Back to Normal?

I despise this time of year. December's merriment has long gone, replaced by January's monotonous cold, routine and darkness. I am glad, however, that the holidays are over, despite the lack of optimism and "christian" charity. All I seemed to do was eat, drink, cook, clean, eat, drink, cook, clean, clean, clean, etc. And while I am more than happy to entertain and consume my fair share of booze and food, all this excess has taken its toll. Cause and effect, right?
To say my pants are tight would be generous. To say that my jeans are no longer an option is more like it. If only I could wear sweat pants to work...Erika's got the right idea. There's nothing like coming home and taking your pants off after they've been choking you all day and night. The sweet, sweet relief that comes with that first button, ending is a crescendo of ecstasy and freedom once you finally manage to kick them into a corner. You know it's been a particularly rough day when a red band is embedded into your less than taut physique. Even worse is the mark of your buttons branded into your flesh. Yeah. That's good for my self esteem.
So I've gotten myself back to the gym, I've got a fridge full of vegetables and lettuce. No more baked goods, bechamel sauces or wine with every meal. I know. It's lame and boring and smacks of routine and "clean living." But let's be honest - I'll still be "that girl" at least once a week and regardless of my efforts, my effing pants will always hurt me.