You leave the bathroom, taking care not to trip on the boots. They fit perfectly. In fact, everything fits perfectly, just like it would on a real Santa.
You enter the living room and see your reflection in the dark television. You can't help but break into laughter again. You're having a hard time imagining a more jolly person than you right now. Maybe it was because you had taken on the physical appearance and personality of a very happy man.
You take a seat in the armchair, feeling a bit winded after the walk from the bathroom to the living room. That would be another thing about being an old man. You would have a lot less stamina. You look down at your large stomach and pat it fondly. If being Mr. Abramovich meant being fat and being a little lazy, then it wouldn't be too bad.