Survival and Resolutions

Hallejulah. It’s over. Done. Finished. The holidays are past me.

I survived. Barely.

My house is de-Christmastized.

Tree down. Lights put away.

All that remains in my too tight pants, a looming Macy’s bill, and a long joyless January and February.

I need to reintroduce myself to my tread mill. Apparently 10 days off work includes an unwritten but obligatory over-indulgence rule. Egg-nog, bacon wrapped dates (heaven), roasted olives (more heaven), salted caramels, bacon wrapped tenderloin, cocktail shrimp, assorted cheeses and a deep dive into the brandy slush (no life preserver needed).

Now my pants are tight.

Or maybe they just shrunk? Yeah! That’s it. The ol’ Maytag screwed up my pants. Bastards.

Stupid brandy slush.

But it wasn’t stupid. It was oh-so-tasty and fruity brandy-slushy-liciousness that provided much needed coping mechanisms at otherwise stressful family gatherings where sedation is not only required, it’s encouraged.

Now I could take the “New Year’s Resolution” way out of the too tight pants debacle, and tape a few well articulated New Year’s Resolutions to my fridge about how I will eat, drink and spend less and, of course, exercise more.

But who’s kidding who. Haven’t you been paying attention? I’m the living example of ‘on-the-wagon-off-the-wagon’ when it comes to diet and exercise. Never mind the spending. That’s the whole other litany of blog entries I haven’t even tackled yet.

The only resolutions I have a snowballs change of successfully completing include drinking more champagne and perfecting the pork chop (mmm, I just love a good pork chop! Pigs are so tasty!)

Or spa treatments.

I could resolve to go to the spa more, get a few more massages, pop for facials or change up my toenail polish color more often while talking myself out of another round of abdominal exercises.

Perhaps the best resolution includes resolving to accept my weaknesses for what they are, work with what I have, and move on to tasting more kinds of tequila. Or I could simply resolve to do what I need to do to survive the holidays each year.

Wait. I’ve perfected that one. Brandy slush and bacon wrapped dates.

Check.

Commercialized Excess

I spent the better part of the weekend wrapping Christmas gifts. And when I was done, 2 days later, my living room was a practical example of Christmas commercialized excess. 

I know that society has been bemoaning the commercialization of Christmas  forever.  But for real. It's gotten out of hand.

I am not a practicing Christian by any means, but I do buy into the whole "Peace on Earth/Goodwill to Men" angle of the holiday.  The family aspect. The nice meal. The relaxing in front of the fireplace sipping a 1,000 calorie per glass of eggnog.  I am past the age of 12 and while I do appreciate a nice gift, it's not that important to me.  From my perspective, the magic of Christmas is for kids. 

While I do like buying a few well chosen gifts for close family and friends. There is a societal perception that one must pick up "a little something" for every person we come into contact with on a yearly basis in the spirit of the season lest you be labeled a Scrooge.  It's a layer of financial stress that I can't fully articulate. It has become a burden and not a joy.

This will come off as ungenerous and grinchy. So be it. I do consider myself generous and thoughtful gift giver but I'd rather do it on my own terms at any other point in the calendar year except the day when it is expected.  My thoughtful well chosen gifts are replaced with the mad dash of gift cards so I have "a little something" for a laundry list of names. And frankly...all those "little somethings" along with all the other expenditures of the season, the booze, the special Christmas dinner, the hosted events,  all add up to a big final total. A total that could be mistaken for a mortgage payment.

The commercialization of Christmas is real and it's exhausting.  The malls start with the decorations and the music before Halloween. Then there are the ads. The doorbusters.  The gazillionith rendition of White Christmas. 

As I write this, it's 5 days before Christmas and I, for one, can't wait for it to be over.  I am ready to settle down for a long winters nap.