O.M.G. My. Clothes. Are. All. So. Tight.

Seriously. This is bad. I'm down to wearing stretchy pants and tunic-length tops to the office, because, yeah, nothing fits. I've gained about six pounds in the last six months, and while that may not sound like much, it has somehow arranged itself in a very unflattering way that looks like much more. I think the total lack of exercise for those six months is equally to blame for the mudslide-like state of my body.

It doesn't help that it's the season of Vendor Gifts at the office, and every time we think it's over, another shipment of saucer-sized peanut butter cookies, candied almonds, and what have you arrives via the FedEx man. And it's there, and it's all so good. Oh, so very good. And I have partaken of the unhealthy buffet of goodies just sitting there in the office kitchen, perhaps to excess, and I leave for work early and get home late, and no exercise has been happening. This is all kinds of bad.

We are all vowing to cut back "after the holidays," but I fear that if I eat like this for another week, I really will have to "call in fat," because I will be unable to fit into anything fit to wear to the office and will be forced to come to work in my pajamas, or rather, the baggy old yoga pants I don't do yoga in, but wear to sit on the couch.

It's not like I was tiny and skinny before the Season's Eatings; six months ago I still needed to lose at least 15 pounds, but now we're talking 20. I have a perfectly decent wardrobe of nice work clothing in my closet that is now too tight, and I really can't afford to replace them.

And I'm just reaching the point where my body feels uncomfortable, where I am very conscious of how my formerly too large jeans are fitting as I sit here. I don't like this. I know, I know, I'm a grandma and over the hill, and should be beyond caring about these things, but I'm sorry, that's bullshit. I know when it's gone too far, and I know how unhealthy I am right now, and I want to fix it.

I'm not going to tell any specific numbers of where I am now or where I should be, because that's where women get all weird and judge-y about these things. "OMG, she thinks she needs to lose 20? She could stand to lose 40!!" Or, in the other direction, "She thinks she's fat at that size? OMG, what does that make ME?" and all the other weird shit women do about this issue. So I am not going to do this as a "diet to lose 20 pounds." I am going to improve my eating and exercise habits, and let the pounds fall where they may. I know, I know in my heart of hearts, that I have NOT been very plant based for a while. Vegetarian, yes, but hell, tortilla chips and queso are vegetarian! Nutter Butters are vegan! There is a significant difference between vegan and whole foods, plant based. I'm not the former. I aspire to the latter.

And on that note, I've treated myself to a new cookbook for Christmas: Better Than Vegan: 101 Favorite Low-Fat, Plant-Based Recipes That Helped Me Lose Over 200 Pounds

What I am going to do is apply myself to the plan outlined in The Engine 2 Diet: The Texas Firefighter's 28-Day Save-Your-Life Plan that Lowers Cholesterol and Burns Away the Pounds. I am going to make the recipes (well, the ones that appeal to me, and make other fat-free plant-based recipes as well) and really, truly stick to it, and get my ass out and walk again, and break out the yoga mat, and maybe after the first of the year, sign up for yoga again. I used to have a core. Now I have a liquid center.

I've let myself drift from the healthy path I'd found in Asheville. I came back to FL to baking heat for six months of the year, and a desk job again, and now I have to adjust all over again to find a way to live the life I have now, and eat the way that is best for me. So, here goes. December 26th, it begins.