It was just over six months ago that I came on here, all full of vim and vigor, talking, apparently out of my ass, about gettin' fit and losin' weight and bein' all that I could be.
You remember… I made the funny cover of me on my own version of O magazine. It was shore 'nuf funny stuff. Good times. Woo hoo. That Cathy. What a wackadoo!
Late last week, I found myself in for my annual "Ladies Business" exam, which means in addition to making uncomfortable small talk while having my nether regions reviewed, I also got to jump on the old doctor's office scale, also known as the Evil and Blinding Messenger of Truth and Ego Destruction.
And you know, and I know, and EVERYONE knows that the doctor's scale is always WAY more than your typical home scale, right?
So when she stopped on 179, I just chuckled, and said something to the effect of, "Is this thing stoned?" and quickly stepped off.
Then I launched into my, "Did you know I quit smoking three years ago, and used to weight 140 pounds and thought THAT was heavy" litany, the same one I also like to give anyone I haven't seen in a while, and the nurse just smiled, and patted the back of my hand and said, "I used to be skinny too!"
I'm stuck. And I don't feel all that witty or clever or fun right now. Just puffy and round and on the verge of jumping into the 180s and beyond.
I wish there was a pill I could take, just one time, to solve this issue. Even if it meant I'd immediately grow a tail.
I know what it takes to do what it is that I seem to want, but right now, I seriously just want to throw up my hands and say: TO HELL WITH IT! GIVE ME THOSE PRINGLES NOW!
I'm sure when I'm thinking clearer I'll regret this post, which is beginning to feel a bit like a drunk dial.
At the same time, I just needed to piss and moan a little about this. I don't feel cute. I don't feel strong. And I don't feel like I have what it takes today to do anything about it.
Thank God for tomorrow, right?
Whine session, over. Thank you.