I have an appointment with my primary care physician tomorrow morning. The appointment has been on the books for almost six months. When I last departed her office with the little card that had the next appointment’s time and date on it, I was pretty confident. Almost six months to accomplish the five-pound weight-loss my young (young compared to me, at least), slim, female internist had recommended.
It also allowed plenty of time, theoretically, to tweak our menus a bit to be sure my blood sugar was reasonable.
During the months I had envisioned myself conscientiously shedding pounds, my energies were instead devoted to figuring out how many family events scheduled for May that Husband Walter and I would be able to participate in, from Virginia to Louisiana.
The timing, distance and the realities of stroke survivor travel necessarily eliminated some events from our itinerary. But we made two in Louisiana, one in Virginia, and two in Georgia, all in May. And in our family, celebrations mean food . . . good food . . . tempting food.
I was tempted. I succumbed. I ate my way through May and sigh, have started on June. Unless a miracle occurs tonight as I sleep, I will not only have failed to drop that pesky five pounds, I will likely weigh-in a few pounds over my last doctor’s visit. Well, I hope it will be just a few.
Do the scales at your doctors’ offices register higher weights than yours at home? No matter how we tinker with ours, weight at the doctor’s is always more.
But I am going to choose to think positively—that the good memories from our May travel will outlast, and outweigh, my added pounds!