Thursday, October 11, 2007

I'm a liar

I went to the doctor for a check up yesterday. I did not, as it turns out, lie to him, though that is always an instinct I have to fight against. I went to ask about the long unhealed lesion on my forehead and my funky post-fall knee skin and to tell him that I lost 20 lbs. On purpose. Which I didn't say at first and you should have seen the concerned look on his face.

So he put me up on the important doc scale with the balancy weights and I was excited to see what the result was, while still preparing myself for it to be different because I've always told myself (and you and pretty much anyone who will listen or who stands still long enough to look as though they're listening) that it's all about relative loss not about the number on the scale. It's like when you really want the boy to call but you tell yourself you don't care but still every time the phone rings you have an urge to put on some lip gloss.

Next time I'm bringing my own fucking scale. The number on the scale was a full 10lbs heavier than what I have recorded as my weight. It's like not only did the boy not call but he had his asshole friend come over and call me names.

Guess what? It's actually not about relative weight loss for me it's about the number on the scale. Surprised? I thought not.

So, I've renewed my commitment to the program and shoved aside all thoughts of being finished with this journey before the holidays. I'd like to be finished at the one year mark which would be in March and I'd like to be at 125 on my scale which will put me at 135 on the doc's stupid asshole scale from hell.

I have learned that the fashion industry really is screwing with us because I fit into a pair of size 10 pants that ProfDoc sent me this week and into my old size 10 painter's jeans and yet I'm still 135. Mind you in those new pants I look like I was wandering through the zoo and decided to steal the toe off a camel but still, I can zip them and I can sit down so regular usage is not too far off.

Also I got a flu shot. Also also when he ordered fasting blood work on me (just 'cause I haven't had it done in a couple of years) I remembered that last time he'd asked me if I wanted STD screening and, just for good measure, I had them done but this time not only did he not ask but I have not participated in any activities that would warrant my reminding him. Years people. No wonder I only wear pants with the Cranky label.

After all that I went right out and rewarded myself with frozen yogurt.

6 comments:

  1. Anonymous5:10 PM

    You're making me laugh here 'cause you're SO INCREDIBLY RIGHT about this. The same thing has happened to me at the Doc's, to my horror, and I'm just so, so sorry. These are the occasions for which they MAKE that frozen yogurt stuff.
    Christa

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  2. First of all, I LOVE how you write. "not only did the boy not call but he had his asshole friend come over and call me names."

    You rock.

    Second of all, I could have seen this coming. This is why I don't own a scale - and I always do my weighing on the same scale at the health club.

    I'm not going to try to convince you that it's relative - because you've already decided it's not and I know better than to fight you on it - but I'm still WICKED proud of you.

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  3. Christa, I wonder by "the same thing" do you mean the weight thing or the STD test thing? :)

    Chili, thanks for being proud of me, it helps to have someone else do that part since I am both proud of myself and just so freaking pissed off, alternating by minutes. I'm glad of the accomplishment just very Capricorn about having to readjust my perspective relating to how close I am to the end of the tunnel.

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  4. OH MY GOD it's TOTALLY about the number. Doesn't matter how many pair of fabulously camel toe-d pants you fit into, you know you are on your way to Skinny Bitchville, you see it in the mirror, the pants are screaming You Go GIRL, but that effing scale will have you rocking back and forth in a corner eating your hair...it sucks.

    I am very very proud of you.

    The journey is just that. if it was quick it'd be a trip. or a jaunt. or a little skedaddle. Notsomuch. it's a JOURNEEEEEEEY.

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  5. Leave it to me to disagree.
    But I don't really get on the scale.
    First of all because it is frightening and I would go on a killing rampage.
    Second because it is not accurate.
    How my clothing fits is.
    I know when I can get innto my Pre-Noodle jeans that lace up in the crotch and have super wide bells bottoms and are a size 2...
    I will be skinny again.
    For now... I am in my fine but not forever Seven jeans that make my ass look black girl.
    On a day to day basis, its all about the fit.
    And if I can't get into the Seven jeans... I do throw one.
    I tell the Dr. "NO." by the way.
    I don't believe in scales. I don't weigh at the DR's office.
    They don't like it but Fuck um. I don't always like what they tell me either.
    Your pants might be cranky but mine are nuckin futs.

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  6. My opinion is that doctor's scales are always set to "FAT ASS" which is why I never use them either! I have one pair of jeans that serves as my scale. If I can't fit into them I need to cut back on the ice cream. Keep your chin up, the number isn't that important.

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