The potato chips of mourning*

I’ve been quiet. This week has been incredibly busy, with deadlines out the wazoo. I have another deadline tomorrow, but am not sweating it as much as the paper and Spanish test I had on Thursday.

This class I’m taking on Thursday nights is killing my soul. I am currently taking it for a grade, but am trying to get my status changed to credit/no credit now that it appears it’s not required for my coursework. Ugh. I got my “homework” back from the previous week on Thursday and I got a “check minus.” I am 35 g-d years old and getting my PhD. Check minus has no place in my world. I don’t even give my undergrads check minuses. You know why? Because they are adults, not third graders. Never mind that I’ve spent two weeks reading the book that was the subject of the homework, trying very conscientiously to absorb and understand it. Nor that I’ve been laboring for the past several months on a book project that has snowballed in the home stretch before submitting the manuscript to the publisher’s. Nor anything else that’s going on my life. Nope. Check minus. That’s what I earned. What. the fuck. ever.

Needless to say, I had a bit of a fit. Not publicly, and not directed toward the prof, but there were tears. And if I hadn’t had a weigh in at WW the next morning, there would probably have been wine and/or chocolate.

But I was good, and the scale reflected that on Friday morning. 3.2 pounds gone my first week back in the saddle! It’s amazing how easy it is, although eliminating dairy presents a bit of a challenge in that it is so easy to just grab a yogurt and a piece of fruit for breakfast. A girl can only have so much oatmeal. Since my meeting is on a Friday morning, the first weekend back was pretty difficult. I spent those first couple of days just retraining myself to snack on fruits and veggies instead of Wheat Thins and Goldfish. Once the workweek started, it was much easier to track points — it helps not being five paces away from the pantry, too.

And, of course, I did exactly what I swore to myself (and to M, my WW partner in crime) I wouldn’t do after our first meeting together. The women in the meeting were talking about all of the voodoo/borderline anorexic things they do before meetings. Don’t eat anything with too much salt the night before. Don’t wear jeans. If your meeting is in the morning, don’t eat breakfast. I used to do all of those things, and I hated that I was such a slave to what that scale would say, a reflection of my “true weight.” But, of course, I ate the blandest, most salt-free thing I could find on Thursday night, and nothing passed my lips on Friday morning until after my weight had been recorded. Ridiculous. Also, I’m superstitious and will make sure I weigh on the same scale each week.

It’s crazy, I know, but if it keeps me going and keeps me losing, I guess I’ll just have to settle for being crazy.

Yesterday, I went to Stitch with C and L and spent a LOT of money. But I got some Yule gifts and a very cool t-shirt for myself (which I did not pay $45 for). I am very committed to purchasing handmade or making Yule gifts this year, but I’m going to have to reconcile myself to the fact that handmade stuff is going to cost more than the lead-drenched, Chinese sweatshop-produced plastic crapola you can pluck off the shelves at Target. But damn, it is hard to justify paying $28 for an embroidered American Apparel t-shirt for rapidly growing children, even though I know I’d be supporting entrepreneurial mothers and friends.

I have work to do, so should sign off. Tomorrow, a recipe for butternut squash and carrot soup. Yum.

*with apologies to Avital Ronell

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