Memoirs of a Fat Girl

It was a good holiday. Holidays are always good, just for the sake of being holidays, but this one had that touch of extra sparkle.

There was a tree. We always have a tree, even if it is a fake one, bedecked with the pastel coloured baubles that moms just adores. There were lots of presents underneath that tree, and we tore into them, as we always do, on Christmas Eve.

I love watching my family open their presents. Like most shopaholics I put a lot of care into who gets what, even if I don’t do most of my own wrapping. I have ten thumbs, so that’s Oli’s job.

Oli didn’t get her Furla bag just yet, but I think she was happy with the bevy of perfumes I’d chosen. She’s one good smelling girl. I’m pretty sure Corey loved his autographed hockey puck, Dad his movies, and moms her gigantic book of world satellite photos. She’s a geography buff.

We all love watching Blue open his present. Christmas is for everyone, after all, even our pets. He fights with the wrapping paper, digging at it with frenzied barks, ecstatic about what’s inside. In this case, an Orbee ball, organic cotton teddy bear with a built in squeaker, and bone-shaped tin full of yogurt dipped biscuits.

I had my own little gift pile too, of course: a flatiron, gift certificates for the local, independently run coffee house; a seahorse tree ornament, and a Mini vest from one of my cousins. As in, the Mini car dealership where I got Joey; not a teensy tiny vest.

Christmas morning at home, we went through our traditions with the best of them: slouched to the table in our pajamas, and ate breakfast with mulled wine. And later on, in the dining room with Moms, Dad, Oli & Corey, Raj & James, all the Eastern European holiday delicacies you could think of, along with meatballs made with currants and port. Thank you, chef James.

Later that night Sandy collected me, and swept me off to his house for a night of kisses, a box of truffles, and a black iPod with Merry Christmas Cheech! YOU ROCK! engraved on the back.

For me. How lucky am I?

In the days that followed, we had together time, sleep-in time, and breakfast in bed time. We watched documentaries on the Discovery channel, and had dinner soirees with friends almost every night. We shopped the post-holiday sales in almost empty stores, drank lots of wine, and fed each other stinky cheese. We talked and talked some more, then rented movies we never finished watching, because falling asleep on the couch, tangled together, won out.

I rang in the New Year by myself. There were plenty of invitations to go out, to party, to do this or that, but I crave solitude every now and then. Especially on that night, of all nights, when I want to look back at what I’ve done, and forward at what I still have left to do.

What have I done? It was an exciting year, can’t deny it. I slimmed down, saw incredible things in more incredible lands; discovered new love in an old one. I got rid of that albatross around my neck, and I’m driving my very own car.

Now, what is it exactly that I want to do?

So much more, really. New Year’s Resolution: one foot in front of the other. Keep going.

My first kiss of 2007 wasn’t delayed that long, and came to me in the early afternoon of New Year’s Day at Sandy’s house, right before he whisked me off to meet his family.

I met a boy’s parents. That’s a big thing. I met my boy’s parents, two lovely and charming people who raised the wonderful man I’ve given my heart to again. True to Italian form, they treated me as my own mother and father would have, and fed me more than I could possibly handle. I also met his sister, brother-in-law and nephew, and the hours passed like minutes to our nonstop chatter.

It was an otherworldly experience, almost. I felt at home.

Back at Sandy’s that evening, drunk on each other and my Christmas box of Godiva truffles, we celebrated each other with that first bottle of Veuve.

One down. Three to go.

It was a good holiday.