You can know anything. It's all there. You just have to find it.

-Neil Gaiman


Wednesday, August 5, 2009


So I went for another doctor appointment yesterday.

I tipped the scales at 160 lbs.

It's the most I've ever weighed; I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

I wasn't surprised. Especially considering what I had eaten that day:

Two pieces of whole wheat toast slathered thickly with peanut butter (chunky organic)(6 am)
Coffee with skim milk

banana (8 am)

Babybel cheese; 5 cherry tomatoes (from the garden) and 10 Triscuits (8:10 am)

Blueberry acai yogurt (weird, but good)(11 am)

Grilled chicken sandwich on wheat bread with avacado and lettuce (11:30)

Nectarine (11:30)

Small bowl of strawberry, pineapple, and melon chunks (11:30)

Granola bar (12 pm)

That was all I brought for lunch that day and by 2 pm I was hungry again, excuse me, the BABY was hungry again. And kicking me. And bopping me. "More Food! More!!!!" It is a demanding little bugger.

So I went up to the little deli market in Blegen Hall and bought a large skim milk, an egg salad sandwich (weird, but for some reason it looked good to me) and a chocolate raspberry pastry bar of some kind.

I ate it all and felt like a blimp.

Then I left at 3pm and was walking across Washington Avenue bridge when, low and behold, a Jimmy John's worker was hawking free Jimmy Johns sandwiches! FREE! SANDWICHES!

"Would you like a sandwich?" the girl asked. "We have turkey and ham & cheese."

Would I like a sandwich? Does the pope wear a weird hat? Are beans green? Um, yes I would like a sandwich. "I'll have a turkey." I say.

She eyes my bulging belly. "Would you like another? You can have two."

"Oh, that's okay. One's fine," I say, too quickly, deciding that eating TWO sandwiches would be very piggy.

I eat my sandwich as I waddle off to my appointment. Then I slug down my water bottle as I sit in the waiting room.

And then I get weighed. When I see the number I am both impressed and appalled. "Whatever," I mutter to myself.

The appointment is fine. I'm practically a textbook case, utterly average in every respect.

While I'm waiting I text Matt and tell him how much I weigh.
Then I want to know how much he weighs.
He doesn't know but guesses around 175-180.
I tell him that I'm gaining on him, but then he asks why would I want to do that?

I have to think about it. I don't really know, some sick thing in me wants to be able to say I outweigh my husband and could crush him like a bug with my big giant roly-poly body. I would be like Jabba the Hut. He would FEAR me.

Then I realize there is something desparately wrong with that line of thinking.

When I leave I grab a packet of graham crackers.

1 comment:

Christina E. Rodriguez said...

That was nice of the Jimmy John's lady to offer you two sandwiches. It's refreshing in this day when folks no longer give up their seats on buses and subways to pregnant women or the elderly.