… and am so freakishly out of shape that I may be a whole new geometric shape unto myself.

Tonight, I removed the weighing scale from atop its perch on the ice box and bravely got on it. I needed to know the damage 12 days in France and too many hours in airports and airplanes could wreak and, I must say, I was pleasantly surprised. I’m right back where I started (at 55 kilos), which isn’t too bad considering all the bread, cheese, wine and cake I’ve been having. I was pretty sure that I had crossed over to infinity and beyond and was on the verge of starting my own solar system but, no, I won’t be naming a planet after me just yet. Phew!

Except that the added poundage seems to be oddly distributed so I feel gross and misshapen and have absolutely no idea what to wear on New Year’s Eve.

‘See, I have one – and only one superstition. It’s more like a family tradition really. Ever since I can remember, we’ve spent New Year’s Eve at my aunt’s house, and everyone has always worn polka dots. It’s a Chinese superstition and is supposed to signify prosperity in the coming new year. Any polka dots will do, really, but my aunts and uncles believe that the bigger and bolder the dots (preferably in Chinese red), the better. They used to have these outrageously loud shirts made and would wear them every year till they were faded or falling apart.

Eventually, a lot of us cousins, literally, followed suit. Although we fancied our polka dot outfits more subdued and tasteful than our parents’ wacky seventies look.

And, yes, somehow, the polka dots worked for me. There was one year that I got lazy and ditched the dots. Big mistake. That was my annus horribilis. I know it sounds absurd but I’ve decided to never tempt fate that way again. I mean, why risk it? Besides, the polka dots are fun.

So I’m perpetually on the lookout for new polka dot outfits…

Two years ago, I found the perfect, red, polka-dotted dress. I wore it two years running. A repeat performance this year seems to be out of the question though as the dress is quite tight and there is no way I can fit into it in the next few days and still breathe. Especially since I fully intend to keep up this out-of-control holiday feasting.

I should have a big, obscenely red, dotted mumu made…