Thursday, January 30, 2014
I stared at the scale for a long time this morning. I weighed myself five times just to make sure I wasn't tripping on antibiotics. But sure enough, it said what it said in spite of any logical explanation I could come up with, and it puzzled me, because I feel heavy, like lead. It wears me out to walk across the house. I went to the grocery store to pick up some milk, and it was all I could do to get out of the store without sitting down on the bench outside to take a nap in the sunshine.
What did the scale say, I hear you ask.
It said I was down a total of 20 pounds from May 1. I have apparently lost 20 pounds. I have absolutely no idea what to think about this, other than to just keep going. I am fully expecting to bounce back up into the 280s with a vengeance, but it hasn't happened, even though I'm doing my best to stay hydrated and eat something healthy.
I mean, I haven't had junk food in weeks. I haven't eaten over 2000 calories in two weeks. I also haven't moved in two weeks. None of this math is adding up very well, and it's kind of freaking me out. I mean, twenty pounds? Where did they go? Are they lying in wait somewhere in a closet or in the attic, ready to attack when I least expect it? Should I claim victory? Is this even real? I haven't seen the 270s since 2010. I'd forgotton what they looked like. Should I reward myself? It seems so odd, since what triggered this sudden drop in weight is illness.
I just don't know. I DO know, however, that I'm about to go stir crazy being cooped up in the house and not able to move for more than five minutes at a time. I'm going to make an attempt to work a little in the shop. Surely beating a clarinet into submission doesn't take TOO much energy.