Journal

Last night I posted this to Facebook: “I’m beginning to accept something about myself. I kinda hate most sitcoms. Like, for every sitcom I love, there must be 10 I can’t sit through a single episode of. Even the “greats” I can’t stand. This is bizarre to me, but I think it’s way more than...

Forty weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: Weight: 252 Blood Sugar: 98 Half a pound down. Fuck it, it’s better than half a pound up. I almost didn’t weigh this morning because the days are just bleeding into each other here in week…six (maybe?) of quarantine. I’m eating sensibly...

This is gonna get political so just stop reading now if my angry leftist perspective upsets you. I’ve had this new thing happening to me for the last two, two and a half weeks, that’s been driving me fucking crazy. You know that feeling you get right around the bottom of your sternum when you...

Thirty nine weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: Weight: 252 Blood Sugar: 93 Three and a half pounds down. That feels nice. Walking didn’t happen enough last week due to the rain, but I kept my eating in check, despite a few birthday meals, and a truly massive steak...

Thirty eight weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: Weight: 256 Blood Sugar: 74 Down a pound, and goddamn, am I happy about that. I haven’t exercised as much as I should’ve, but in my defense, I prepped three classes (like, for “damn near the entire term” prepped) in three...

I am not well. I am not sick either, I just realized…fuck it there’s a better way to start this thing. I’m not doing well, here in the middle of all this bullshit with COVID-19. I have no idea why I type that out in all caps, but I’ve been doing it for weeks now....