Jibs & Jabs of a Cranky Old Hag
Scale, scale on the floor – tell me the truth and lie no more.
I woke up one morning around 3 AM to go do what old people do at 3 AM - use the bathroom. On the way back to bed, I went into the kitchen. While in there, I spotted the scale on the floor so; I decided that since I haven’t weighed myself in about a month, I’d step on it to see what I weighed.
In the dimly lit kitchen it read 265. I was so upset. That’s a 15 pound-difference from when I weighed myself last month. How did I gain 15 pounds? I hardly eat enough now!
I was so upset that I could not go back to sleep.
Two hours later, still miffed, I got up again and stormed into the kitchen to have a word prayer with my scale. I told it that there was no-(cuss words)-way I had gained 15 pounds. I just wasn’t having it.
Before stepping on it again, I warned, one more time, that it better show me the right (more cuss words) weight this time or I would break it in half and throw it in the (even more cuss words) trash (I’m very well versed in cuss words).
The scale shivered in fear and apologized profusely. It admitted it had gotten the previous reading wrong and instead of 265, it was really 246.5 – At 3 in the morning, I failed to see the 4 between the numbers 2 and 6 or see the decimal point after the six.
That’s better! Now, I had actually lost five more pounds instead of gaining 15. On a more positive note, the scale and I have resumed our relationship.
My son and I were getting ready to go hang some Christmas lights in town so, I went to get dressed while he waited.
I came out of the bedroom dressed and this is the conversation just before leaving.
Him: Mom, why are you wearing pants with a dress?
Me: They’re leggings, not pants.
Me: We’re going to hang lights on Front Street: would you rather I just wore a shirt instead of a dress that covered all my rolls, wrinkles, and pockets of cellulite?
Him (blink, blink): You look good, Mom. Let’s go
LOL – I guess that shut him up.
My husband and I had lunch at Olive's Tavern. Before leaving I used the ladies' room. I came out and walked all through the restaurant, past a table full of sheriff deputies, and out to the car.
We went to Wal-worsts afterwards to pick up his medicines and something for dinner. I got out of the car and started walking...
It felt drafty so I tugged at my dress and it felt fine. As I'm crossing the pedestrian crossing, a lady hollars out her window, "Ma'am, you need to pull your dress down in the back."
I felt on the other side (where I did not feel the draft) and my dress was tucked into my granny panties with half my ass hanging out. What a day!
I think my dogs sense there's something wrong today. They keep following me around everywhere I go as I wander from room to room.
My fat little beagle, Charlie, is bouncing next to me. He looks like a miniature Winnebago with a tail as he jumps and bounces up and down trying to make me feel better. When I sit down, Bianca, the blue healer, will lay her head on my lap as if to say "it will be all right."
My blood sugar is in the 80's and I know I have to eat, but I absolutely have no appetite. I do need to eat so I've tried a few things. I tried some ragoons, I fixed two of them and choked down half of one and gave the rest to the dogs.
I still have some (stove top popped) popcorn left from my hurricane snacks that I didn't eat. I ate a kernel and tossed the dogs a handful. They finished that and followed me back into the kitchen.
Cottage Cheese -- eww
Oatmeal -- eww
Left over baked chicken from dinner that I didn't finish -- nope
I tried a sugar-free wafer, but didn't want that either. I took one bite and gave the rest to the dogs. They're so cute...wait, they're following me around because I have food!