In front yards across America, the blow up Santas and snow globes have been replaced by half-dead Christmas trees, cast to the curb like needle dropping lepers, which usually means a new year is upon us. 2010…Twenty-ten. Jesus, I remember being a young teen and the concept of even making it to the year 2000 seemed unlikely. It's a sad coincidence, lest I lump myself in with the rest of the “resolutioners” who annually annoy me by flocking to the gym for the first few weeks of the year (early February for the true die-hards), but for me, January will mark a month of detoxification and rebalancing.
My wake-up call came recently when I glanced at my side profile in the mirror and realized I was starting to take the form of Demi Moore when she posed for the cover of Vanity Fair. Probably a little less sexy, too, even if you are into the whole bun about to pop the oven look. Since I’m unable to birth all of that fat in one shot, starting after the New Year’s hangover fades, I begin my goal of losing 10-15 pounds. Better eating, little to no booze and, even if it means just walking around the block, being active each day.
Santa did give me a bit of a kick-start by giving me the Swine Flu for Christmas, this year. That must’ve been good for an easy 2-3 pound lead.