Re-run #241 Valen-ton

That emotional cataclysm we call Valentines Day has passed again. And I’m glad. I really, really hate to be told where, when, and how I should be romantic—especially by the likes of card and candy manufacturers.
Cards, flowers and candy—do they have an industry name of their own? The romance industry? No, that would most likely include adult toys as well. The caring industry? Nope, sounds too much like nurses and stuff. How about the relationship industry? Yeah. Here’s some flowers Honey, let’s go talk to Dr. Phil.
In any event, it really frosts me when I have to turn on the fake romance every time February 14th rolls around. What if I feel romantic on Martin Luther King’s birthday, or St Patrick’s day? Where are all the heart-shaped candies then?
Oh yeah, early-bird valentines on MLK, and closeouts on St Paddy’s. Nothing better with stale chocolate then green beer.
Speaking of odd holidays. It seems to me that a large portion of the Irish population is, or used to be, Catholic. And if I’m not mistaken St. Paddy’s day happens between Ash Wednesday and Easter, so where’s that whole Lent abstinence thing?
Or are they only supposed to give up meat? Lord knows, when I’m doing penance by giving up meat there’s nothing like a tall brewsky to ease the pain.
According to one official Catholic website, penance is, after all, a state of mind, and physical discomfort need not be scrupulously observed. Well Hail Mary, we’ve come a long way since hair shirts and self-scourging.
Perhaps we should look for a deeper conspiracy to this whole Valentine thing. The closest thing secular America has to the Lent period of self-denial is the New Years resolution. Health clubs know that the time to get people signed up for a yearly contract is the week after Christmas gluttony, when scales across the nation are screaming in digital agony as they groan under the pressure of so much flaccid fat.
Been there, done that, got the two ex t-shirt.
It’s not a good year for plus-size America. We had Superbowl XXL and Winter Olympics XX all in the same season. Well here’s the thing about a resolution. It takes 6 to 7 weeks to ingrain a new habit. Scientists have proved that 6 or 7 weeks have to pass doing a new thing or stopping an old thing for it to stick.
Breaking a habit is not just for fat nuns.
You have to give it time. Your body has to adapt, you have to teach it a new way of achieving equilibrium, and if you fall off the wagon before those 6 weeks have expired, you’ll stay off that wagon and it will be harder to summon the resolve to get back on it for a long time. Your body loves its habits.
So I’m not suggesting there’s a candy industry conspiracy but, if I stop eating junk food on January 1st, February 14th is how many weeks later? America, ya gotta love it.