Yippee!

Yesterday, before I got on the scale, I was pretty sure it would be zero. I had done pretty well most days, but there was a two year old’s birthday party on Friday and an ridiculously delicious dinner at Oceanaire on Saturday. I thought the butter from Saturday alone would negate any good done during the rest of the weeks.

But it didn’t. SIX POUNDS LOST!

While I stood on the scale trying to get my fuzzy math machine working to calculate the weight loss, I remembered how successful I had been in 2004. I had several big wins in the first couple of months. Of course there are other weeks with little to no change and even the occassional gain; it’s not magic.

I feel great and confident that I will meet my first goal of 18 pounds by the last weekend in June. That’s when I take my scuba lesson and I want to fit comfortably into one of my swimming suits! I’m already 1/3 of the way to that goal, and I still have five weeks to drop the remaining 12. No problem!!!

Live, love, lose. And brag a little when you have a good week!

Somehow we’ve managed to survive my attempts at sabotage and have now been together for more than one year. I am happy every time I think of him and I’m lucky to have him in my life. I promise (to the webby gods who brought us together) to not take this relationship for granted and to accept that good things CAN happen to me. Can? HAVE happened to me.

In addition to relationship growing pains, I’m still struggling with the weight. Confession — I’ve just rejoined Weight Watchers. If I can’t tell *YOU*, who can I tell? I had great success with it in 2004 before my BFF’s wedding and lost about 30 pounds. I’m probably right back where I was when I did it the first time, but now they have these neat little e-tools so I can SUPER OBSESS about it! My first weigh in was supposed to be on Wednesday during my lunch hour, but now I have a (stupid) business meeting, so I’ll have to wait the extra four hours (gasp) and do it on my way home. My obsessive brain hates that because if I go prior to lunch, I have one less meal in my body during the weigh in. Every little bit of poundage counts in the weigh ins, especially in the first few weeks. I need to motivate my brain by seeing the number drop.

I’ve updated my weight in the “about” section, but will probably not track it in individual posts anymore. If people really want to know, they’ll have to work for it!

Peace out!

Live, love, lose.

I held myself together long enough to walk to the back of the car, I didn’t want the Cold Stone patrons to see what I knew was coming, and squeak out for the Baron to meet me there. By the time he arrived, 2.1 seconds later, there was blood pooling under the nail and tears pooling in my eyes.

“Do you still want to go in?”

*sniffles* “I think we should go home.”

As soon as I climbed into the car, somehow escaping the wrath of the evil door, I LOST it. LOST IT.

I cried (wailed) all the way home and stayed up all night whimpering on the couch. At 5:00 the next morning, I crept into the bedroom upstairs and whispered into the dark that I thought I needed to go to Urgent Care, and that I didn’t think I could drive myself. In retrospect, I most probably could have driven myself, but I was so exhausted from pain and lack of sleep that I didn’t want to run the risk of any additional bodily harm inflicted by a motor vehicle.

I’ll keep the details brief: pain assessment*, x-rays (yep, she’s broken), two holes drilled into the nail to drain the blood, and a brush with a fainting spell. *Side tangent - How can they ask you to rate your pain, stating that 1 is normal and 10 is the worst pain imaginable? How in the hell can anyone really imagine the worst pain? I suppose having my throat slit would probably hurt, A LOT. But can I imagine how that would feel? Not even remotely.

I busted the tip of the thumb in two directions (smashy, smashy), but it looks like I’ll keep the nail. Although, at this point it looks pretty gross with month old dried blood all crusted up in there, so maybe losing it wouldn’t be the worst thing.

On a “that’s kind of weird” note, I had follow up x-rays yesterday to see how things were progressing and when we looked at the original x-rays, the doctor pointed out a bone fragment at the knuckle. He said, “It’s broken here, too. Does that hurt?” I did a little flex test and, nope, not at all. “Hmmm…looks like you’ve broken your thumb before.” Then I remembered that about 15 years ago I fell on my elbow and was sure I’d broken it. A trip to the emergency room brought a similar result. “Well, it’s not broken now but it was broken at some point.”

Eh? How could I have broken two bones in my life and just gone about my daily life without knowing something was wrong, while this tip of my thumb thing is rating at least a 3 on the pain assessment scale on any given day?

Quick fatty, fatty, two-by-four update: Have made no progress. Love ice cream with a burning passion (reference Cold Stone thumb injury). Will be riding 30 miles on April 25th in the annual MN Ironman. Have completed only one 20 mile ride this season. Am quite plump. And quite nervous. May have to feign thumb injury to be excused from ride. Shhh.