Well, you know how that goes. My clothes get more and more uncomfortable, I get more and more sad and frustrated, and wah-lah, the scale grows dusty in the bathroom corner.
I'm also calling to make an appointment with my GYN. I was complaining to a friend that I think I'm pre-menopausal (at 43??). I have been getting my damn period (or "flowers," as I have been thinking of it, since I've been reading a fictional book about the life of Josephine Bonaparte, and that's how they refer to it) every two weeks for months now. Blech. My smart friend suggested that perhaps this was worth checking out with a doctor. I will, but I hope it doesn't rob me of my excuse for sitting at her desk scarfing tootsie rolls out of her candy bowl all afternoon! Mmmm, chocolate...
You may recall that quite some time ago, I had a uterine ablation to deliver a cease and desist order to my overactive uterine lining. It failed, apparently. :) My periods are quite light, but still there, and ever so frequent.
I'm stalling. Who wants to pull up that nasty a$$ picture and look at that ugly number again, bah.
Okay, here goes. Ufck. Pardon my French.
|No amount of file manipulation will let me rotate this picture.|
Shake it off. I'm confronting the problem, and the hardest part was getting back on that damn scale. I'll post weekly weigh-in pictures moving forward. I got this.
Tomorrow I'll write a bit about my plan to turn this around. It goes beyond bitching and moaning, haha.