My Week
I didn't blog most of the week as I'm sure you all noticed. I strategically spent my week with friends, knowing I could bury my weight loss journey woes, and also knowing that I'd likely be a bit encouraged to eat more freely, after all the journey was supposedly over. As you've read though, I didn't do much damage, the most damage done from fast food was to my mind.
I didn't go walking at the park a single day last week. I spent my days hanging with friends watching movies, and playing games. We had pretty intense Heads Up matches (a modern twist on charades for the iPad) that I was awful at, and then hit it old school for some Battle Mode in Super Mario Bros. 3 for the Super Nintendo, I dominated that one. It was a raging good time.
I seen my doctor for my follow up, and found out it's finally under control! She attributed this greatly to the combination of medicine tweaking, and my weight loss, the nurses assistant congratulated me on doing such a good job, they said they were rooting for me. They didn't know I had just fallen off the wagon, and then a familiar anxiety rose inside me as I suddenly envisioned coming back in three months, and having gained a ton of weight. What would they think of me? They seemed so genuinely proud of me. I truly felt pressured. It created a distant dark cloud that lingered all week.
I've already written about therapy this week, but what I didn't mention was that I again didn't do my homework. I just couldn't. I'm going to try to do it before I see her again, I have two weeks worth. But I won't see her next week, so I have extra time.
I want to dye my hair. People have been asking me what I'm going todo with it, I always read between the lines and decipher, "it's a mess, cut it off." My entire life I've cut it because my mom, and grandmothers, absentee father, brothers, all said I look more handsome. But after 27 years that's no longer taken as a nice gesture. I feel like it implies that I have become ugly and need to cut my hair so that I can become acceptable again. My whole life it's always been to either grow my hair out or cut it and generally when it gets to a certain height it's cut anyways. I always felt very limited by this, I wanted to be able to change things up, maybe do a different style, be a little different but I always ended up doing what others wanted to do because I just didn't want to risk looking any worse than I already did. Now I feel like something needs to change, a new style and color may be in my future.
I didn't go walking at the park a single day last week. I spent my days hanging with friends watching movies, and playing games. We had pretty intense Heads Up matches (a modern twist on charades for the iPad) that I was awful at, and then hit it old school for some Battle Mode in Super Mario Bros. 3 for the Super Nintendo, I dominated that one. It was a raging good time.
I seen my doctor for my follow up, and found out it's finally under control! She attributed this greatly to the combination of medicine tweaking, and my weight loss, the nurses assistant congratulated me on doing such a good job, they said they were rooting for me. They didn't know I had just fallen off the wagon, and then a familiar anxiety rose inside me as I suddenly envisioned coming back in three months, and having gained a ton of weight. What would they think of me? They seemed so genuinely proud of me. I truly felt pressured. It created a distant dark cloud that lingered all week.
I've already written about therapy this week, but what I didn't mention was that I again didn't do my homework. I just couldn't. I'm going to try to do it before I see her again, I have two weeks worth. But I won't see her next week, so I have extra time.
I want to dye my hair. People have been asking me what I'm going todo with it, I always read between the lines and decipher, "it's a mess, cut it off." My entire life I've cut it because my mom, and grandmothers, absentee father, brothers, all said I look more handsome. But after 27 years that's no longer taken as a nice gesture. I feel like it implies that I have become ugly and need to cut my hair so that I can become acceptable again. My whole life it's always been to either grow my hair out or cut it and generally when it gets to a certain height it's cut anyways. I always felt very limited by this, I wanted to be able to change things up, maybe do a different style, be a little different but I always ended up doing what others wanted to do because I just didn't want to risk looking any worse than I already did. Now I feel like something needs to change, a new style and color may be in my future.
