Lumpy Doldrums

Amy and I had the best drives we've ever had in the winter. Four and a half hours, each way. A few flakes on the way there, some rain yesterday. No ice, no driving snow, no crawling along the seven. Pretty much clear sailing.

Even my hips, which don't so much like sitting in one spot for extended periods of time, and by extended, I generally mean a half hour, aren't hurting so much. I can barely touch my toes any more, mind you, and certainly not without groaning, but a week back at yoga and some extra-curricular piriformis stretching will right that soon enough.

Today has been my first full day back. It's been an uncomfortable one. I'm feeling strangely ill-at-ease and at loose ends. Dissatisfied with my life: with what I've done, with what I'm doing, with my style, my wardrobe, my body, my lack of discipline, of focus, my inability to, well, to do or not do whatever's annoying me about myself at that moment. Most of it, of course, is being channelled into some pretty severe body hatred.

What I need is my normal diet back, a diet that does not consist mainly of turkey and fruit. What I need is some exercise. Since Christmas day, most of my time has been spent sitting - in cars, in living rooms, in church basements, in front of movies or the computer. I've barely been outside, even today.

I think we can safely say that such behaviour is bad for me. I'll go out on a limb and say that it's bad for People. Very bad for people to spend all their time sitting indoors and eating copious amounts of frozen lasagne.

Sorry. Boxing Day flashback.

It's the time of year that can break you. Over the fall, I got into a pretty good swing, getting outside, moving, doing. But now it's so dark and I'm fucking tired. I don't want to walk to the yoga studio. I don't want to go for a run. I don't want to snowshoe. I don't want to walk to Centretown for groceries. Fuck, I barely want to walk to the back house to watch TV.

All I want to do is eat muffins and go to bed.

I know, though, that giving in to that desire is categorically a Bad Idea. It will make me sad. It will make me start hating, myself most of all. That way madness lies.

So as much as I do not want to, as much as I want to make some hot chocolate, sit on the couch, stare out the window, and think about all the things I hate about myself, I will not. I will make myself to go to yoga, tonight and tomorrow. I will walk the 20 minutes there and back. I am going to stretch and get sweaty. I am going to breathe.

Wednesday, I am going to make myself (and Shelley! Yay!) sign up for pilates classes, because I am hating my lack of core strength, of all places, I would really like, and need, some strength at my core, and there is something I can do about that lack. I could do it on my own, but I am not, and I will not. So I will pay somebody else to make me do something about it.

Also, I am going to stop thinking of how desperately sad for humanity frozen lasagne makes me.