img_5061This is what I’m talking about: our daughter Christmas night.

For Christmas, I bought myself an outfit that celebrated finally losing all of the baby weight. And then, Christmas happened and the outfit is too small again.

These past couple of weeks have been hard on me. It happens every year. The holidays come and little by little I abscond responsibility and self-maintenance. What with all that’s going on I find excuses to stop doing the things that keep a soul spry…no reading, no exercising, no sleep patterns. I end up saying shorter prayers. The budget gets ignored so we can afford a nicer cut of meat. I reach for another truffle. “It’s the holidays,” I say over and over again.

And when a little responsibility goes, inevitably, a little more goes. So now I’m not returning phone calls or emails. I’m taking naps. My mind gets a little mushy. I start wanting to watch Lipstick Jungle. The apartment gets messier. My body gets soft. The baby gets pink eye as a visual reminder of what I’m doing to myself.

For the fourth day in a row I eat pumpkin pie for breakfast and reheat mashed potatoes and ham for lunch. All while dry pine needles gather in corners.

But whoever planned these holidays—amen—put New Year’s exactly one week after Christmas. They gave me one week to really feel the sludge, and then, like a good vaccine, they gave me a holiday to get me out of my holiday mess. There couldn’t better timing for the day of the year that tells you start over.

And so I resolve to

  • Be good to my body
  • Read things that uplift me
  • Love people not like me
  • Play with our baby
  • Choose happy and spread it

May my skinny outfit fit by February. (And may Valentine’s Day obliterate any progress; another truffle please…)

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