Journal

I’m sick, and I should either be in bed or writing an essay for my doctoral program, but I’ve just been through a mile of ICK and I’m sharing it with you. And of course, it all starts with Cooper, seen below looking guilty of something or other. We’ll get to that. So Coop is...

I really needed a break. I’m reading over my last post (from the end of last year), and I’m talking about wishing the years would stop having body counts, the fact that I hadn’t weighed myself in a few weeks, and my inexplicable new lust for chocolate. Even shit chocolate. I was also beating myself...

Two and a half years out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: ??? Some changes need to happen. I’m not counting the weeks out from surgery any more because fuck math, and because even if this was a baby – as opposed to my life – we’d have stopped counting the...

One hundred and twenty four weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: Weight: 242 Up a pound. I’ve been getting by on a whole lot of “fuck it” lately. It’s not ideal, but I’m getting by, so fuck it. I’m a lot better than I was the last time I...

One hundred and twenty two weeks out from surgery, and this week I don’t particularly care what my weight is. This might get a little long, we’ll see. I’m writing this on Thursday the 11th Friday the 12th Saturday you know what, it took several fucking days to write this. It hasn’t been a great...

One hundred and twenty weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about: Weight: 241 Down 0.2 pounds. Has it really been two weeks since I last posted? Yes. Again? Yes. Why? Because shut up. That was mature. There’s a lot going on, as always. My niece just got married on Halloween....