Practically everyone loves Thanksgiving, for many good reasons. It brings families together; it provides an opportunity for many of us lucky ones to an extra day off to allow for four-day weekend; and it’s almost a requirement to eat a little more than usual because you wouldn’t want the chef to get his or her feelings hurt.

But for those of us who are already overweight going into the holiday season, the common belief that we will gain up to 10 pounds between Thanksgiving and Christmas can be a little depressing. I just read that the good news is that most Americans actually only put on about a pound during the holidays; however, in the same article in Sunday’s New York Times (“The Skinny on Holiday Weight Gain” by Tara Parker-Pope), I learned that the news isn’t all good.

The article goes on to say that most people don’t ever lose that pound of weight, according to a report in The New England Journal of Medicine. It explains that the average weight gain during adulthood is about one to two pounds a year. Therefore, much of our total annual weight gain is caused by the holidays.

My dear mother, who is still going strong at the age of 88, always tried to make me feel better during my holiday visits by saying, “It’s OK to be a little overweight because it shows that you have a zeal for life.” The problem with my zeal is that it has morphed into overzealous. I think I just gained a pound by merely thinking about what I usually eat on Thanksgiving. In addition to the turkey and dressing covered in gravy, there are all of those incredible casseroles that my family calls sides, each of which carries the calories of an average meal.

I’ve tried everything possible to lose weight, including exercise. But, the pain exercise produces on the knee I had replaced five years ago – ironically during Thanksgiving week – forced me to stop. So I’m going to try something new this year. I’ll swear off desserts, gravy and seconds. I’ll weigh myself the day before turkey day and again on the Monday following it and report on my results in my column next month. I’ll repeat the same routine for Christmas and do likewise in my January column.

The last time I wrote a column lamenting my 16-year battle with weight that began with the sympathy pregnancy I went through with my wife, I told myself I’d not go there again because I had a few calls and e-mails from people with vested interest in helping me (if you know what I mean).

But here I go again. I guess I really am a glutton for punishment, too.