Rough last few weeks with Randy working eighteen hours, seven days. He looked ashen on the way out the door this morning.
I'm muddling through, relying on workout endorphins and the multi-vitamin I started taking again after the doctor emailed that my blood test came back slightly anemic. Honestly, I chewed up one pill and perked up within hours - is that even possible? Who knows what freaky kind of mind-body connections are working these last two months with many of my prior convictions about my body thrown out the window - "I eat healthy but I keep gaining weight!" Not as healthy as you think. "My body needs to rest a day in between workouts." Not really. "I need protein every two hours or so!" Nope. "Several small meals are healthier than three." Not necessarily. "Eight glasses of water a day!" Don't stretch out your stomach. "Hunger pains keep me awake at night!" Thinking "hunger is the good feeling of your stomach shrinking" now lulls me to sleep. "I freak out when my blood sugar is low!" Not anymore.
I've lost twenty pounds since July 9 by working out every day and eating less. A lot less.
Typical day's menu: Raw oatmeal with zero fat Greek yogurt and raspberries. A bowl of soup OR a salad (NOT both), no cheese, unsweetened iced tea with lemon. One piece of pizza OR another salad with rice and beets, say, OR maybe an Amy's frozen burrito or entree, more iced tea. I've been avoiding snacks except for lots of veggies and the beautiful fruits of summer and a few (very few, I'm talking five or so) almonds or walnuts. No coffee, no alcohol, which has been surprising easy. Even when dear Christina offered me a splash of something white and bubbly, my usual favorite, on her deck one evening, it looked very pretty but when I got close, smelled like something foreign and looked heavy and not potable.
Here's the funny thing, though - it has happened so gradually that I can't really see much a difference. My clothes fit better, yeah! but I never minded the big tits and ass look. Rather liked it, in fact. It was the inescapable belly that bugged me and that, as most formerly pregnant women know, will never really go away.
I've wanted to share this with you all, dear readers, but there's been some unanticipated side effects to all the exercising. Like deep sleep and a desire for it that overrides my usual compulsion to sit and write at night. And in a kind of systemic interconnected way, there's been less anxiety than usual when I don't post. Not that I haven't wanted to share - Oy vey, what adventures we had this summer! Wandawega, daycamp, one of the final Kiddieland days and now, the excitement over a possible trip to Copenhagen. Which brings us back to poor Randy and his overworking. I can handle the usual days, but I do miss my dear partner. I miss the friends I can unburden to. I miss someone to share this new me with. I didn't even get a chance to tell him about my touch of anemia until this morning on his way out the door.
So today has been rough. After weeks of blissful summer, today I had a pity party. Brought on by no bigger stress than the ballet teacher gently saying Nora is being uncooperative. And a delayed shower. And a temporarily lost shoe. And a sympathy letter from strangers that showed up in my mailbox addressed to my brother who died thirty-three years ago last month. Just a terribly strange and sad coincidence, but today I am a camel dodging straws and I just want someone to say, "you look good - did you lose weight?" Yes. Yes, I did.