It’s Tradition!

So here it is, December, the jumping off place for my Just Do it Debbie Diet, my unorthodox and slightly eccentric weight management program that I self-inflict during the first two months of each year. If you are a faithful blog-follower, you may recall that every January 1, I stop eating everything yummy and force myself to stick to roughly 1200 calories a day for the next six to eight weeks. This is not fun. No. NOT fun. But for the past eight years, it has worked for me.

I lose one to two pounds per week and gradually ooze back into my medium and then eventually my small clothes (note: my “small” clothes are only relatively small to me; their tags do not reflect this distinction). If I haven’t been able to squeeze into at least one “small” item by Valentine’s Day, I stay on the Diet until the end of February, or until I lose my required fifteen pounds, whichever comes first. Then I eat whatever I want for the rest of the year and gradually gain the fifteen pounds back by the following Christmas. As a consequence, all my “large” clothes are red. Unfortunately, the last few years, I’ve reached my peak weight early and have celebrated several festive crimson Thanksgivings.

Full disclosure: I for the first five years, I was able to follow the Diet for only six weeks, but since my discovery of peanut butter M&M’s, I’ve had to add an extra two weeks to shed the extra M&M residue.

I’ve noticed a few interesting things over the years of my Just Do it Debbie Diet:

1. Everybody I know buys me chocolate during January and February. I add it to my already bulging Christmas stash and try to hide it from myself for the next never-ending two months. Then I make up for lost time. I guess that’s why I don’t stay in my “small” clothes more than a week or two. Sigh.
2. Food tastes so much better when you haven’t eaten it for two months. Especially butter.
3. Each year, my fifteen-pound weight loss/gain comes from a different location. It’s like a bizarre random lottery – which body part will shrink or swell this year? For example, three years ago, my bosom buddies (Freddie and Flopsie, the Bobbing Twins) disappeared. I turned into a middle aged Gumby. Two years ago, all the poundage gathered like beached whales on my outer hips (I call that area OOPS: Obstinate Orca Propagation Site). This year it collected on my inner thighs and I learned that friction really can set your shorts on fire. My hope for the spring is that the excess cellulite peels off like a banana and doesn’t congeal like overripe melon.

When people ask about Christmas traditions, I try to leave this one out. It just takes too long to explain. But I’d love to hear about your traditions, the more unorthodox, the better. Please take a moment to comment below. Hugs!