Thirty five weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:
- Weight: 259
- Blood Sugar: 105
259. Nine pounds from goal. To see that number this morning was a bit of a shock, both because of being in the 250s, and because I haven’t lost more than three pounds in a week in a long time. After posting about the stress eating last week, it was definitely more at the front of my mind, so maybe that had something to do with it?
The blood sugar is back up, which is weird. Again, it’s back up to a level I’m still okay with, but I’m much happier when it’s below 100. Going back over the last week of food, there just aren’t a lot of candidates for what could’ve caused it, so I’m left with the half banana and bit of citrus I had for desert last night. Whatever, just gonna keep an eye on it. It’s not like there isn’t anything else to obsessively worry about.
Speaking of, I spent the first half of last Thursday thinking I’d been exposed to COVID-19 in my classroom at one of my schools. I haven’t, but that day sucked. Hard. While I was concerned that I had been though, I texted and then emailed all of my students at CSUSB, canceling classes for the rest of the quarter (this, by the way, is something that genuinely saddened me, but it goes without saying that going to any public space would’ve been wildly irresponsible). In the week since then, CSUSB has canceled on-campus classes for the remainder of the academic year, and public schools all over the state have been closed as well. The big takeaway from all this is that I’m a trendsetter.
Oh one other thought about the above: WHY THE FUCK WERE PEOPLE AT FUCKING BARS LAST NIGHT?! Who seriously gives two shits about St. Fucking Patty’s? Jesus Christ.
I’m happy, obviously, but I’m also a little scared. Because I read the news you see. I’m not at the gym this morning because it’s closed for obvious reasons (because it’s not a fucking bar), so as soon as its light, we’re going for a walk. But beyond that, I don’t do well with a lot of downtime. I get too into my head, I can fall into depression, and these are perfect conditions for old bad habits to resurface. I’ve been in enough support groups and have spoken to enough bariatric patients to have noticed a common thing when discussing weight gain. It goes like this:
“I lost the weight and everything was great, and then life happened, and…”
Well, life’s happening at a 1000 miles per hour right now, and I have to admit that I’m every bit as fallible, every bit as susceptible to falling back into old habits as anyone else, and if I’m not hyper vigilant about what’s going on in my head and in my heart, I’m in serious danger of screwing myself out of achieving my goal, nine pounds away from it. These next few weeks (months?) are going to be very difficult. For everyone.
Here, have a graphic:
