After working for 18 straight hours on Saturday, after getting more bad news from the fertility doctor, last night this freelancer I'd hired just sort of did everything wrong. Meaning that I have a thing--a big thing--to do by Wednesday that I'd counted on someone else to do.
But I also have a medium-sized thing to do this morning, and a different huge thing to do this afternoon. Pressure and weight both up. And everyone, it feels, keeps feeding me. Shakeshack milkshakes. Sandwiches. Rolls. Buns. Treats. Feta. Of course I keep finding myself in positions where it's very easy for me to be fed. Deliveries and suchlike. Allergies and pressure in the nose. I could fix this with 100 miles on the bike.
My only clean pants for today's presentation are a pair of very tight jeans. They fit like a glove. A glove filled with suet. With a jacket they'll be fine--no one need see my pouched-up waist--but I'm wearing them right now to get used to them. And seeing bright lights.
Despair is not productive. Let me also remember that my problems are of the too-much variety, not the too little. Still, I'd prefer not to fail. Coffee in the morning and bike rides in the afternoon. Nothing is more important than remaining calm, aside perhaps from delivering. But all of a sudden I want to lose the remaining weight. All of a sudden that seems very interesting, a worthy investment.
| Food | Qty | Calories |
|---|---|---|
| Cereal, Hippie flakes, yellow, 3/4 c. | 1.3 | 160 |
| Cereal, Kashi, 1 c. | 120 | |
| Milk, 1 percent, 1 c. | 120 | |
| Total | 400 |
Weight: 295 lbs