Eating habits. And Christmas.

Soundtrack: CHRISTMAS SONGS! By Mariah Carey, Natalie Cole, Chris Rea, ABBA, you name it. I went out for lunch with two good friends from the University last Friday, and one of them gave a striking - if very appropriate - comment on my choice of dish. Seeing that I chose "chocolate cake with ice cream", whilst the two others had gratinated bread and vegetables and thus opted for something far more "healthy", as commonly considered, my friend found it reasonable to inquire: "How come I've never seen you consume a proper, nutricious kind of meal - as in EVER?!" Wherafter we all started laughing, pretty loudly, and I tried to talk my way out of it, arguing that we had mozarella pizza together once, and that there had to be some time when she'd seen me eat bread or baguettes or whatever, but she fended that off by describing what I usually have to eat when we're together - in the university cantine - which is neither pizza nor bread, in fact far from it; ie my beloved doubledecker; hence, I eventually had to give up, admitting to her allegations. Harsh, but true. I then explained, very humbly, how I do eat either sweet or "sensible", but that I also need both, and she accepted that (with a risible face). And then I offered them a taste of my delicious cake, and had them finally and entirely shut up about the matter. After all, I do eat chocolate for lunch and vegetable stew for dinner, no problemo. But it is a fact that I might want to re-consider my eating habits a bit. Could have chocolate cake for dinner as well, maybe? No, dear, might want to put myself on some kind of Hollywood-diet of spinach and egg whites instead. Ugh. OK, explanation time, and let's have a short story about how I tend to function as a physical being; probably relevant, since I'm so frequently decribing my more mental habits and my somewhar abstract, intellectual desires rather than confirming how I am indeed an ordinary human with ordinary human dispositions. (This is why this will never be a proper blog. I'm not nearly distressed enough, with wobbly knees and head aches, it simply doesn't concern me.) Thing is, I'm like a strangely built and slightly unpredictable automobile. I mean, I have no idea about cars, but the metaphor will have to do. I'm really an old bird; I've got well-worn tyres but I still roll. My body's like a machine. It needs maintenance. And the required type of gasoline for my tank is made of dark, sinful materials. In a very figurative meaning. Products you wouldn't normally recommend for a vehicle of my classification. A little more caretaking, some extra attendance and a round of polishing, and I'll be as good as new. Working perfectly, on every occasion. I'll bat my lighting eyes and flash my shiny paint and you won't be able to resist. Come to think of it, and quite amusingly, the whole car-parallellism also applies to many (other) sides of my personality. I do tend to be driven in the wrong directions, I often choke when pushed a little too hard. (See: early mornings and pre-exam stress.) And sometimes I experience engine failure. I wake up parked in unfamiliar garages and outside strange houses, I'm often incompetent in conversation and all I can do is grumble. Angry grinding. Or whooshing, as they say on "Doctor Who". But eventually, I get my dosis of sugar and caffeine and nougat, or the likes, and then I'm up to speed and chugging about at top gear. Never mistaken. So, maybe I'm like one of those cars people criticize but can't stop buying? Like Fiats and Ladas? Which are decent vehicles, but have particular demands - or, wishes - making them cars with true personality. My family's got a grey Fiat Scudo and it definately has a mind of its own. A very decisive one. And when it doesn't want to go any further, it doesn't hesitate to tell us. Bang! in the middle of the highway; my parents getting furious and itself playing dead. Yeah, now and then I do feel like turning off the ignition and just sit right down, somewhere inconvenient, behaving contrarily until someone feeds me chocolate muffins and cappuccino. Hang on, I think I've actually done that. But, odd behaviour set aside, it all comes down to a share of necessary input that I yearn for, and this leads me to another discussion with regard to something incredibly obvious, at the current moment:

We're closing in on Christmas, the time of year when folks around the world induldge in the best kinds of food the grocery stores have to offer; this one week when we allow ourselves to bask in numerous, luxurious gourmet dishes and all the sweets we can possibly gobble; why should that be anything different? Why is such gluttony an accepted tradition, and not my "improper" cake lunches? I enjoy my little piece of "Holiday"; my ordinary Christmas, if you like; every single day of the year. As long as one doesn't overdo it, that works excellently. I hate saving the entire load of fun for one specific period, into which you will then have to cram everything, and where you must take on the whole lot of amusement - which, again, often turns Christmas time into an overdose of forced-on pleasure, making it all the less amusing. But still, Christmas is very special to me, and will always remain so, it holds a special place in my heart that - on the whole - might need to be visited a little more often than with other people. Consequently, I can also enjoy every aspect of Christmas, albeit in smaller portions, because I know that January isn't the end of it, just the new start for my ongoing adventure of cookies for breakfast and brownies for lunch. And the rest of it. Haha. Mostly, I don't wish for Holidays to end. I think that's my biggest obstacle, and probably why I regard myself slightly childish. I like to do something completely "irresponsible", even during weekdays, in the sense that you move plans that were orgininally reserved for the weekends to an ordinary Wednesday. So let me emphasize, it's the same with Saturdays. I love Saturdays. They are the best. And because that makes me miss them, when it's Monday and back to school and boredom, and the lot, I grant myself some Saturday feeling on days that aren't even close to being Saturday. It's the notion, the atmosphere, of the Holidays, the vacations, the weekends; the relaxation and the tranquility. The good mood. It makes us genuinely harmonic, so why should we deny it? Yup, that is the überimportant morale of this (overly long) post is: there's no wrongdoing in allowing oneself this (or any) treat! Every day! It's the same as saying live everyday as though it were your last. Or: live life with a smile. Can't do that if you're thinking about nutrition all the bloody time, now, can you? I proclaim, let us fully delight in the happiness of the Yuletide, with its calories and crackers, and draw inspiration from how it teaches us to make others happy. Why do we (I) love Christmas so much; presumably because it's a fulfillment of these various elements of joy that we (I) crave, in life. It's an example of how good life can be, and thus; let it be an example to follow, closely, to teach us how to make our lives even better. Not consider all the dangers and possible weight gains. Not worry about the blinking, disturbingly fading light bulbs amongst the bright red decorations. There are plenty of problems in the Universe to deal with, already, we could surely use our Christmassy ability to push them aside during the rest of the year. For the lucky ones who can both afford and take part in the celebration, the ones who aren't lonely or sad or bound to go without Christmas dinner; count your blessings, instead of uncounting the days 'till you have to be "well-functioning" again. And revel in every day of Christmas as you revel in every other day you can spend with all the opportunities you've been given. That's my ideal. And when I feel like I can handle this irrealistic goal-making process, I drink an extra glass of wine and take an extra spin around the Christmas tree, give my dogs a proper hug and tell myself it surely could be worse.