I fully intended to send my letter to the airline (re: my “misloaded” baggage) last night, but my mom was on the desktop (where I have the file saved), so I just crawled into bed … and I fell asleep not long after 11.00. This is notable because I did not wake up again until 5.00 AM. Yes, you read that correctly: I slept through the night! Say wha…?! I should probably not be tired because of this, but I am. Naturally. So this will have to be quick!
Seems like I no longer have patience for a treadmill. I can’t go more than an eighth of a mile before I am bored out of my mind… I’m not going anywhere!! Ah, well… take what comes, I guess.
Romaine, roasted Brussels sprouts, roasted tofu, yellow squash.
Today I had what was apparently my last laser appointment. I’m not completely satisfied with the results, because while there is a definite improvement, I thought once I did this, I’d be done with it — no more having to shave, ever. Guess not. I’m told I can get the “maintenance plan.” For $1000. Uh. I don’t think that will be happening…
It was hot enough today for a yogurt smoothie!
Orange, this time.
This is pretty much a travesty: I haven’t had bulgur and garlic salt since before my vacation!!
In the end, I sent my letter to the airline today. We’ll see what comes of that. As I was apparently already in the letter-writing mode, I e-mailed my nutritionist too.
So, I am not very happy at the moment. To be perfectly honest, I am not being “perfect.” I know this. And I also know that I am eating as much as, or more than, I did last week. Which was more than enough to make me gain weight, even if it wasn’t an insanely high number of calories, because as we know, I am an inherent fat person. I feel crappy enough gaining; it makes me feel like a lazy weak-willed failure. So why should I have to compound that by also feeling like a failure for not being “perfect”?? If the goal is for me to gain weight, and I am doing that, then it should not matter. If I were eating 300 calories a day and gaining weight because I screwed up my metabolism, then I can see why it would make a difference. But I am overeating anyway, just to a lesser extent. And I feel like it doesn’t count for anything anyway, so why do I bother?… Which leads me right back to where I started, namely, that I am just a pig and I have no self-control.
Honestly, I don’t know why I bother. My therapist tells me to discuss this with my nutritionist, my nutritionist tells me to discuss this with my therapist, and all along I am really only talking to myself!! I’m not even going to get into that. All I am going to say is, thank goodness for babydoll tops. But I think I may raid my brother’s closet. Have I mentioned that my brother is easily half a foot taller than I am?? What is the world coming to when I would actually consider stepping out the door dressed like that?!
“When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.”
~Franklin D. Roosevelt