No I don’t particularly want to know I have to run a marathon to burn off a fruit-mince-pie. Nor do I give a flying fuck that a slice of glazed ham has me doing 1000 burpees.
And for the love of Jesus stop offering us “healthy” options at Christmas. As I scroll through “10 Healthy Christmas Treats” (the things I do in the name of research)– one particular “treat” caught my eye: Fudgy Brownies which by some Christmas miracle were nut free, grain free, gluten free, paleo, low carb. Out of morbid curiosity I had to click through to see the fuck is actually in these flat, sad squares of chocolate coloured sadness. Turns out they’re just a mix of sorrow, get a life, and pumpkin flour.
As for “tips to avoid overindulging at Christmas” – you might as well piss on my Christmas tree and put Santa in a sleeper hold. Eating until you are basically dead is the very essence of Christmas. How else will I know it’s 25 December if I’m not in a food induced coma? I also enjoyed the discovery that a food coma is an actual medical condition: Postprandial somnolence.
Ah this time of year is when these festive themed fitness gems re-appear: Merry Fit-mas and No Lift, No Gift. Seriously. Every. Year. Please – allow me to provide you with some original Seasons Greetings for your #blessed #fitfam: Merry put-your-stupid-fucking-weights-away-when-you’re-finished-with-them-mas. Or perhaps the more culturally sensitive: No lift, no muscle-tone-but-I-just-want-a-flat-stomach-and-big-butt-so-I’ll-do-this-workout-I-saw-on-instagram-instead.
So help me Lord survive this Fit-mas Season. Amen.
Wretched 