Dear Santa - A List We Could ALL use for the New Year

Dear Santa…

There are some things I’d like for the New Year. I know that’s not within your usual bailiwick, and you’re probably pooped from a long sleigh ride, but if you don’t mind…

First, please give me good health.

My body carries me faithfully from before my birth until my last days. I abuse it and overuse it. I overfeed it and undersleep it. Yet rarely do I appreciate it. Nonetheless, it usually works amazingly well. It doesn't seem to smile as much as I'd like (and it's not quite the size I wanted) but in all modesty, it's pretty cool.

My eyes can enjoy the magnificent pink of a rich sunset. My nose can inhale the deep, full scent of a spicy stew simmering slowly on a blustery winter afternoon. My ears perk up to the reassuring tap-tap-tap of light rain on my roof in the middle of the night. And the touch of a lover's hand on my skin, can in a moment, calm and excite me at the same time.

Remind me that whatever else I have is worth nothing without my health. When I bend without pain or breathe deeply without effort, make me smile. Let me remember that this is the truest, purest blessing of all. Through this miracle of life, I experience all the universe has to offer.

Secondly, please strengthen my connection to family.

There are those who came before me; and there are those for whom I am responsible whom I will never meet. Even so, we are connected. In that chain, I am a vital link, the entirety of all that has gone before me and the bedrock of generations still unborn. Each in that string is a part of me as I am of them. We are all of the same stuff.

Through the ages and across the miles; today, yesterday, and tomorrow; we will guide each other when we are lost, and we will pick each other up when we fall. Everything I do reflects upon my ancestors and shapes my children of future offspring. I am inextricably connected across time. Remind me each day to take time for my family.

Teach me to be a better friend.

The Perfect Gift

I have trouble accepting that a "lightweight, high power vacuum cleaner" is really the "perfect gift" for Mom, even if - "But wait, there's more!" - they throw in the "super-compact, handy-dandy spot cleaner" when ordered in the next ten minutes.

"Merry Christmas, Mom. How about cleaning the carpets?"

It doesn't ring "holiday spirit" to me; maybe I'm a Grinch.

I am dubious that a pair of shiny, brushed aluminum, "decision dice" - with no shipping charges if ordered today - is the ultimate present for indecisive family members. With a flick of the wrist, they suggest "never" or "think hard." Yet, it doesn't seem the best idea to show Aunt Martha I was thinking of her during Hanukkah.

Although I dispute the claim that the "Cat Lady Action Figure" is the ideal present for the pet lover on my list, I find it humorous, possibly because my wife is a "cat lover" and that toy would provide me with fodder for playful teasing. Unfortunately, "ideal presents" do not include repercussions causing me to have to sleep on the couch, so I scratch it off my list.

"Perfect" is unattainable. Therefore, I now present a few gifts that LEAST serve dieters' needs:

1) Tins of cookies, nuts, or fudge. I would not give wine to Uncle Al, celebrating his three years of sobriety; why provide similar temptation to one learning to control his eating? I say I'll only "have a taste," but it's an amazing coincidence that the size of that taste exactly matches the amount in the container. Add to that a hangover of guilt and shame and this is not a good present for me.

2) Loose fitting clothes. After a month of excess consumption, what I need most is to regain control, not soft, cushy, expandable-waist sweatpants. In less-controlled days, I was even inclined to don a cheerfully decorated, flowery Hawaiian Mumu come December's end. If it didn't clash so terribly with my tie, I might have taken the leap. A belt is a better idea.

3) Another remote control. It's tough enough to fight the coach potato syndrome when it's warm, let alone when the sky is dreary and the sidewalk is soaked. Place a remote in my hand and a brightly flickering 42-inch plasma screen in front of my face, and the recliner will simply swallow me whole. My first step in my new year's exercise plan could be shutting off the TV.

Reality is that the perfect gift is not purchased via cash or credit card, nor wrapped in shiny red boxes topping with sparkling bows. The perfect gift would be the tranquility of self-confidence, the blessing excellent health, the joy of a happy family, and peace and abundance for each person on Earth.

I assure you no one would return that. Happy Holidays.

The Night Before Christmas

(with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)

‘Twas the night before Christmas
And all though my kitchen
Was cuisine of all kinds
Quite a bit — not a smidgen

The counter was covered with
Pies, turkey, and ham
And up on the stovetop
Ten pounds candied yams

Near a huge chocolate Santa
Lay Hanukkah gelt
Treats for my Jewish friends
'twould be appreciated, I felt

Eggnog in glasses
Filled with spiced rum
I downed several cupfuls
My downfall’s begun

Cookies and nut rolls
And cakes of all kinds
I thought of my diet
But paid it no mind

Like a shopper after Christmas
I'm off on a mission
To rid future temptation
I’d empty the kitchen

First came the carving
Of drumstick and thigh
Giant mounds of potatoes
Next piled quite high

I downed a whole bird
The seasoning and such
And turned toward the casseroles
“That's really not much.”

First a scoop, then a ladle
A bowl, and then four
I inhaled them quickly
And went back for more

On the table were sauces
And dressings made of nut
At the instant I ate them
Came pressure in my gut

So I paused for a moment
I needed some air
So much more to savor
This doesn't seem fair

I thought about stopping
These holiday dishes
Brown gravies, white sauces
They’re just so delicious

My belt it was stretching
My pants were too tight
But leaving these goodies
Was certainly not right

Just one more small taste
And then off to bed
When then I did spy
Cookies - part green and part red

Star-shaped and snowflakes
All covered with sweet
A great way to finish
After twelve pounds of meat

I reached for the cookies
To put more food in
When suddenly I saw him
Dressed in red, with a grin

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" came his bellow
Then he saw what I ate
Every pan now was empty
And so were the plates

My stomach was bulging
My pants set to split
I felt really awful
Whether I stand or I sit

I wanted to be friendly
But couldn't make a sound
I needed full focus
Just to hold it all down

He stared quite intently
His smile, it was tacit
And said, "Here's your gift"
Eight gallons of antacid

For an article on handling holiday eating, follow this link.
For an article on handling holiday stress, follow this link.

The eating season

Dangerous days for dedicated, disciplined, dieters have descended. We now thunder headlong into an unending haze of fudge mints, eggnog lattes, and walnut cranberry honey stuffing. Activity and exercise levels, formerly consisting of lengthy walks through the trees and afternoons of yard work, plummet to gluteus-maximizing extended sessions plopped on the couch, watching television - a pyramid of cold mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce ever at the ready on the overflowing coffee table.

Some believe the "eating season" (as it should formally be named) begins in late November. In fact, as reliably as the annual return of the swallows to Capistrano, it opens with the first sighting of holiday ornaments in greeting-card stores, a much-heralded occurrence starting earlier each year. One day I'm dedicated to following my program. Twenty-four hours hence, holiday angels and cute ceramic teddy bears hanging from twinkling window displays pronounce, "Cast your waist to the wind. The holidays are here. Diet in January."

The zenith of this landscape of non-stop in(di)gestion is Thanksgiving.

With platters of sumptuous food extending beyond the horizon, this is the single celebration forcing dieters to dress appropriately. Oh sure, "Don we now our gay apparel" applies to holiday finery on Christmas; but Thanksgiving - being also a test of endurance - requires shrewd planning. In the same manner that one would not run a marathon in a sequin-covered ball gown, it would be folly to attempt Thanksgiving's feasting in street apparel.

The following advice is for professional eaters only; do not attempt without supervision.

Be meticulous about choosing expandable outfits for that day, preferably sans belt; soft, non-binding, elastic is my preference. Sweat pants, over-sized shirts, and large loose dresses are prized. (I have even considered wearing a Hawaiian MuMu but it clashes with my shoes.) As practiced athletes, pace caloric intake, starting cautiously before noon, careful not to peak too early, lest three cold-turkey-mashed-potato sandwiches, and half a pecan pie go uneaten before bedtime.

Staying conscious with so much food is indeed a challenge.

Yet, seriously, do remember that millions sleep on empty stomachs. Our unrelenting nag of dieting could be portrayed as a "curse of prosperity." While too many starve, we are so fortunate - so our concern is learning to consume less.

Stay aware about much you eat on Thanksgiving. Be thankful that you must.

For an article on handling holiday eating, follow this link.
For an article on handling holiday stress, follow this link.

About the author: Scott "Q" Marcus, THINspirational speaker and author. Since losing 70 pounds 12 years ago, he conducts speeches, workshops, and presentations throughout the country. His book is available at www.TheEatingCycle.com and he can be reached at scottq@scottqmarcus.com or 707.442.6243.