Life has been a bit cartoonish lately. Not so much disorganized as it has been observed mayhem. Not of my doing, but have been a participant. And no where near a position or a place I could make decisions.
Micromanaging an event to the point of bringing out stock to serve because it was on the menu. The stock was for another location. That is why it was in individual containers and not plated for consumption.
Sniffles took several out of the loop this last week, but left me in a position to rack up some hours at work. And get a lecture that I have to watch my hours. (I work what I am asked to and I will work what I am scheduled to. The issue of staffing is not mine. And not mine to manage.)
Good news; I am within spitting distance of my 210 pound goal. And I couldn’t be happier.
However, I have been experiencing an increase with swelling and joint pain. Yes, I realize that will happen when you work on your feet, on concrete for 12 hours a day. I know that it is par for the course given my age. Paramount to all of this are the prior ankle surgeries and health issues. It hasn’t been this much of a distraction for quite some time. I decided to start journaling my diet again. It has helped me pinpoint some previous health concerns and has helped me correct some errors. Already after one day of recording, I’m discovering that I am getting off track a little. 1/3 of my nutrients after one day were carbohydrates, and I think it too is part of my sculpting/cutting problems.
Google Photo has been a bit of a motivator as of late. I have been really into the documenting my progress with the weight loss and such. I get these little reminders, ‘hey this is what you were doing two years ago…’ and there is this fat guy setting on a rock… koo-koo-kachooo where I look like a walrus.
I cannot begin to trumpet or herald the appreciation that I have for one of three Mike Castelgrande. He has been one of my biggest supporters, cheerleaders, opinion offerers. No, we do not have the same back story. We do not have the same history. We don’t go to the same gym, nor do we have the same workout philosophies or routines. We have a healthy commitment to living in common. We have an aspiration to be the best we can. I just haven’t gone on stage in my underwear… Okay, I guess I have. I have’t tanned and gone out in… with oil on… Okay, so we have more in common that what I was originally counting. But MCIII has been my biggest cheerleader and then turns my apprehension around to tell me that I’m an inspiration – for having accomplished what I have and to have made such a drastic life change as I have. If I screw this up, and inadvertently put all that weight back on, I think Mike would cry.
Google Photo reminded me the other day of a once upon a time. Photo was shot two years ago at Maryland Heights.The funny thing, I thought I was looking pretty hot when the photo was shot. Now looking back at it. I see a fat me that wasn’t as big as I use to be. (Guessing 290 pounds in this picture.) I had been going to my gym with some regularity for about a month and had made this climb after training on the elliptical and ARC Trainer.
I have been plagued by weirdos when it comes to the social life. Seriously, I am ready to just give up. If I do not text further, one can assume, that conversation is over, or I have nothing else to say. If you do not get further from me – did I receive text to reply to? If you feel further is necessary… text again, or phone. You have my number, you are texting me… Yes, I didn’t text further because the conversation had reached a conclusion, for me. I was offered assistance moving and painting. Who gets upset and angry because someone hasn’t called to impose upon them as slave labor? Well when I suggested that I didn’t know what time was going to be available to me, and that I had to check the schedule come Tuesday… It’s Friday – the schedule posting hasn’t gotten here yet. Sure one just passed – but I know what was on it. I’m busy. I can’t. I’m waiting till Tuesday to find out what my schedule is going to be, before making a decision. The winning just continues. I am not a fortune teller nor can I predict the future. (Well, I can as far as the possibilities of this relationship lasting the next twenty minutes…)
Berate means to accuse and yell at. I suggest I was not going to be berated for something I hadn’t done. Don’t ask me why I felt like I was humiliated. I am going to point out that beration has nothing to do with humiliation. (Unless in conjunction with…) Guess who was treating whom as if they were “stuped.”
I was asked to block and have no further contact with (insert name) because I had issues. My issues were that I didn’t care. (Yep!) That I couldn’t stick to the game plane. (Well, yes I could, can and have.) I don’t communicate. (I do when I’ve something to say, or if it is any of your business.) My issues were not the clinging, insecure, obsessive, bipolar, manic issues that you live with. And I agree they are all the good ones. Take your pills and don’t get mad because I say, “Okay, sure. I do not wish to participate in this anymore.”
Guess who got a text an hour and twenty minutes later… “What do you mean…?”
I was accused of being “easy”. When only a short time ago, I suffered embarrassing amusement after being told how lonely I was. How can any sane person wish ill health and disease on another? I think “stuped” is the right word to use here. “Okay sure” speaks volume to those listening, or at least should. The rest is karmatic.
…make mine a Sobe.