Contrary to popular opinion, not everyone feels that they shouldn’t overindulge at Christmas. I positively look forward to this time of year when food is at an abundance, over-flowing from the fridge and spilling out of the kitchen cupboards. And not just your bog-standard every day kind of food, but the real unhealthy stuff, the ‘a-moment-on-the-lips-a-lifetime-on-the-hips’ kind of food.
This is a time when it becomes the norm to stuff one’s face. Lunch is often double the usual middle-of-the-day portion size. Dinner is followed by a miniature version of dinner wedged between two thick slices of bread only 2 hours later. After each course, a slab of cake, dollop of trifle or mound of pudding is required. And between all this, a constant grazing of crisps, nuts and cheese on crackers is standard, as are regular sweeteners of biscuits and chocolates.
This modest repast is washed, swilled and glugged down with ample quantities of liquid, usually alcoholic. All booze logic – if such a thing exists – goes out of the window. At any given time of the day or night it becomes acceptable to crack open a can or bottle. It isn’t that we consume the same drinks as the rest of the year but in larger volumes, either. The variety of beverages consumed and in what order would, if suggested on a regular Saturday evening, be quite unthinkable. Mulled wine, sherry and port are all quite tame in comparison to Eggnog (what is that anyway??), Babysham or a snowball cocktail. These sickly concoctions are drunk in between our usual beers, wines and spirits.
But really, what’s not to love about this? A heavenly time of year when we’re given an excuse to stuff our faces and do very little. Unlike the majority of the population, I usually see it as an opportunity to pig out with the intention of putting on weight. People struggle to understand this concept but the truth is I find it difficult to pile on the pounds and although I’m fairly happy as I am, I wouldn’t be adverse to adding a bit of extra padding in certain areas (a boney bottom causes one to suffer from a numb bum when sat for any duration on an uncomfortable chair!).
So Christmas usually helps in my fattening up for winter quest but sadly last year, it did not. I was unfortunate enough to be swamped with a horrendously snotty and billious-making cold a few days before the big day, so my appetite was just not as ferocious as it would normally be at this festive time. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t go without (it takes a lot to come between me and my food) but I just didn’t feel like eating everything in sight at every given opportunity, as I had expected to.
So, this leaves me with a new year dilemma. The waistband isn’t uncomfortably tight. The extra pounds have not stuck. And now we’re in January, there’s only one thing for it: I need to go on the opposite of a diet. Instead of slimming-down, over the next few weeks I’m going to keep a ‘bulking-up’ diary to encourage myself to eat a little bit more in the hope of becoming a little bit heavier. If I know Sod’s Law or the sickness of fate (and I think I do) my metabolism will suddenly change and I’ll wake up one morning, enormous and unable to get out of bed. The many people who have cursed my skinny frame over the years will point and laugh in my direction. Oh well, I guess there’s only one way to find out.
Watch this space!