Uh-Oh

I’m at the Endocrinologist‘s office today. Since weening and coming off prednisone and being cushingoid, I wanted someone who understood to watch my numbers and guide me through. The unwelcoming scale. The stress. Last time I was here I got a small lecture from the young, thin, Ariana Grande doppelgänger assistant, “You really need to do something about the weight.” Inertial monologue: “no shit, skinny bitch.” Externally, I nodded, smiled and said I was starting a program. And I had cleaned out the fridge and started the 21 Day Fix DVDs... again. Before the heal pain and the vacation and the mid term elections and hate for my job and the fatigue and the meltdowns and Dr. Ford triggering my own sexual assault trauma... and... and... and... infinity. I am up 2 pounds today. I write this anticipating hearing about the numbera going in the wrong direction. But it’s only two. And I’m down one since I started mindfulness and the blog and... and... and. Sigh. Will this one really be different? Can I really sustain momentum this time? Have I tapped into a method that truly will keep me motivated and inspired and on track? Time will tell. Until then I brace myself and tell myself I will survive the lecture about my weight that I am pretty sure is on its way in 3... 2... 1....

...breathe...

(Dodged a bullet. There was no mention. Let’s see where we are in 6 months when I return. Whew!)