I think I need to give up Jenny Craig for a while. My consultant is nice enough. But she's a rah rah girl. I may have to kill her soon. There are times when no amount of cheerleading is gonna cut it. I need to be honest with her and tell her that she's obnoxious but I'd hate to make her cry. She's so supportive that I'm considering renaming her Bra. Sheesh. Honestly, I am not doing well with sticking to the Jenny food and feel like I'm letting Bra and myself down. But Bra's pocketbook isn't taking the same hit as mine. Sure, she works on commission but I'm the one reusing toilet paper to pay for the JC food. By reusing toilet paper, I mean that I am using the rolls that Frostee has chewed and mangled. You thought I was seriously doing a recycle thing, huh? You are twisted, dear reader.
I should be in the pool right now, jogging my pudgy little heart out. Instead, I'm blogging, messing on Facebook and trying to put life into perspective. My day started with a call from my dad. My aunt has died. No, not the aunt who is ill and in hospice. A different one. The one who never liked me. It's true. You can ask my mom. Aunt Iola was a character. She was prim and proper and a real stick up the butt type. But being married to my uncle, she had little choice on that. It was sad when I realized that she was one of the very few people who attended my parents' wedding. Family and friends are dying off and it's sad and depressing.
Yesterday was a joyful event. NOT. I started the day with my dad and his visit to his oncologist. It went okay. He had a chest x-ray and the films looked a bit better than the previous ones. The tumor in the left lung looks smaller. There is scar tissue though and he needs to see a pulmonologist. He doesn't want to out of fear and ignorance. I may have to smack him. So, we finished that fun and went into the hospital to get my mom. Finally got her discharged and made our way to the rehab center. Mommy is a frequent resident there. I have no idea how long she'll be there or what they'll be able to do. While she is incarcerated (snicker), we will be looking into a permanent facility for her and my dad. They are adamantly opposed. Too bad, so sad. No, seriously, this is really hard. There isn't any other choice. For them to remain at home is not safe, not feasible and not even workable. I talked about the kinds of facilities and what they had to offer. Both parents had objections. I kept talking. I know they were angry and my dad thought it was a bad time to talk about it. Like there's a GOOD time? We've been dancing around this for six months. It's time.
But back to the cheerleader... I'm not sure having to "report in" to her and have that accountability is good for me right now. I am accountable to myself. I don't know that the pressure of worrying about pleasing anyone else is what I need. At least right now. I'm already dreading the Wednesday phone call. I'm so tired, so stressed, so sad and in such despair, I don't really care what number is on the scale. I'm feeling guilty right this minute. I should be in the pool. I just don't care today. I don't have the energy to walk out there, much less get in and jog. And yes, that's when I need the exercise and Zen time the most. I am so not feeling it. I'm on the edge of tears and I can't give in to that.
So, my dear readers, let's hope tomorrow is a better day. My thought for today is: Cheerleaders Should Be Maimed and Left in a Bloody Heap. Or something to that effect.
I remain,
Your Pool Girl
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