One Fourteen

"How much you weigh?  About One Fifteen?" a coworker asked this as I stepped on the digital scale at work, meant for weighing bulk orders for customers.  The number read 114.

"One Fourteen," I replied.  "But I think it's wrong.  My pants are too tight for one fourteen."  I was after all, up a notch on my already stretched out belt.  (I hated that.  Two weeks ago I was one a good notch of my belt.  And I moved up.)

I weighed 114 first thing in the morning too.  That's important to know because at work, I'd just been to the bathroom.  I'd been constipated all week, probably from my happy binge over Labor Day weekend.  At work, it suddenly hit me and I don't mean to be crude, but it was a lot.  I figured I'd lost at least a pound, maybe two just by using the bathroom.

And there the number sat.  One Fourteen.

Later that afternoon I took Zoe for her first round of big girl shots.  The vet lined up three needles saying, "You're about to become a teenager!" 

Two hours later Zoe was hurting pretty badly.  She was lethargic and favoring her right side terribly.  I picked her up to place her on the couch next to me and she cried that horrible noise.  It starts out like a "Heh," but has high pitched under tones and a heavy breath behind it.  I remember it so well from Prissy's last days.  If I even accidentally brushed my hand against her back, she cried out.  Then I cried, telling her that I was sorry, over and over.

I spent a few hours crying over her, trying not to cry, trying to hide it.  Eventually Shawn wrapped me in his arms as I spilled my guts to him.

"I don't mean to be silly.  I know she's OK but it's that awful cry, that awful noise.  It brings back so much and I just can't listen to it; I can't hear it!  I love her so much; I don't wanna see her hurting!"

It brought back WAY too many memories that are only months old.  It was too soon for me to hear that painful cry and it truly broke my heart all over again.  Towards late evening, it was clear Zoe was feeling a little better.  She seemed sleepy but was biting gently at my hands and chomping down on Shawn's.  I was finally hungry and not wanting to cut, cook, fix, or at all involve myself into making something to eat, I grabbed one of Shawn's microwave pork sandwiches.  It's like a McRib, but with very little sauce and rubbery bread.  And it was horrible.

Chalk that up to experience.  When I get upset, I put very little thought into what I eat.  I may eat whatever I think will make me feel better, or merely whatever is easy.  In this case it was both and it just left me disappointed and over my limit for daily calories.

Saturday.  It was the same today as I grabbed a box of cereal at the store and ate half of it in one sitting.  Even as I took the box to the living room, I KNEW I should have measured it into a bowl.  But I didn't.  And so I ingested over 700 calories during on TV program.  When am I going to learn?