Stuck

Maybe it was the extra cookies after dinner, and the eggnog every night for the past month, or that I gave up on P90X half-way through the first week, but apparently I'm not as slim as I was last year.

I've given out so many of those scales that tweet your weight, I should've kept one for myself. The missus could've said something. Someone could've said something, anything. Like hey fatty, it's not gonna work out for you this year.

If I could move my head, I'd shake it in disgust. This'll be so embarrassing. They'll find me in the morning, or they'll find my corpse. The other billions? They'll find nothing under their trees. I just pray no one lights a fire in the fire place.