Thursday, December 13, 2007


If I ate like my preceptor - or even like how I eat on clinic days - all the time, I'd lose weight for sure.

Yesterday in the half hour that she was busy with a counseling session for someone that didn't want a student in the room, I wrote SOAP notes and reviewed charts and scarfed down the egg, two carrots, and orange I brought with me. So all yesterday I had that, coffee, and a bowl of spaghetti when I got to Neighbor's house to trade off (she watched my kids, I came back and watched hers).

Yeah, I'd lose weight for sure.

Which would be a good thing at this point.

While I love *who* I am, I am continually see pictures of myself, to look down and see chubby hands, things like that. And I fluctuate all over the place, from pants almost falling down at the moment to barely fitting just before a period. Which drives me NUTS and has to be a function of the lovely padding I've got on my midsection right now. What is funny is that there is a very accurate scale at the YMCA, and I've found that even when I'm stretching/falling out of my pants, the scale tells me I'm only about a pound off. Am I destined to be this weight? Well, that would stink, eh?

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