Around this time of year a couple of years ago I waxed poetic after catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror.
I thought of that poem this morning as I squeezed into my 34-inch waist jeans and tried to recall when they actually had been loose on me.
I blame the season.
As I did when writing this:
An ‘ode’ to comfort food
If summer came right after Christmas
how trim and fit I might be.
I’d eat berries for breakfast, salads for lunch
and then tackle un-trimming the tree.
I’d pull on my gym shorts and sneakers
and off I’d go for a run.
All those leftover holiday cookies
would be so much easier to shun.
The prospect of donning a swimsuit
would be motivation enough for me
to ignore that big box of chocolates
or have just one, instead of three.
But the gods had another idea which
to my waistline has not been kind.
Christmas ushers in winter
and a different state of mind.
A nice healthy salad for dinner
when temps are in the teens?
I’m sorry, this isn’t the season
to fuel my body with greens.
I’ll pass on the salad, thank you.
Gimme something hearty instead.
Like a hot bowl of soup or chili
with half a loaf of bread.
I need calories to face Old Man Winter.
A full belly keeps me warm.
A big plate of pancakes and sausage
helps me weather a January storm.
Yes, my trousers are growing tighter,
and my abs are hidden by fat.
But in winter that just doesn’t matter.
Beef stew is where it’s at.