Americans do things to the umpteenth degree. If it's the holidays, then by golly, we're going to celebrate- until it almost kills us. The excess- oh the excess- of music, decorations (up before Halloween!) and the food.... the food. Cookie exchanges, work parties, secret Santas, not to mention surviving your own family get together by stuffing your face full. (Did anyone else make the chocolate cream pie on the December cover of Bon Appetit? Oh mes amis, this thing truly rocked).
And then, the calendar turns. January. We swing the other way. Serious dieting. Serious budgeting. Radio stations that used to play holiday music are now touting weight loss pills and credit management. Organizing your closet, cleaning out your car and toning your tummy are the segments I saw on this morning's local news. I actually tried to convince myself that I could see progress in my newly burgeoning pot belly from 2 measly pilates classes. Delusions, I tell you. They can be a dangerous thing.
Only 3.5 more weeks of January, and then we can all focus on being in love- not being in love- am I in love? Hopefully by that point, I can love my pot belly a little less.