I love Christmas. Always have. In no particular order, here are the reasons I love Christmas: Fairy lights. Mince pies. Tinsel. Christmas trees. Christmas ham. Wrapping paper. Roast potatoes. Getting presents. Giving presents. Sausage meat stuffing. Bread sauce. Christmas pudding with sugary whipped cream. Mariah Carey. Wham. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. My Christmas Wish by Britney Spears. Songs with bells in the background. We Need a Little Christmas. Selection boxes. Home Alone. Driving Home for Christmas. Excited children. The ESB ad. The Penney’s ad. The Cornflakes ad. Holidays are coming. Warmth, fireplaces, silliness. Glittery baubles. Lametta. Christmas ham sandwiches. Being surprised by presents. I just love Christmas. And I really do wish it could be Christmas every day.
This Christmas will be different. I still can’t really eat, so my Christmas dinner will be very different. I’m thinking I’ll have one bite of ham, half a roast potato and two bites of stuffing. With some bread sauce if possible.
I don’t want a selection box. But I might at some stage attempt a bite of pudding. Maybe. I’m not sure I want that either. A mince pie would make my chest explode. Anything too bready irritates my new tummy more than anything else.
To be honest, that’s absolutely fine. I’m fine with not eating very much. When you don’t really experience hunger, it doesn’t feel like deprivation.
My family are still bananas, so I’m really not sure how that’s going to go. But I’ll still love Christmas, no matter how things with my family go.
I’ll also find it less humiliating. Posing for photos won’t be as bad, though I still hate how big I am.
I won’t feel as guilty on my flight for ruining the flight experience of the passenger beside me because so much of my flesh is spilling into their space. Don’t get my wrong. My elbow will still be in the space of the person next to me and the tray table won’t fold down flat in front of me and I’ll still need to ask for a seat belt extension and therefore be banned from sitting in a row with an emergency exit on it. So being fat is still humiliating. It’s just not quite as humiliating now as it was before.
Today I went for my Christmas haircut. The giant bib that the barber puts around you when they’re cutting your hair actually fit around my neck! For the first time in years. Little victories like that make going outside easier. I can walk into the barber’s with a little more bounce in my stride.
And yesterday, when I was on the Tube, I slipped my fingers between me and the armrest and they fit!
The world isn’t designed for people who are 21 stone 11 (305 pounds/138 kg) (my current weight). But it’s designed even worse for people who are 28 stone 9 (401 pounds/183 kg) (my highest weight). The world should change. But I am delighted I’m changing. Every day has thrills for me now and seven days of family drama can’t kill that!
Merry Christmas everyone! Enjoy the mince pies on my behalf!