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Large Hearts and Full Figures
By Hillary Ibarra
When I want to wear my favorite pair of skinny jeans, I ask my husband to hold them 50 yards away from me.
Then I get a good running start before I pole vault into them. Next, I do a little ritual dance — something like an Irish jig and Russian hopak mixed together, with lots of kicks out to the side, hands at hips — begging for the seams to be strengthened for the fearsome battle they must wage all day.
I tried to deny that I was gaining weight, but I've taken to surreptitiously unbuttoning my pants while sitting, so that I can perform simple tasks like eating and breathing. And my jeans are sprouting stretch marks as if they're expecting tiny denim babies — quintuplets! Shockingly, one night while hoisting my curvaceous figure into lace lingerie, it ripped in half. I had to bury the gruesome evidence beneath my dresser, so that my husband wouldn't know what I've become.
I'm certain this change in my form can't be my fault. The humidity in Albuquerque must be making my thighs swell. In Phoenix the average humidity was a mere .0001%, but we moved away from hell's neighbor this past summer, so I didn't perspire as much as usual. Therefore — duh! — I am awash in water weight.
Or, as my brother-in-law Tim suggested helpfully, the decrease in air pressure is to blame. I live at a much higher altitude now, and the atmosphere is not doing its part to keep me compact. I could blow up slowly like a great big marshmallow (I'm pale enough), drift off into space and be mistaken for a "special shapes" hot air balloon next October during the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta.
Ruder people might suggest that because I started baking holiday treats before Halloween and snacking on peppermint chips daily, my hip and waist sizes are my own fault.
Phooey!
What I would like to know is why now? Sure, it's been a slow and steady process gaining this weight, full of complicated decisions to have another cookie or two, drink multiple cups of hot chocolate a day and indulge in more peppermint-flavored food. But how on earth can I be expected to lose weight at this time of year, around Christmas? I'm convinced Christmastime is when the universe tells us to fatten up for the long, bleak winter, devoid of any further excuse for eating pie and laden with failed resolutions that hang over our heads like holiday lights we should have taken down weeks ago.
I walk my dog in frigid Albuquerque temperatures. Can you really tell me that I don't need extra insulation?
A new philosophy to avoid becoming Grinch-like is what I propose. During the holidays, we shouldn't merely consider whether our hearts are two sizes too small. Perhaps we should take a look around, behind us, and ask whether our fannies are two sizes too small, too. I would go so far as to suggest that there is likely, almost certainly, most definitely a correlation between being plump and generous at Christmas. The more we eat the food we love, with all the homey memories it conveys through aroma and taste, and proudly bear the reminder of its deliciousness about our merry middles, the more likely we are to spread joy to others while simultaneously reminding them of Jolly Old St. Nick.
Do I hope to lose these extra pounds I've been entertaining lately? After Valentine's Day, certainly! Or I could just buy bigger jeans and sturdier lingerie. At any rate, right now the only motivation I feel is to whip up that first batch of fudge for my family in my kitchen. Big-hearted and big-bottomed, that's what I'm aiming for this Christmas.
I wish you all a season full of love and good cheer, residing in and spreading out from your large hearts and full figures. Merry Christmas and happy feasting!
— Hillary Ibarra
Hillary Ibarra is the author of The Christmas List. She has had several humor pieces published online, most at the incredible Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop blog. In 2020 she fervently hopes to return to Dayton, Ohio, for the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop. Read about her merry-go-round existence and the faith, family and friendships that keep it going at her blog, No Pens, Pencils, Knives or Scissors.