Ironies of the Holidays

I got a pretty healthy injection to my wardrobe over the past two weeks. Good thing, too, because I was starting to look like a hobo. I think the clothes all look better than what I was wearing before, but I still don't trust myself to select things by myself in the future. It's like being in the cockpit of an airplane; a layperson can identify someone who is a good or bad pilot pretty easily, but making those decisions yourself it's a little intimidating so it's nice to have someone in there with you.

I think that the reason people always talk about getting into shape as their New Year's resolutions is so that they can fit into all those new clothes they just got. Every time I go home, I feel like I gain 15 pounds because my mom is a very good cook, but her sense of proportion is a little off. For example, the amount of food she makes for a meal would be appropriate if my family were the defensive line for the Miami Dolphins. We usually don't go hungry. Now, though, I need to discipline myself into resuming exercise or exchange all my pants.

I guess I should've been more active while I was at home, but I was really looking forward to the bowl season. That's really an unusual source of regret, don't you think? For like a month and a half, I was looking forward to watching all of the college football games (I pretty much achieved it, except for the odd one that even I couldn't muster any interest in or were airing simultaneously), but now I wish I had, maybe, played a game of basketball or something. The weather was nice, and I don't think I took sufficient advantage of it because I slavishly obeyed my plan. Maybe next year.

There's also a lot of family that explodes over Christmas. I find it amusing how easily it is to get worn out and run out of things to say to the more tangential relatives. It's also tiring to tell the same stories over and over again to different people, which I think is a big part of the problem. I should write out a pamphlet with the essentials and just hand them out when I meet people I haven't seen for six months. "Oh, how's school going?" Look at bullet point #4. "How long do you get to stay?" Intro paragraph. If they have interesting questions, you know, the sort that I'd expect someone who has known me for my whole life to ask, then that's one thing. Maybe I'm just being picky. I should probably do some exercise anyway.