My annual medical exam was something of a disappointment because, you see, I have no fibroid tumors or other fantastic growths on which to blame my 10-pound weight gain. I made my doctor do an extra pelvic pass just to be sure, and then I double and triple checked.
“No. No tumors.”
“How about one tumor?”
“Nope. Not even one tumor.”
“How about a teeny, tiny… none? You’re sure?”
“Well, dang it.”
In fact, I just received my blood results, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me other than the massive Vitamin D deficiency that’s turning all of us Pacific Northwesterners into sparkly vampires. The lab technicians didn’t even have the courtesy to manufacture a slight dip in my thyroid. (Note to self: acquire more lab technicians as friends.)
If I’m not very, very careful, I’m going to have to blame some kind of crazy combination of overeating and not exercising for the weight. (I know. The horror! I should’ve posted this on Halloween.)
I meandered through old family photos tonight, and I found a few pictures of my twins raiding the pantry.
Do you ever have moments when you look at your children and think Oh dear Heavens… that’s ME!
Right. (Ahem.) Of course not.
In unrelated news, I signed up for Weight Watchers again tonight.
No particular reason.
No reason at all.