Forty four weeks out from surgery, and here are the numbers I care about:
- Weight: 247
- Blood Sugar: 99
This seems to be a pattern and honestly, I’m not feeling any frustration, I’m just acknowledging where I’m at and getting on with my day (it’s entirely possible, of course, that I don’t care about this because American Democracy is on fire and there’s a white supremacist in the White House, and I’m having trouble resisting the urge to keep bringing that up at inappropriate times and places). Put on a little less than a pound, but I’ve learned from firsthand experience that tomorrow I could be two pounds lighter and it could have everything to do with how much salt I ate, how much water I drank, or on the result of slightly more horrifying activity, the details of which I won’t burden you with (here). So this is where I’m at this week.
I could easily have been more active in the last seven days, but I’m neck deep in essays, and I’m probably going to be this way for most of the next three, four weeks. Apart from that, I’ve been pretty on top of things, eating mindfully, keeping a regular journal of food I’ve eaten, vitamins, exercise, water (it’s the sexiest journal ever written), blah blah blah.
Still waiting to hear back from Kaiser about their annoying habit of telling me about health conditions I don’t have. I write that here, as a reminder to myself to harass them in another week if I still haven’t heard back. I truly love Kaiser, I’ve said before that I honestly believe they’ve saved my life. But they’re kinda like a puppy you have to stay on top of or it’ll shit all over the house.
I’m happy (conditional, as I mentioned last week, on how and when I allow myself to consume news, but still…happy), and this is why:
Obviously, I’m super happy about my quarantine mask, WHICH I WEAR WHEN I GO OUT IN PUBLIC BECAUSE I’M NOT A SELFISH DICK (sorry (kinda)).
Here, have a graphic:
