On my way to losing a marathon!

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Today, and why it was a not good day.

"They" tell you not to skip meals when you're trying to lose weight.  "They" say it's because you'll feel super hungry and overeat at the rest of your meals and then you'll get even fatter and be simultaneously hungry and fat and sad and hugely unpleasant to be around.  Or something like that.

I can attest to the fact that "they" are right.

I didn't try to starve myself to lose weight.  I did it because they wanted to take pictures of my insides and the doctor wanted my insides to look skinny and not be stuffed with breakfast.  Or lunch, since my ultrasound didn't take place till nearly 2pm.  If your curious, that meant I hadn't had anything to eat for like, 16 hours, and that I couldn't have any coffee to make up for the fact that my daughter woke me up at 2am because she bumped her head and needed "messasin" and to be held, and my son woke me up at 4 because he's a right hungry little sucker.

They really shouldn't call it a fast.  They really should call it some of the slowest most unpleasant 16 hours of the your life, because knowing you can't eat only makes you want to eat more, and so then you feel like you might have to die.

I have been unpleasant company all day long.

Today I got to meet the world's chattiest ultrasound tech, an occupation filled with chatty people to begin with.  I got to learn how many dead babies she's seen inside of people (that's not funny, it was and is and always will be absolutely horrifying), I got to learn how her ex-husband (the bastard) was sleeping with an 18 year old CHILD who worked in his office at the time that she thought she might have lost the 3rd of her 3 daughters, the one that was a late-in-life accident and a little scary since she was already 43 at the time and her second child actually has Down Syndrome.  I got to learn that she, like my nurse from the last appointment, has IBS, and some pretty gory... specifics... of that.

And lastly, I got to learn that I don't have stones in my gall.  She's "not supposed to say" (it has something to do with the dead babies), but she let me see my gallbladder, which was free of white specs, which is a good sign.

Except that of course, I still have no idea what's wrong with me.

I don't know, maybe it is IBS.  Maybe that's why God keeps handing me overly-informative medical professionals.  Maybe I'll give some of that Jamie Lee Curtis yogurt a try.

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