The January blues

Just a fraction of the booze consumed at the office xmas party...

It’s the third day of the new year and I finally feel sober enough to write my first entry of 2011. After a month of quaffing and scoffing just about everything I could lay my hands on it finally feels time to start that customary January detox. The detox I can guarantee will last until the end of the week before I succumb to ‘just one glass of wine’ and a couple of chocolate hob nobs.

As each year passes I’ve noticed the festivities seems to begin earlier. No longer can I simply write off the month of December as the party season; my diary during the latter part of November is now also filled with Christmas revelry. Whilst forcing myself through my umpteenth consecutive Christmas party I realised even the free cocktails had begun to lose their appeal. Along with the canapés, which now looked less appetising than a frozen Christmas dinner for one from Iceland. 

Add this to trekking through treacherous snow and compacted ice in stilettos at 4am in search of a vacant cab and it’s no wonder that by the time Christmas day finally arrives I’m nursing a twisted ankle, an outbreak of flu and a nasty crop of spots. But never being one to ruin the season of goodwill I’ll pour myself a glass of bucks fizz with breakfast and be on the sloe gin by lunch.

By the time boxing day comes around and the boredom sets in, a whole host of monstrous and humiliating festive photographs begin to appear on Facebook; bringing with them further reason as to why I should never drink again (which is, of course, one of my new year's resolutions) and forcing me to spend the day rooted to my computer, de-tagging frantically. And all the while I'm thinking 'Why?! Why do I do this to myself?!' It seems yuletide is deemed as an excuse to completely write off all kinds of embarrassing and downright disgraceful behaviour.

Determined to turn over a new leaf, on new year's day I decided to enter a place I’ve pretended didn’t exist since the 20th November (which, in my head is when the festive season begins). A place where a considerable chunk of my monthly salary seems to disappear. The gym. Needless to say it was a hellish experience. Any ordinary day the place is half-full; with a few people dotted around on exercise machines and the rest donning leather gloves and posing around the weights section. On this occasion I could barely squeeze myself through the door without joining the queue for the treadmills. 


After fighting my way onto a cross-trainer, my workout was cut short by several pairs of beady eyes staring at me with disapproval when they realised I intended to stay on the machine for over 15 minutes. Apparently new year brings with it an unspoken rule that one must be considerate of other fatties who over-indulged themselves during the festive season.

After working off the equivalent of one mince pie, I decided to reward myself by heading to the jacuzzi, sauna and steam room to relax my aching muscles and attempt to sweat out some of the alcohol. Whilst there I worked out that to healthily lose the weight I’d gained over Christmas would take me until… November 2011.

When the whole process starts all over again. Oops...