Staying In

The idea was that I was going to work from home for a couple of hours, go outside for some exercise, and then head into work for another 5 or so hours.

All part of my quest to self-medicate with fresh air and endorphins.

But here's the problem: I'm sitting at my archipelago, finished my early morning couple of hours, and I'm facing the window. The snow is alternating between coming down in woolly sheets and blowing almost horizontally across my line of vision.

And I've already been outside to check the mail. I know how cold it is: goddamned.

I'm not that hardcore, not when it comes to cold or snow. I'll haul myself out to exercise in all sorts of rain and wind, but this? Fuck. It.

Doing pretty well though, all in all, the post-christmas body blues pretty much over. The formerly baggy pants and I have come to a truce: I don't wear them and they don't call me fat.

Not that my body looks any different than it did one, two, four weeks ago. It's got the same amount of fat on it* in roughly the same distribution that was causing me angst about 10 days ago. But when my pants removal companion twisted that fat up in a tight grip last night, my first thought was not "don't touch that," but "yes, please."

It would seem I'm feeling more comfortable in my skin. Which, of course, is all in my head.

*Which, before anyone says anything, I recognize is not a lot. The actual amount is irrelevant to how I feel about it.