That’s a catchy clickbait title, is it not? Too bad the holidays are over. Are they over? I lost track of what day it was as soon as we hit December 27. Is it 2018 yet? Are we on Mars? Where are my teeth?
If you came across this blog because I tagged “fitness”, and were hoping for some workout tips, I’m sorry. You aren’t going to be receiving any. There are far more qualified people to help you in that department.
Now I feel bad.
Here’s your workout instructions. Is that a thing – workout instructions?
Do jumping jacks for half an hour, while continuously reciting the alphabet backwards. That way, you exercise your body and mind! If you get tired of the alphabet, start singing Happy Birthday, backwards.
.you to birthday Happy .Paul dear birthday Happy .you to birthday Happy . you to birthday Happy
Once you’ve mastered that, you’ll have about 13 minutes left to think about what you want for dinner.
The title of this post is from a joke I made all the way back in 2015, where I said “How To Lose Weight Over The Holidays” would be a How-To book I could write and make millions from.
Instead, I’ve decided to share my secrets via blog, for free.
For the last three years, during the Christmas holidays, I have somehow managed to lose weight.
Don’t be jealous; be amazed. I know I am.
Let’s go back to the holiday season, circa 2014. I was sick. I don’t remember much else, other than feeling like someone put a piano on my head and told me to keep it there until they found another place for it. It took them about six days to find another place for it. Jerks.
Does everyone’s head feel that heavy when they’re sick?
Anyways, because I was sick, I didn’t have much of an appetite. Once I was better, I made up for the days I missed. And yet when the first week of January rolled into town, I had still managed to lose a few pounds.
As for 2015, I was sick again around Christmas. But this was worse. I got food poisoning from something. I narrowed it down to stale Chinese food or McDonald’s. I refuse to believe that Ronald McDonald and his cast of misfits would harm me, so I blamed the Chinese food, naturally.
I couldn’t keep food down. Give Paully a cracker, and Paully puked it up.
The kids on the street called me Pukin’ Paully.
You know what the best thing about vomiting is? When you’re halfway through the process and think to yourself, “This will be over soon and I’ll start to get better.”
You know what the worst thing about vomiting is? Besides the smell, sweating, heaving uncontrollably, having one of your legs fall asleep, the smell, and the smell.
The worst thing is when you feel like you’ve given everything you thought you had in you, and then realize you still have more to give at a later time. It’s as if my body was pulling things from my reserve (I’m a
polar Paular bear) and making me give it up.
That last paragraph was about vomit, just so we’re clear and grossed out.
You all love me, don’t even deny it.
2015 ended in a rough way. I missed out on Christmas lunch with the family, but they brought leftovers home and I made the executive decision to eat them – it was my first meal since Adam & Eve walked the Earth, or so it seemed.
By that point I needed food. And I like to think that food needed me, too. Why? Because it would go stale otherwise. Why else? Did you think this was some romantic reunion between Paul and food?
Hey pasta, lookin’ saucy!
So when this year rolled around and I developed a sore throat a week before Christmas, I thought I was in for another cuddling session with the toilet, or garbage can, whichever had a firmer grip, honestly.
And then the sore throat went away and I was the modern day Dobby. I was a free
elf Italian! Ready to eat the cookies and sweets and everything my fork meets.
Surely, 2016 was the year I would gain weight over the holidays and fit in with everyone else, while not fitting in to my pants.
Christmas lunch kicked things off. There was pasta, meatballs, chicken, salad, bread, and pastries – a relatively small feast compared to other years. We had leftovers for three days.
Scratch that, I had leftovers for three days because I called dibs on them and my family really didn’t care.
Hearing, “You’re the only one who’s going to eat it” brought a Grinch-like smile to my face.
My Nonna makes the best pasta, okay. This was a delicacy I only get once a year. I had to savour it.
On Boxing Day I went to a restaurant downtown with my sister because it was part of a Christmas gift for me. That was another filling meal.
After finishing the Christmas leftovers on Wednesday night, my next mission was to eat like a pigeon until Friday, when I’d be at a buffet by day, and a surprise party by night, which was host to the best lasagna I’ve ever had.
I’m going to be mentioning that lasagna until at least mid-April on this blog, so get used to it.
Saturday was a day of digestion.
Sunday was New Year’s and my family continued the annual tradition of going to a Chinese buffet.
Listen, I know I talk about buffets, and pizza, and pizza buffets a lot on this blog, but I’m not at buffets all the time, nor am I eating pizza every other day. I just mention them because it’s what I’m known for on here.
I can’t just change my image now and start talking about my love for cheddar cheese.
That’s enough of that. Back to the Chinese buffet.
I caused a bit of a scene.
We sat down with our first plate of food and my Dad noticed that he didn’t have a mini spoon at his spot. None of us did. He noticed because he got dessert with his first plate and the dessert called for the usage of a small spoon.
Pro Tip: When at a buffet, get dessert with every plate. That way, when you’re full and don’t have room for dessert at the end, you’ve already had it. Plus, you can’t resist the dessert section for that long.
When I first started doing this in front of my friends, years ago, they thought I was nuts. They have since converted to the dark
So I did what anyone in my situation would do. I took a small spoon from the table next to us. I waited until the coast was clear and no waiters were around, and then snatched the spoon.
But I have unfortunate timing. So as I’m bringing my arm back to my body, spoon in hand, I look up and see a waiter staring. I stared back in defiance, like an animal in the wild. They didn’t do anything. I had gotten away with it!
Except for some reason when I grabbed the spoon, I must’ve knocked the fork because it was now sitting on the floor. I left it there for 31 seconds, thinking about how to deal with it.
How do you dispose of a dirty fork?
Option 1: Pick up the fork and put it back on the table.
Reasons To Do It: Who would know?
Reasons Not To Do It: The 5 Second Rule was no longer in effect.
Option 2: Hide it in the fake plant next to my table.
Reasons To Do It: Who would know?
Reasons Not To Do It: Spoons are better for digging.
Option 3: Put the fork on my plate when I’m done eating, and tell my parents to tell the waiter they can take the fork as well, as I go up for my second round of food and successfully avoid the situation altogether.
Reasons To Do It: Because I’m guilty.
Reasons Not To Do It: None.
So that’s what I did. Option 3. The comedian inside of me really wanted to do Option 2. But I couldn’t do that to the fork. It had a family.
This is where things get fun.
For the next hour, the table next to us was left empty. I was almost worried I wouldn’t be around for the moment when someone realized their fork and spoon were missing.
And then the Heavens opened up and a family arrived. I started snickering like a school girl the second they sat down.
This family took forever to order drinks. Finally, they went to get food and came back a few minutes later.
“I don’t have a fork. Hey (brother’s name), grabbed a fork off the table next to you.”
And so he did.
I had created a chain reaction of fork snatching.
The person didn’t realize they were also missing a small spoon because they, clearly, didn’t get dessert with their first plate.
The following day, I went to Pizza Hut, as you all should know from my previous post.
What is this post about again? Oh yeah, weight loss.
After all of these food excursions – way more than I’m used to in a short period of time – I hopped on the scale yesterday and found out I had lost one pound since the holidays had begun.
I have a search party out looking for it. It goes by the name, 172.5, but may have an alias if it latched on to someone else.
I did it while eating absolutely everything, and without smelling my own vomit. Who knew that would be possible?
Feel free to try my methods at home. Results may vary.
Don’t try any of this at home.
Bonus Pro Tip: Leave the belt at home when you go out to eat, just as long as your pants stay up. It isn’t 2002 anymore. Keep your pants up and your food down.
Note: I’m not really a glutton. This blog post just makes me sound like one. Yay carrots and celery.