Waving

Call it poetic, symbolic, or cheesy, but today, this first official day of the Year of Me, we had the first real snowfall of the year. It was clean, fresh, fluffy, but moist enough so that it would stick on top of branches causing them to gently droop as if surrendering to relaxation. You know what it’s like when you get to the point in a massage where you relax so much you lose yourself? Like that. It was spectacular. Even better, it was mild enough so that one could be outside quite comfortably if dressed warmly enough. And even better than that, it was perfect snowman snow. My youngest son, who is the happiest little boy in the world pretty much all the time, could barely contain himself when I asked him if he wanted to make a snowman with me.

I pulled my old snowpants out of the closet that I had bought for a ski weekend over ten years ago when I felt less body-conscious than I do now. I weighed less then and even though I probably thought at the time that I was a whale, pictures prove that I was all that and a bag of chips. Sick, as my kids would say. I looked good. Well, the pants fit. They were snug, and it was a slight struggle to lace my boots, but I was moving comfortably and the zipper was all the way up. Oh, AND I had a pair of jeans on under them instead of long-johns. I have suspected for a few months that the result of some exercise and better eating habits had changed my body shape, and this was proof. I walked out my front door the most confident and proud woman in the world. We made a happy, welcoming, snowman in the middle of our yard who looks like he’s waving to passers-by.

It’s several hours later now and dark outside, but I think I’d kinda like to be out there waving with him. It’s that kind of day.

(Originally written in January 2011)