present help? It’s certainly a diversion. But looking at - and smelling that - pet food is gross, which will make the Christmas goodies all the more appealing. So don’t gamble on the new-gerbil gambit...Besides, you’ll end up taking the gerbil for walks when the kids get bored with it…
OK. This solution will work. Somewhat. Play table hockey. For 15 minutes. You’ll lose a few calories and gain boasting rights as you dash up the stairs telling everybody that you just clobbered your five-year-old nephew. (That the nephew can’t see over the table is entirely beside the point.)
Skating on some thin ice now, if you’ve delightedly downed some Bûche de Noël Chocolat, Pfeffernüsse Cookies, Struffoli, RISGRYNSGRÖT, Kourabiedes, and Chrusciki - it means, you’ve been on a Christmas traditional-treats tasting tour through France, Germany, Italy, Sweden, Greece, and Poland. Stop being so popular and rich. Stop being invited to so many sumptuous repasts. Of course if your life is a whirlwind tour of gourmet galas, perhaps carrying a few extra thousand pounds, kilos, or stone isn’t the worst thing in the world...
Here’s a tip we all can do. Be picky about candies and sweets. That is, don’t pick ‘em all.
Or, try this: You know those little entrees and desserts that are served with little sticks? Well, for every tidbit you take, take that now naked stick and put each one in a different pocket. Those little skin pricks will painfully remind you of your feastly-beastly habits.
Don’t wanna go there? Ok.
If all of the above hasn’t worked there is one drastic remedy – and no we aren’t talking the lap-band procedure remedy - that could work. One could become an atheist.
If, however, the familial opprobrium will be a cross too difficult to bear for you in your atheist strait-jacket shtick, instead of overly worrying about your weight shift during Christmas, be concerned yes, care, yes – but, you know what, do this: let none of the joys of this magical time be overlooked.
Carry on, and make merry this Merry Christmas ‘cause a happy person is a healthy person, no matter what the scale shows.
Look at Santa Claus.