|Falling off roofs is one thing, adult onset diabetes is another.|
He's been losing weight. He sure had a paunch, but this was not the rotund, jelly-riddled Chris Cringle I know and love from his Coca-Cola storybook. Santa's been watching his carbs, kiddies.
Which has me wondering if authentically fat Santas are indicative of a sprawling, growing economy.
I'd imagine even the Old Man needs to tighten his belt in these recessive times, but then, frankly, he'd probably lose his job to a more … shall we say "naturally glandular" Father Christmas. The presence of a svelter Santa would seem to indicate then a relative dearth of fat Santas, so where have they gone?
Ostensibly, they weren't exactly leading the healthiest lifestyles, maintaining a heavy build and high cholesterol all year. With that kind of lifestyle, I can only surmise that all fat Santas either slimmed down for health concerns or went the way of the Brachiosaur.
Yes, an uncertain immediate future tends to make us a little more pragmatic, but does the opposite hold true? When we're feeling bright and shiny about our futures, do we abuse ourselves more? Or are we simply more readily able to hire another fat, bearded man should one accidentally give himself an aneurism? Do we, in fact, become utterly ambiguous to the blight on moderate obesity among the elderly, because once every year they become useful to us? Like wiener dogs and pot-bellied pigs, ave we bred Santas only to be occasionally pertinent curiosities? Luxury items?
Maybe we just feel less responsible when what we're losing is already in surplus.