Everyone has fears at the holidays:
The perfectionist fears she won’t get it all done.
The obsessive fears she won’t find the perfect gift.
The narcissist fears she won’t get the perfect gift.
The homesick fear they won’t get home on time.
Husbands fear their wives’ third glass of wine.
For most people, these are normal holiday stresses. For me, it’s a fear of food.
I fear it will be everywhere. I fear it will be delivered to my office. I fear it will be lurking in my refrigerator. I fear I will find it in my stocking, that my neighbors will bring it over, and that it will appear on my porch step in a box labeled Harry and David.
For people with weight control problems, this fear is very real. I’ve actually heard a baked potato call my name out loud.
It’s hard to explain to someone with normal brain function – one that says, “I’m full” 20 minutes after they eat. This function does not perform in my brain. I honestly could eat a cow and not feel satisfied. I think it’s because I’m Italian. I come from a long-line of Mediterranean women whose passion for life and lust for food simply has altered our genetic makeup over the years. You can laugh if you want, but it’s not funny when you see a brownie make eyes at you in the night.
Thankfully, I have my friends (personal trainers) at Fitness Together. They give me encouragement, support and power squats
For most of us, a successful holiday is spending time with family, presents under the tree, not offending the in-laws. For me, it’s not gaining weight.
Thank you Fitness Together. For the first time in years, I’m ready to face my fears.