Breakfast: Eggs, bread
Lunch: Chicken salad sandwich, most of an apple, cherries
My god, only twelve more days and I am wondering what the hell I have to
show for it. Sure, I did lose some weight, two clothing sizes worth
and I caught a glimpse of myself in the big mirror in the employee rest
room today and I do look a bit less gigantic. However, I make use of a
mirror only on rare occasions, and do not know if I can trust my
memory. I brush my teeth and wash up and put on my makeup with a tiny,
magnifying mirror and see only a small area of my face at a time. I
brush my hair with my eyes closed because it hurts where I had the nerve
damage and it seems less painful when I have my eyes closed, and yes, I
know how dumb that sounds, but if my imagination can create even a
small reduction in the pain, then so be it.
Today was a stressful day at work. Another client wanted to fudge
information on his résumé, and when I tried to schmooze him out of it,
he would have nothing to do with it and left. Just stomped out of the
door. Being in the right and holding to ethics is a difficult job some
days. When it goes awry, as it did this afternoon, it is a terrible,
tummy-roiling, second-guessing experience. I suspect that it would have
continued as we worked, even if I had pulled a solution out of my big
girl panties, which is what I use since I do not wear a hat. Of course,
I have to excuse myself to the restroom and pretend that I "found" the
solution on the way back, but sometimes a babe just has to do what a
babe has to do.
I have spent the afternoon, alternating between sadness that he would
not let me help him and tummy upset that I could not figure out how to
handle him when he was there. Just a mess all around. It does help
that I received complete and very satisfying feedback that I had done
exactly the right thing, but try telling that to my stomach.
Even so, I managed to choke down enough calories at the restaurant
tonight to keep me going through the night. My waiter brought me a tiny
ice cream cone as I was leaving, so that helps. He was nice enough to
not say anything about the amount that I ordered and ate, which saved me
from going all angsty by working it out in my head that he might
actually be saying that I usually eat too much. Seriously. See how
fucked up I am about this? Crap. My name is Simpleton, and I am an emotional
Anyway, with fiber club and dinner it has been nearly fifteen hours
since I left the house this morning and I am going to go and reintroduce
myself to the zombies or supernaturals or whatever the heck they are.
Oh, and I brought home a new zombie fillum today and it is about a
zombie prom. How freaking cool is that going to be. Even A, one of the
circulation babes, told me that it is super cool good and dreamy and,
like, oh, my, god, I am going to love it! And, I am sure that I will,
but not until tomorrow.
As for today, I want a do-over. I want it badly and I want it now.
Well, not now, but soon. After I groove on the zombies and get some
sleep. It seems as though those two things would not go together very
well, but they do.