Fifty five weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:
- Weight: 237
- Blood Sugar: 102
Back from vacation, and down a pound. Pretty damn thrilled with that, as there were a couple rich meals on our way down the Oregon coast last week, and a truly amazing dinner at Halfway Station in Atascadero, CA. Seriously, if you’re ever anywhere near there, you NEED to go. We had Spicy Korean Cauliflower Wings, Seared Ahi, Portobello Mushroom Tacos, and we ordered the Beet and Goat Cheese Salad but didn’t get around to eating it because the other three was too much fucking food for both of us. Oh and we had a piece of Peanut Butter Pie (I only had two bites because I can’t handle too much sugar, but it was FUCKING WORTH IT).
That whole “living a better life” thing I’ve been reminding myself of for the last three, four weeks? This is part of it. We ate amazing food made by our amazing friends (Hi Autumn! Thank you Autumn!), kept the portions small, took home a LOT of leftovers, and we absolutely overindulged. But we kept our overindulgence within the realm of rational thinking. If I ever have another piece of peanut butter pie, it’ll be because I’m back up there, I don’t think I can eat any other. And I certainly shouldn’t.
We got home on Saturday, and I finished grading essays and got my grades for the summer turned in on Monday night (which is such a great feeling), and yesterday it was prepping for the fall semesters, which start in two weeks. Life is pretty damn good.
Unless you read the news.
I’m not going there today.
I’m happy. For all the reasons mentioned above (and because I haven’t read the news today). There’s a bit of anxiety regarding my left foot, but I have a doctor appointment tomorrow and I’m choosing to freak out after, and not before. Hopefully there’s no horrifying news to report next week.
Here, have a graphic:
