It's right after Thanksgiving, a few weeks to Christmas and Hanukkah. This is the typical time of year when people gain weight. I know, people gain weight at all times of the year, but the end-of-year holiday season is when those few extra pounds show up – all by themselves – totally unannounced and uninvited – more so than other times of the year.

I've always considered myself kind of lucky, because I can pretty much eat whatever I want without packing on pounds. In my 20's, I actually TRIED to gain weight. I thought I was too skinny. Now that the dreaded 'middle age' is here (how the hell did that happen?), I don't need to try so much. But it's still not food that gets me. It's beer. I love beer. Even bad beer is pretty doggone good. Wine ain't bad either. But beer? Oh yeah.

I've toyed with the idea of going to a gym to work out. Toying is about all I've done about it. It's way too easy to rationalize why I shouldn't go:

I can lift weights at home. (My weights are in the basement, under a couple of boxes and 4 pounds of dust.)

I can't afford a gym. (That part's true. Of course, if I didn't buy beer, I probably could afford it.)

I don't have the necessary time. (Pure bullshit.)

And one of my favorites – paraphrased from an old Bette Davis movie:
«I'd work out, but I just washed my hair.» (I don't have any hair to wash.)

So here I sit, getting fat. Now if you'll excuse me, I need another beer.

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