I am currently trying to lose weight. As the handful of patient people who read my blog regularly might know already, I’ve spoken up on behalf of fat runners and fat people in general. So wanting to lose weight may seem contradictory to some, maybe it is. I’ll get into that some other time, right now I want to talk about weight gain over the holidays and the insanity it inspires.

I’m currently a Weight Watchers member. It’s the only sane way I know of to try to lose weight. I’ve tried many dysfunctional ways to lose weight including subsisting only on juice. So writing down what I eat, trying to eat fruits and vegetables and whole grains more, and getting in some physical activity seems downright lovely in comparison. Trying to lose weight in any way in our food-obsessed culture, though, can be neurosis-inspiring.

I overheard a very anxious woman at the scale the week before last: “Lisa, we’re not doing the ‘plate’ meeting this week are we? I don’t want to miss that and I can’t stay tonight.”

“No! Don’t worry, it’s next week, mark your calendar.”

The “plate” meeting is the last Weight Watchers meeting before Thanksgiving. D-day. The biggest eating day of the year. We are given paper plates to write down all the foods we plan to eat on that day and total up the caloric damage. The meeting is as serious as an SAT prep course as we scribble all those comfort foods, the foods we’ve loved since childhood and associate with good memories, or at least some temporary good feelings as we cope with our particular family dynamics. We get ready to realize how costly these foods really are and steel ourselves for the bad news. Half a cup of mashed potatoes?! Who eats half a cup of mashed potatoes? I could live on my mother’s butter and milk drenched mashed potatoes alone and be a very happy camper. Our meeting leader lightens the mood after telling us a serving of wine is 4 oz (I don’t know if you know what that looks like, but it ain’t the serving you’re used to) by telling us how many “points” (Weight Watchers calories) an entire bottle of wine is. Ah, now THAT is information I can use.

By the end of the meeting, however, I am having an adverse reaction to all this information and anxiety. I want to scream, “It’s just one damn day! Why does it have to be such a big deal?!” But, I know why it is. Thanksgiving is just the beginning. There’s leftovers and holiday shopping stress and then the Christmas season constantly whacks you over the head with co-workers bringing cheer in the form of lard-laden baked goods and visiting relatives that expect to eat and drink with abandon.

My Thanksgiving this year is at my sister-in-law’s. She is a disciple of the Paula Deen “butter makes everything better” school of cooking. A couple of years ago they deep-fried a turkey. Fortunately I think they’ve got that out of their system after spattering oil on their carpets. But I can count on some deadly desserts, a lot of fat and no vegetables. Or at least no vegetables in a form recognizable as vegetable matter. Green bean casserole may have once been green beans but after the butter and milk and cream soup, it doesn’t look or taste much like a vegetable any more.

I am thinking about making an actual vegetable so I know there is one thing I can eat as much as I like of, but bringing a healthy dish makes you ripe for ridicule. It’s Thanksgiving! You’re supposed to eat until you feel sick! You’re supposed to gorge on an entire week’s worth of calories and then roll over to the couch and collapse into a food-induced coma! It’s festive! People look at your vegetables as though they are being judged by them and they don’t appreciate it. Stupid kill-joy vegetables. How dare you bring your sanctimonious healthy dish to Thanksgiving! What kind of Commie are you?! I’m just not sure I can deal. It’s going to be hard enough to fight off the food-pushing. The “c’mon one more helping”s  and the actual dishing of the food right onto your plate whether you ask for it or not. Seriously hate that. Do not just put food on my plate, guys. I love you, but food is not love. It’s food.

Trying to de-tangle holiday food from love and familial obligation and stress is a really sticky thing and trying to avoid gaining the much discussed 5-10 holiday pounds (or even just one) is even trickier. We’re seriously insane about food. You’re not supposed to be fat, but you’re a fun-free zone, a social outcast, if you try to eat in moderation. How many calories is a bottle of wine again? Liquid can fill your stomach quite nicely, people! (I am not advocating drinking your way through the holidays. Drinking is bad, mmmmkay? Now drugs, on the other hand, are calorie-free.)