Where do I even begin?
Thursday last week was a gigantic bummer with my weight gain issues. I fully attribute them to my ongoing battle with PCOS, but it’s still a blow to the self-esteem. I spent Friday cooking and prepping for my son’s 13th birthday party, swearing over the homemade buttercream frosting melting off what was supposed to look like the TARDIS from Dr. Who. I won’t even go into the tears I shed looking at baby pictures of my oldest son and comparing them to the hairy beast that claims to be my baby (I suspect body snatchers but have yet to find the pod). Saturday the party went well, but my family spent part of that day and most of Sunday dealing with a family crisis. Said crisis is ongoing and caused my eye to start twitching. This morning they both started twitching. I’ve had other family stress that, believe me, you don’t want to hear about simply because there isn’t enough space on the internet to hold the words I could write.
So, in response to all this wonderful stress I said “Screw it!” I ate. A lot. The entire week. I drank regular pop. I consumed cheese in mass quantities. I relished burgers and sausages. I ate real mayonnaise, for God’s sake! To top it all off, I flipped that exercise bike the bird every chance I got.
This morning I woke up and talked to myself. I said, “Miranda, you’ve really misbehaved all week. Now, I know you’ve been stressed. I get that life sometimes takes a dump all over everything. However, you are GOING to that meeting. You are FACING that scale. You are OWNING whatever hideousness the nice lady hands you when she tells you how much you gained. You WILL NOT cry about it.” My conscience is the boss of me. She’s ruthless, I tell you.
Promptly at 6:20 I arrived at my meeting, stepped on that scale and acted like a big girl. I told the nice lady behind the desk that I’d had a bad week just so her teeth wouldn’t fall right out of her head when she saw how much damage one bad week can do.
“You didn’t have that bad of a week. It’s 2.4 today,” she said.
“What? Wow! I thought I would have done worse than that,” I said.
“That’s 2.4 LOST, not up,” my leader, Lynn, said.
I stopped for a second to make sure my brain was computing what she said correctly.
She nodded her head.
“Would you mind terribly if I kissed you right now?” I think that frightened her.
In any regard, I had to shake my sizeable booty at the wonderfulness that is weight loss.
I don’t know what caused my weight loss, and, in all honesty, I don’t really care. I’m taking this gift and hugging it, squeezing it and calling it George. This Mama is embracing her yo-yo dieting with this one loss that I’m chalking up as a gift from the Weight Loss Gods.
Onward and DOWNWARD.
***Thanks Sista for letting me steal that last phrase. I loved it so.