That Christmas Party Dress

So this is a piece I penned just before Christmas 2016.

The articles for fitting into that Christmas party dress are everywhere. They flood the internet, magazines and chat shows across the globe from Halloween onwards (and before in some cases). But the steady stream steps up its game from the end of November. The crisis erupts across the globe. Less than 2 weeks until festivities begin. We are in crisis mode. This isn’t just a Christmas thing though, all throughout the year, women and men across the continents are undertaking that ‘last 10 pounds’ for weddings, summer bikinis, parties or just for themselves.

Now, I’m a healthy weight, I know that (logically at least), I have those thoughts, they’re still there. Tapping away against the screen I built in front of them. And at Christmas that tapping gets louder. The knowledge of the looming feasts. It builds. But I too want to lose just a few pounds. Nothing drastic, as much as my thoughts might try to persuade me to. It’s my parents 25 wedding anniversary on New Year Eve. There a big party and a lovely dress.

The ‘last few pounds’ it’s gnarwing away at me. There will be photos (I hate photos), so I want to just slip a few pounds off. If for nothing else than to accommodate for the Christmas treats I’m going to be consuming. To balance the books. But in this, the problems lie. Navigating a genuine, quite ‘normal’ and healthy desire to lose a few pounds (SENSIBLY) before a big event with the echoing voices of anorexia.

We all know how quickly anorexia can unravel. It starts with listening to the thoughts a little and then boom before you even really blinked your stuck again. There has to be a way around it. I want to be able to indulge, safe in the knowledge that like the rest of the population I can then rectify any extra Christmas pounds. I don’t want to end up falling flat on my face every time I try to stand again because my legs are just too weak. It’s alright you can laugh (please do, pity is unbearable), it’s a funny sight especially when one refuses to believe their legs are incapable and try over and over again. What is it they say, the first sign of madness is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, it’s a good job I’m already well certified.

I’m weary of exercise, it’s caused me problems in the past. I’m also fundamentally lazy. I’m weary of restricting too much or setting too many rules. I’m also weary of doing nothing at all and the likelihood of ensuing eat puke cycles. So I’m going to walk. It seems a safe middle ground. Not too much craziness can be had from walking. It’s good for you, all that Cardiovascular exercise and it can be really quite lovely especially wrapped up at this time of year. I got a Fitbit for my birthday, exactly one month before Christmas — I’m not sure how much I walked before, but I’m going to walk 10,000 steps every day from now until Christmas. Even as I set this goal, the recommended goal — even as I went to type it out — there was flicker of what about 12,000 or 15,000?! So to say my anorexia is cured because I’m a healthy weight would be absurd. Having that monitor on my wrist could be dangerous. I know how this could all go down.