Belated Happy New Year . . . . I'm fat

I took a beating mentally over the holidays. My consciousness held the cat-0-nine tails and whipped my moral being to the bone. I remarked on someone's blog, before the holidays started (which I was already in full flight in over indulgence), that the key idea for the Christmas break would be "moderation". Apparently I follow the "do what I say, not as I do" rule. I over indulged, hardly lifted a finger and took part in slothfulness and gluttony like it was going out of style (is it in style?). I managed a few skis and some walking, albeit was back and forth to the cookie tin, to keep my guilt at bay. However, there is no escaping tight pants, man boobs and an overwhelming sense of uncomfortable'ness - the proof is there in the mirror.

Why is it that I seem to have to let myself go before I do something about it? Human nature or is it just me?

I was at my mother-in-law's place and she remarked that I'm too hard on myself, after listening to me whinge (I was a miserable son-of-a-bitch to be around over the holidays) about how I felt. That's further from the truth and opposite to where I should be . . . . harder on myself (and easier on other people).

So, what do I do? Make a resolution to do 'something about it' . . . . just like every other fat f*cker out there. Buy the gym membership, dust off the sneakers and workout suit, throw out all the leftover sweets (really, can you believe that I'd have leftovers?!?!), find a catchy daily affirmation to say to myself every morning to keep me on track and generally believe that this year things will be different.

I think that I am going to need more than my own self-will-power and reliance to help me drop some weight.