I'm always tickled when I go to the doctor's office (any doctor, really) and they plunk me on the scale: without fail, they start out by moving the bottom bar to 100.
"Thanks for the compliment, but start at 150."
At least I haven't hit the point where they have to start with the bottom bar at 200, though I've come close. Today at the gynecologist's office (I know, why are they weighing me there?), I came in at 198. In my defense, this was after breakfast and coffee and while fully dressed, shoes included. And things aren't that bad if I can still fit into Lane Bryant size 14. Seriously, I love that store: it's the only place in the world where I can fit into their smallest size of clothing.
Anyhow, I have no intention of stepping on my own scale until the last of my family leaves on the 4th. Until then, I'm just doing my best to eat sane...which has not been easy. I also started exercising again. I got on the treadmill today and put in 30 minutes of brisk walking. I felt pretty good afterwards...until the chub rub started burning. So much so that I had been planning to walk again tomorrow but now I'm rethinking it.
Oh well. I didn't get like this overnight, and I'm not going to undo it overnight.
The nursing part of the entry: I'm off for a few days, which is nice. My last day in I had to take care of the kiddies: the kids' unit day nurse called off so enter Meriwhen, the hospital's professional floater. It was a nice day. We didn't have a lot of snotty kids, but several newbies for a change...and one frequent flyer who is truly psychotic. The last time we met (during a prior admission) I was administering a shot to him. This time around he was more cooperative...but psychotic enough that working with him was a challenge. Time to bring out the psych textbook and refresh myself on a few topics.
