March 15, or so afterwards, is when the new year should officially begin. By then, after two months of extravagance into the new year and just not giving a damn, you're ready to make changes, esp. on that day (in San Francisco) when the sun comes out in full glory and the sun is smiling and then you're not.
After weeks of what we in California call cold (anything below 57 degrees) and there is no rain, and the sun is bright and hot and you're forced to discard winter layers, that is when you're ready to go on a major crash diet or make a change... because of what you suddenly see in a mirror that shocks your senses into what isn't a fake sighting.
Vanity. It is I.
What the hell is that unsightly bulge?
Dear God! Who in heaven's name is that? And that thing...that rolling lump behind him? No no no. That's not what we used call stacked...the way Christoper's round booty looked that we liked to squeeze and kiss and all those things...
You accept it anyway...cover it...without losing a button or hope no one really notices your belt is in the first hole and not the last one, which leaves no flap because all the width of your girth has multiplied into a dreadful pear shape.
Immediately you start to eat correctly, which had not been the case or care in January - February when all we did was party and drink and eat as if there as no tomorrow and, then, that extra inch was hardly noticeable.
But not anymore...