Assorted Things

–The Butcher agrees that the afghan is basically a cloud of sleepiness.

–It’s the Butcher’s birthday. I told him he better get on it, because at this age, Jesus was saving humanity.

–There were a few moments on Thursday when it really struck me that the Butcher and I were going to have to do this kind of clean up work for our family regularly, from here on out. And it made me sad and relieved.

–I’m blogging over at Think Progress, starting tomorrow.

–Tonight is one of my favorite stories of the bunch as well as the last guest witch. I will be out to dinner with the Butcher, so let’s hope everything goes off without a hitch.

–I went to the doctor yesterday. I have, according to her scale, dropped at least twenty-five pounds since last year (this is not accurate for all kinds of reasons, but its accuracy is not germane to what I am about to say). I don’t know if you remember last year, but last year was the year that I supposedly dropped almost 20 pounds between seeing the gyno in May and the endocrinologist in June and then, when I saw this doctor in October, I had supposedly gained that all back and then some. Which I told her. And now, it’s all magically gone. She didn’t even ask me about it. In real life, it’s incredibly difficult to lose twenty-five pounds in a year. And you for sure don’t lose twenty pounds in a month unless something has gone majorly wrong. (And my endocrinologist spent a lot of time trying to figure out if something was going wrong with me or if it was possible that the scales were fucked or what. We settled on fucked scales or operator error, eventually.)

But I am a person who loves order and routine. I eat the same things every day. I wear the same clothes week after week. I go for the same damn walks. I haven’t taken up some aerobic hobby. If she had asked me how I “lost” the weight, I would have nothing to tell her. I’m not living any differently now than I was a year ago, with the possible exception of walking less because the dog wasn’t up for it as often.

I feel like, if I weren’t fat, this would be a cause for greater concern–the mysterious disappearance of twenty-five pounds. But I’m fat, so aren’t I lucky?

I feel fine, though, so… I mean, I’m chalking it up to my fucked up endocrine system and it just still doing what the fuck it wants as it feels like doing it.

But I find it a little strange that she thought nothing of it.

About these ads

5 thoughts on “Assorted Things

  1. I’m betting that her lack of comment comes from the fact that she knows her scale isn’t accurate. You know I’ve been to see a lot of doctors recently. I have been weighed every time, and I noticed that my weight has varied (according to the scales) by as much as five pounds within a couple of hours. And at one office, the scales said I dropped six pounds from one visit to the next, in less than a week. Which, you know, I haven’t. I think they all have to be aware that the scales aren’t trustworthy.

  2. Same thing has happened at my doctor’s office. I attribute it to the nurses doing the weighing. Some of them are diligent about it and some of them just sort of wave their hand over it and write the number down.

  3. I would be fine with that if they were as nonchalant about me weighing more. Less must be a fluke, but more? Oh god, I have to hear all about how at risk I am for ruining the world. As if I have no access to the media and blog commenters and thus don’t know.

Comments are closed.