Seventy nine weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:
- Weight: 236
- Blood Sugar: 100
Down a literal pound, but down a metaphorical 300 pounds after the inauguration. Yesterday was a really good day. Beyond that, I’m delighted to not feel like talking about politics today.
This is something interesting / gross though: If you look at the images below, the top one was my weight from earlier in the morning on Wednesday, and the bottom one is from three hours later. The top one shows that I put on 1.3 pounds, and the bottom shows that I lost 0.9. I did NOT exercise even a little bit in those three hours. Nor did I take in any food or water between those measurements. So what happened? Body waste. You’re welcome.
But the reason I bring it up is to show (myself as much as anyone) that there’s just no reason to get too hung up on the numbers when you weigh in. Equally (maybe more?) important is how you’re feeling (overall health as well as emotionally), how your clothes are fitting, and so on. Two pound fluctuation. In three hours. It’s just a number.
Three things I’m grateful for:
- A NEW PRESIDENT, THANK YOU.
- Clothes that fit well.
- Gigantic, lively crabs. I’m so sorry for selecting you for murder and devouring your corpses, you’re just so goddamn tasty.
I’m good this week, bordering on happy (but I don’t wanna jinx it by saying it out loud). I’m writing this two days late because the spring semester begins on Monday and as President Biden was being sworn in, I had yet to begin even writing my syllabi. It’s nice to be back at work. We’re in for a really hard month and a half. We’re gonna lose a lot of people in the coming weeks and I’d really love it if none of them were my people. Take care of yourselves please.
Here, have a graphic (fuck it, have two):
