No matter how much I run around in the month of December
I start to resemble Santa. And by that I do not mean the ho ho ho—ing or the
fluffy beard part—I mean the increased girth.
Because even though I tend not to be an over-eater
under ordinary circumstances holiday season is not ordinary. I do not have the
time to shop for or put together healthy meals. And there is too much
temptation—even if you only take a single bite. And if you add all those single
bites to the extra glasses of Pinot Griglio the sum is the need for more than
control top pantyhose.
I tried on my velvet jeans today. They fit well and
looked great. They did last year at this time too. But by the time I needed to
wear them in late December last year I had to lie down to zipper them up. And even
my silk blouse was a little too voluminous to tuck in. Plus I could not sit
down without fear that the seams would split.
With certainty I can predict the same thing happening
again this year.
A friend of mine wrote on Facebook that since her fat
jeans no longer fit she was contemplating buying some of those pajama jeans
they advertise on TV for $19.99 if you buy
now. I wonder if they come in velvet? Because I would pay money for those
for sure.
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