Join the migration, the line starts back there

Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright

This blessed early morning after Christmas, after days of family togetherness and joy, with nutmeg and cinnamon still hanging in the air like sweet perfume, I joined that global mass of people who stepped on the scales post-holiday, and got jolted back to reality like I'd just licked a defibrillator.

'Round the table too many times
Now I pay for all of my crimes

While the rest of the household was still snuggled deep in their beds, blissfully unaware of the tragedy happening in the bathroom, I looked down at those red numbers between my toes in anger and disbelief.  No, no no nonononono, that can't be right.  Do it again!  [step off, wait, step back on]  No change.  I stared out the window and tried to recall what dietary apocalypse had happened.  I couldn't think of anything huge, just little things here and there...and there...and some more here...and don't forget that....aw, CRAP!!!  I'd been lulled into the whole culture of happy Christmastime that includes lots of great food, family around the table, family laughing in the kitchen, snacks here, snacks there, popcorn during Rudolph, decorating cookies with the kids, all in the name of togetherness, because in my day, and especially here in the South, one ALWAYS comes with the other. 

Crap.  Crap crap crapcrapcrapcrap.  It was the culture of Christmas food that got me.  Wanting that happiness that comes with the season (which isn't wrong) and thinking that meant the food had to come with it (which is).  I've had the right kind of focus for so long, and it's made me so happy, but when the holidays came and I tried to do it like I've always done holidays, I decided I wanted something more than I wanted my focus, but the two are incompatible.  It's like finding out your two best friends hate each other.

I shook my head in disgust.  Culture, I thought scornfully. Who needs it?  "NO MORE STINKIN' CULTURE!" I bellowed.

I really wish I'd known the cat was in the covered litterbox beside me before I yelled like that.  Poor thing ricocheted in there like a pinball.

So right there in the bathroom, with the scales playing judge and jury, I found something I'd lost a couple of weeks ago:  the inner beast.  The rage.  The need.  My focus.  Oh, yeah.  Hey there, old friend.  Good to see you.  Let's go running!  So I did.  And it felt great.