DESPITE YOUR VOWS that this holiday season would be different, that you would not eat everything placed in front of you, that you would not spend your holiday on the couch watching television, that you would recognize that cookies and cheesecake are not an acceptable breakfast, that you would not, under any circumstances, gain the holiday five (10, 15, whatever) — despite all these vows, you still managed to pack on some serious weight over the past month. Now, in the cold, hard, fattening light of the New Year, none of your clothes fit properly, including the ones you received as gifts. They were purchased, of course, on the assumption that your pre- and post-holiday sizes would roughly coincide. Silly, silly friends and family.

The good news is that you will eventually lose those horrible, unwelcome additions to your waist, hips, thighs, and, in some rare and unfortunate cases, ankles. In your frenzy to do so, you may consider starving yourself. Don’t. It will only make you feel deprived, unhappy, weak, uncooperative, and whiny, and no one wants to be around you when you’re like that. Take it slow, begin a moderate exercise and food-reduction program (I refuse to use the D-word), and lose those extra pounds slowly and permanently — at least until the next holiday season.

In the meantime, how do you keep yourself from drowning in feelings of utter unattractiveness? I’ve assembled a list of tactics for surviving the fat times until happier days are back again.

Shop at Banana Republic. Banana Republic is a magical place where, no matter how many mountains of mashed taters you scarfed, you can still fit into a size smaller than you did before the holidays. We love this store and its kooky, mixed-up sizing system. We will only shop at Banana Republic.

Listen to your friends and family. As your nearest and dearest will undoubtedly tell you, no one has noticed how much weight you’ve gained. This may be because they’re all obsessing about how much they have gained, but we prefer to think it’s because you don’t look all that bad. Ninety percent of all holiday weight gain is all in one’s head. (Not literally, of course — at least, we hope not.)

If measurements are necessary, take them creatively. We’ve long dreaded the tape measure — in fact, we once nearly went into shock while having our hips measured for a maid-of-honor gown, and then indignantly insisted that the seamstress had used the centimeter side of the tape instead of the inch side. This post-holiday season, avoid the old bust-waist-hips thing. Instead, measure the circumference of your head. You probably didn’t gain an inch there, did you? Measure your wrist. Still the same svelte six inches it always was. To finish up, take a great big deep breath and quickly measure your chest. Bet you’re feeling better about yourself already.

Feel proud: you ate for America. You ate. You drank. You made merry. You got fat. But damn it, you did it for America. What the nation needed this holiday season was a swift kick in the economic keister to help break it out of the post–September 11 doldrums. The most patriotic thing a citizen could do this holiday was consume lots and lots of stuff. And you sure did your part. That extra poundage you’re toting isn’t just fat — it’s a big, fleshy bumper sticker that says proud to be american. Think of your weight gain as wrapping yourself in a heavy, swishy, warm American flag.

Find reverse role models. You know that extremely skinny model type who lives across the street? You see her heading out to the gym religiously every day. She seems to spend a small fortune on clothing. There’s a plethora of attractive men coming in and out of her house at all hours of the day and night. But does she seem happy? Of course not. She’s too consumed with being fabulous to find true fulfillment, the kind that comes from being cherished for who you are on the inside, not what you look like on the outside. (I know, I know — it’s tough to find someone to cherish your insides unless he or she first takes an interest in your outsides. Just work with me here, okay?)

Hide. If all else fails, and you just can’t gather enough delusional capacity to trick yourself into feeling good about feeling fat, the only thing left to do is disappear. Put on your roomiest sweatpants and fluffy slippers, rent 30 or 40 DVDs, pull down the shades, put Domino’s on speed-dial, stock up on three dozen pints of Ben and Jerry’s, and wallow. Wallow in the immensity that is you. Bask in the essence of rotundity that you have become. See how many separate and distinct rolls you can make with your tummy fat. Squeeze your saddlebags until they are so deeply dimpled that you could hide peanut M&M’s in them. Stare in the mirror for hours saying mean things to yourself.

Then, when you’re done, put on some dark glasses and a puffy down parka and go outside for a walk. And smile, because if this is as bad as it gets all year, you are very, very lucky. As we all now know, things could be a hell of a lot worse.

Kris Frieswick can be reached at krisf1@gte.net

Issue Date: January 3 - 10, 2002

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