The Good, The Bad, And The Flabby
Weight loss is continuing, albeit at a slower pace. I’ve been exercising quite a bit more lately, so as the scale stops reflecting rapid changes, I’m trying to convince myself that I’m replacing fat with muscle.
One truly good thing for my diet/exercise efforts: we moved my office from the basement (where there was a fridge conveniently located nearby) to the top floor of the house. Now when I want a snack I have to hustle down 26 steps, which isn’t really that big of a problem: going downstairs is easy. It’s the 26 steps to get back to my office that slow me down. Ditto if I want a cigarette (we don’t smoke in the house).
Yesterday, those trips — along with a few extras for doing laundry, moving the remainder of my office upstairs, dragging up the votive candle holders and other stuff necessary to prettify my space — added an additional 1109 steps to my daily average. Today my thighs and butt are definitely feeling that increase.
The bad part of moving my office is that I somehow messed up my right rotator cuff. Seriously messed it up. As in, I had to brush my teeth with my left hand today, and turning the steering wheel while driving my son to school was sheer torture. Rather than let this derail my exercise plan, I’m going to see my doctor this morning and demand painkillers. Good ones this time, too.
Of course, that means I’m going to have to step on the doctor’s scale, a self-esteem crushing machine that inevitably says I weigh 10 lbs. more than my home scale does. (I’m convinced that’s intentional since the stress will either trigger a heart attack which would make my doctor more money, or it’ll trigger depression which will make my doctor more money. See, like I said: intentional.)
This time, though, I won’t have to stand there listening to her cluck while I try levitating. This time — even with the stupid scale intentionally inflating my weight — I’ll still check in weighing 15 lbs. less. I’m just not going to give her the satisfaction of admitting I did it by following her advice to eat less and exercise, and that’s intentiona on my part.
6 Responses to “The Good, The Bad, And The Flabby”
See, my doctor’s scale always says I weigh less than my home scale, which makes me want to go see her so I can get weighed and feel better about myself, which makes her more money per visit. Either way, it’s intentional.
You’re doing great! Inspirational, even. I’m going to do some pilates in your honour now (and this is after going for a long walk with a todder, a stroller and two dogs – I’m THAT committed… Or maybe I should be committed?)
Pilates is amazing. Hard, but boy does it target the area where I need help the most.
Btw, your doctor wouldn’t happen to be interested in selling her scale, eh?
I have to go get on the soul-crushing doctor’s scale today too. And I have no idea what to expect, since I haven’t been on a scale since the last time I was there. I should see a loss, but every time I think that, I see a gain.
The scale wasn’t as awful to me as I’d feared, although it was still 5 lbs. off from the one I have at home. At least she did give me decent painkillers. They don’t go well with tequila, I learned last night, but they worked.
If you have tequila why do you need pain killers? Just askin’ ya know?
Whatever you are offering for that doctor’s scales, I’m doubling it!
If you have tequila why do you need pain killers?
Um, because I can? Actually, I have since pledged to never, ever touch tequila again. Never.