A week ago, my really nice dad sent me flowers to help me out of my horrible depression. My dad rules. Sadly, I was very, very allergic to the flowers and had to put them out on the back porch. They had a big helium balloon attached to them, and the other day I went outside and the balloon was gone. I asked Thomas about it, and he said he had set it free. It made me remember those balloon launches from elementary school and how one day, as I walked home from the bus stop, I actually found someone's balloon. Someone from St. Louis. And so, for like a minute, I had a penpal. It was pretty cool. I don't know anyone else who ever found one.
The allergies seem to be settling in. I would think it was too soon, but then I look back at last year's blog...and no, it's not too soon.
Ok, I've debated whether or not to post about this, but since Alexa was cool enough to post about it, I'll try. As pretty much all of you know, I've struggled with my weight for a long time. I found out several years ago that I was developing diabetes, and I have a great low-blood-sugar diet that works wonderfully and I started exercising and now I walk 4 miles a day, with my friends Kimberley and Kathy and with my sister . I consider myself a very healthy person. Which is not to say that we don't all also know about my pizza weakness, etc. Well, anyway, last year I lost 35-40 pounds. And I was feeling really good, and I noticed that weird obsessive behaviors that I've always had, like immediately sizing up everyone in the room to decide if I'm the fattest person there had stopped. I didn't get on the scale once during the horrorshow of February. I just felt like, well, I'm not skinny but I'm not horribly overweight any more and I feel good so I just don't care.
But lately I've been feeling like I've been cutting too many corners--I ate bread while I was sick a couple of weekends ago, and things like that. I've been having "bites" of things. And I can feel a difference. So this morning I stepped on the scale to check out the damage.
I've put on 20 pounds.
20! I'm not exaggerating. I've almost totally undone last year in the space of a month. And what's worse is that I just saw my mother. (Every time I think of this the inner hysterics start and I totally fly off the handle).
So, I keep giving myself these stern lectures. NO MORE WINE, I tell myself. EAT MORE REASONABLE PORTIONS. But I'm freaked nonetheless that I could do so much damage without even thinking about it. I kind of just want to hide under the bed.