Here Comes Santa Claus ...

... and that would be me and I don't mean in the jolly, generous way. More in the round, bloated way. Just in time to see my family again, I am pushing maximum density. YARRRG.

I'm at the point where I am just so, so uncomfortable with myself. I feel gross and dumpy and just 'not right'. And it is just such a lovely cherry on top of it all to be in this state of blob for a long-awaited family visit. I am a dolt.

My family is great. Wonderful. But we can't help but make little comments when someone has gained or lost weight. And we're not very good at being subtle when we check each other out to determine whether said weight has been lost or gained. Eyes always seem to settle on that new double-chin or the makings of a gut. No one means any harm - it's just the way we are. And this is what I keep thinking about as Friday approaches (my flight home is that night). Oh, Anxiety, you come around at the greatest times.

The new job (can I still call it 'new'?) has caused me to take on different habits that are really loaning themselves to this situation. I have:
* Been working late
* Getting up and going to work earlier than before
* Mindlessly eating my lunches at my desk due to the busyiness
* Enjoying the free Diet Cokes that are provided rather than drinking water

While I have joined a gym and have been going to it faithfully, I'm realizing that my eating has turned to crap. I haven't cooked a real meal from scratch since I don't know when. It's either frozen or pre-made or ordered in or out a box. Despite many of these things being 'calorie wise' they're still all loaded with crap that no doubt keeps my body in a state of storage. On top of that, I'm eating way later than I normally do in the evenings and skipping breakfasts.

All of this has mounted into my being where I am now: paunchy and borderline miserable.

Sigh. I know what I need to do. I just wish I had been doing it sooner.