So I think I maybe might a little bit have lost a smidge of teenyness of weight. Maybe. Or maybe a couple different pairs of pants all got stretched-out some. But MAYBE not. Maybe all the stuff I’ve been doing, which is stuff like biking in to the office and running up and down 4 flights of stairs at work and did I mention the snazzy black shoes with the flashy silver taps on the heels and the toes that go tappity-tappity-flappity-tap when I shuffle off to Buffalo? That stuff? Right, well maybe that stuff is finally working!
And it better be because I was starting to get pretty annoyed with all the doing I was doing and yet still pulling on pants and holding my breath to fasten them. Chubby and pissed off is no way to begin a day! (and in case you’re wondering, the most bestest way to begin a day is at about 10am, with the smell of French toast waiting for you. Sleeping on a bed made of $100 bills. With a live-in foot masseuse. And there should be a cheeseburger in there somewhere too, but I haven’t figured out how to quite work it in yet. What were we talking about?)
Right, thinning! So don’t ask me how much I weigh right now because I don’t know. I haven’t looked at a scale in over 15 years. (I can’t say that I haven’t stepped on one because the dumb nurse at the dumb doctor’s office keeps making me do it. But I don’t look at the numbers, and I don’t let them tell me what they say either!) I don’t think focusing on the numbers is good for one’s sanity. My Dad will get super-excited over a drop of 3 lbs and super-bummed by a gain of 2! Not me. For me all that matters is:
-how do I feel?
-how do I look?
-can I fit into my clothing?
So I started this new job and started biking in to the office almost all the time. And the following excellent things happened: I was getting exercise; I wasn’t polluting AND I wasn’t buying gas. I filled my gas tank once in a whole dang month! How excellent is that? Take THAT, diggers of oil and refiners of gas and sellers of gas and such! Ha HA! Plus I shun the elevator (except when I first get to the office, but that’s just because I’m running late. Because hello? They won’t let me wake up at 10am and come wandering in then! Ridiculous…) so I’m running up and down all these stairs. So much exercise, with the promise over and over that it’s gonna give me all this energy. The fitness people all say it. “want more energy? Exercise more! Voila – instant fish!”
Which. Is. CRAP!! Know what time I was crashing most nights before I started getting exercise? 1:00am. I stay up late. I like to stay up late. I’m an “up late” stayer and happy that way. Know what time I keep crashing these days? Like 10:30! Barely after dinner time, people! I don’t have TIME for that much sleep! I come home from whatever, have dinner, sit to settle my food and wow, now I’m waking up on the couch and it’s 4am and dark and sleepy and I guess I’ll just go to bed, eh? And hey, where the heck is all that energy I’m supposed to be getting from all the biking and running and tapping? Energy! I’ve been promised energy!
And I’m still chubby too. Grumble, grumble…
But lo, yesterday I pull on some pants and they’re not feeling so tight. Not so tight! Not that I’m not still chubby, because it’s the way of me and my people frankly. Not that I didn’t have to suck it in a bit to get that button buttoned, because “ssssup!” But I’m pretty sure… kind of sure… I THINK that the pants felt less pinchy. And I’ll take that. (and then I’ll take a nap. On my money bed. Huzzah!!)