I have a confession to make, up until my MRI etc. (last week). I hadn’t left my house any more than a handful of times in 2009. My neurologist was incredulous. He suggested anti-depressants and I declined. I did, however, have to promise to leave the house everyday, get some exercise (remember I used to walk everyday?), and make sure to eat properly. Shouldn’t we all do that anyway?
It’s not an anxiety thing. I am not worried about leaving the house (really). I just don’t feel like it. I am exhausted, I don’t want to get dressed, I don’t want to cook. You get the idea.
Anyway … a promise is a promise, right? So I’ve been shopping, met a friend for coffee (thanks Pam), went for lunch with Hayley (kid #1), been to the dentist (woohoo).
I peter out about 4 p.m., so once supper is cooked and eaten, I organize the kidlets for the next day and I often go to bed. I usually get lucky and have a kid or two in bed with me. Mostly Georgia, because she’ll watch NEWS and like it (who knew?). Last night laying in bed, feeling guiltly because I wasn’t participating much in life, I promised her I would do two things with her today, she could pick. She wanted to jump on the trampoline with me and go for a bike ride. My balance is a bit wonky, so both are an effort.
Trampoline is a work out –> one, two, three, four, I declare a bum war.
Biking … HA, do remember when you were a kid and you needed a few tries to get all balanced and going. That’s me and my brainstem injury on a bike. It’s like I’m 6 again. VERY embarrassing at major intersections.
My couch warming, pj wearing, house loving, winter has left me somewhat plump (OK … down right FAT). I’m one of those unlucky women who is built like a barrel. I am massive on top and fairly normal on the bottom. My closet is full of regular sized jeans and my shirts are
I just can’t find a shirt that doesn’t emphasis the back fat. I need the magic shirt that makes me thin. I am ready to jump off a bridge. You pear-shaped fatty’s have it so much better. I’ve tried on about 30 shirts in the past week and each time, my life gets darker and more depressing.
I’d do anything … ANYTHING to loose weight (except diet and exercise). I want my pj’s back! Would it be wrong to pretend I was a nurse and wear scrubs?