Week’s end

I hit the weight goal I was looking for. I won’t tell you specifics, a girl’s gotta have some secrets, but I passed my first goal. I can’t believe I did it. I feel really gleeful. I mean it isn’t a big deal. It is only about fifteen pounds, but it was a goal. I set a WEIGHT goal, and I met it. I met it in the most horrible week too.

I have a best friend who is more of a sister. I mean she and I are really close and she is going through a hard time right now. I don’t feel like I can tell you the reason for that either, that’s for her blog. Needless to say, I have been distressed for her. I love her so much and hate to see her hurting. Makes you want to just peel the nails off of the person putting her through it. I think sometimes when one of the people who you love is in pain it is almost worse than when it is yourself.

Not only that but I have had an upset tummy for about a week, and I started Nanowrimo, which is the time when you try to write a novel in a month. I did it last year and was extremely successful, and that is why I felt I needed to do it this year. I think I will always do it. I need to feel like I am doing something with my writing.

Well even with all this, I lost five pounds this week. I have been doing Weight Watchers and I have been going low carb. I have been writing down everything that I eat twice. I am working the numbers. I have to keep my points under 43. I have to keep my sugars under 140. I have to eat many veggies and fruits. Drink milk, take vitamins, and drink water. I check the boxes. I try to think of it as math.

I stood on the scale yesterday and I got the number I wanted for this week. I stood there and instantly thought, this can’t be right. My scales broken or it was all the pooping I did last week.

When good things happen to me, I always look for the thing that is wrong with it. I am always looking sideways at good luck, even if I caused it. Even if I worked my butt off, I am thinking about when the hammer is going to fall.

I don’t do it on purpose. It just instantly pops in my brain. I think oh, crap I am too happy. I know I am not the only one. I don’t know what causes that. I just know I do it, and try not to.

When I first met my husband, I did the same thing. A beautiful man with a gentle soul, of course something bad is gonna happen. He can’t really be true. He must have a family somewhere in Nevada. He must be a bed wetter, or worse someone who chews with their mouth open.

The best part about this is that I hold on to good things in my memory. I savor them like I may never see tomorrow. I remember moments holding his hand in the car in front of his apartment. I remember, the first time I showed him affection in public and he was surprised, our first kiss and a myriad of other firsts. I remember all the special moments. I try to put the fear it will end to the back of my mind and just live and soak up the happy times. Ten years later and my husband still shows me every day his gentle heart, and in kind I take care of it the best I can.

This weight loss thing almost seemed too easy. I am like the girl who has the nice guy and says something must be wrong with him if he likes me. He likes me too much. I distrust the results if I can do it, a schmuck like me. All I did was follow the numbers.

It wasn’t easy though. I have to give myself credit. I made good choices for the past month or so. I am taking control of my meals. I lived through Halloween at my sit down job, with its cakes, cookies, fabulous meats and crackers, and even its orange frosted Krispy Creams. Don’t think I didn’t want one of those.

After my initial reaction of that can’t be right, I danced around the kitchen in my underwear. (Who doesn’t weigh-in in their underpants?)  I let out an exultant whoop and will think of that moment years from now. The first time I set a weight goal and met it.

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