I wasn’t really tired today. Or super hungry until the last hour or so.
But I forgot to take my afternoon Adderall at 2:00 like usual, so I took it just before 5:00. And I wanted something sweet but low-calorie, so I had another coffee with cereal for dinner. So I may be up late tonight.
I should’ve just had a Fiber 1 brownie. They’re super sweet, and only 70 calories. 2 points, same as coffee. Oh, well.
I do feel tired right now. But I think that’s to be expected. I’ve been up since 5, I drove to Manchester and back, I stood around for four hours at work, and did my biking when I got home. Who wouldn’t be tired after that?
I don’t have decaf coffee anymore because I returned it. That was before I became a huge coffee drinker. It was in a giant box, taking up space in the pantry. I guess I’ll need a small box of decaf.
Sally is so nice to me now. I wonder if she knows I’m leaving. I should visit her at her other job. I doubt I will, though. We have the same store in Somersworth.
I wish I knew why some size 8s actually fit me, but then some size 10s cut off my circulation. Well, I do know why: different styles and brands and all of that. But I kind of wish women’s clothing was more…uniform, pardon the pun.
Men have it made. They’ve got no boobs, no ass (mostly) and no hips, and they don’t even have to try anything on; they only have to know their waist circumference and inseam.
They’re really not as pretty as we are, though. It’s nice to have assets.
I have pants that will fit me in a few weeks if I can have more days like the last two. Not even all great on-program days, just most.
I’m afraid to say what I’m thinking because I don’t want to jinx it. But the last two days have felt much better, more like before…
Desmond’s doctor visit went well. I have hope now that things may start to get better for him. I love him and his sister so stinkin’ much it hurts. My babies. The thought of them suffering, even momentarily, kills me. I cry when they cry, especially Desmond, for some reason. Even when he’s been very fresh, his crying just makes me want to run to him and comfort him. Even when I know my intervention won’t be well-received and he’ll just snap at me.
Does that make me a sucker? Or is it the maternal instinct?
I have to go help with the trash.