Anal Glaucoma

I was having lunch at a local restaurant the other day when I overheard the following conversation:

Guy #1:  I'm trying to get some fishing in, but the weather has been sort of crappy.
Guy #2:  Yeah, I know.  It's supposed to rain on and off for the next few days.  The first good day predicted will be Monday.
Guy 1:  Really?  Then, I'll go to work for the rest of the week and call in with anal glaucoma on Monday.
Guy 2:  Say what?
Guy 1:  You've never heard of anal glaucoma?  That means I don't see my ass going in to work on Monday.

As Cindy Adams would say, only in New York, kids.  Only in New York.

Sunshine & Rainbows

Every time I speak with my oldest sister these days, she gets on my back about my "relentlessly negative" posts of the past few months.  So I had every intention today of writing something happy; you know, full of sunshine and rainbows.

Then, I decided not to.

You see, when I first started this blog, I made it clear that I would be writing my truth, no one else's.  And my truth is that sometimes my life is full of sunshine and rainbows, and sometimes, it's not.  Sometimes, I am in the mood for introspection.  Sometimes, I am in the mood for so-called "negativity."  Sometimes, it's about celebrity gossip.

As a child, I used to watch PBS's Electric Company.  There was a little Hispanic girl who was always painting.  When you looked over her shoulder to see what she was painting, it was always polka dots.  One day, one of the other characters asked her why she painted polka dots all the time.  And for the first time, she turned to face the audience and said, "Yo pinto lo que veo."  (I paint what I see.)  As she said that, the viewer noticed that she had spots on her glasses, so all she could see were those dots.

These days, that child is me.  I paint polka dots because that is what I see.  I make no excuses.  I have to say, though, that I haven't gotten any other complaints about my "negativity."  So, Mami-Sis, what is it that you are seeing?  Could you be wearing tainted glasses, too?

Love

I got this e-mail from my little brother, Roy, today and it almost made me cry.  Sometimes, it helps to know that someone, somewhere, is thinking of you and loves you.

Metamorphosis Complete

I have completed my metamorphosis into Soccer Mom.

Relapse and Deprivation :-(

Okay, I have been on Weight Watchers for 3 weeks now.  That means 3 weeks of no ice cream, no fried food, very little rice, no soda, no juice, no pizza, and tiny, tiny -- did I say "tiny"? -- portions.  And I lost a measly 8.9 pounds.

I've been working out 3 or 4 times a week.  AND I LOST A MEASLY 8.9 POUNDS!

With each passing week, it feels harder, not easier to stick with the plan.  I know that I am doing it the proper way -- the internet is replete with reports that optimal weight loss for long term maintenance is 1 to 2 pounds a week.  Lose any more than that, and your body thinks you're starving and slows your metabolism down to a crawl.  Weight Watchers does it the right way.  So why am I so miserable?

Progress is glacial, that's why.  I am the kind of person who needs immediate gratification (hence, my current predicament).  Which is why this past weekend, I forgot about Weight Watchers for a minute and ate an entire fried fish.  And fried plantains.  And drank soda.  And ate a whole hero sandwich -- with mayo!  Then I had some ice cream.  And movie theatre popcorn WITH butter.

Hey, I figured that if it took me 3 weeks to lose a piddly 8.9 pounds, it would take a while for the scale to creep up.  WRONG!  The next day, I hopped on the scale and was shocked to see that I had gained 2 pounds overnight.  So now, I've lost only 6.9 friggin' pounds.  Where is the justice in that???

Oh well, now that I've had my relapse, it's time to go back to the deprivation (sigh).