So, I had to go to the doctor this morning for my once-every-twelve-weeks shot in the butt, and the nurse asked if I wanted to be weighed.
Not particularly, I thought to myself. I know by the way my skirt zipped up this morning that I've gained a leeetle weight.
I've never struggled with my weight, other than the obligatory peer-pressure diets I endured when I was a teenager. Never really given it that much thought, other than to lay off the donuts for-the-love-of-Christ.
And then I quit smoking.
And evidently smoking really DOES keep you thin, because now? I have to do my Jillian Michaels a few times a week to keep from blowing up into epic proportions. Come summer, when I'm hiking and mowing the lawn and gardening and wading in the creek, I will not have this problem, but here in the middle of January? Aeeeeesh.
Actually, if I could just gain a pound or so in my FACE, I'd be happy. Nobody ever told me that with age comes gauntitude. I had to learn that one for myself. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure that the only way to gain weight in my face is to gain it all over the place, so, yeah, not so much.
Oh! And for something completely unrelated, I went to Home Depot and bought a new washer last night. I really wanted to use the local guy, but after he sold me a washer that shit the bed after a YEAR, I decided against it and went with the corporate behemoth who is squashing the small businessman under its mighty heel.
Just call me Miss Sellout. They have free! delivery! And they will deliver on a Saturday, so I don't have to miss work! SOLD.
ANYway, the guy at Home Depot is typing up my delivery order, and it turns out he lives one street away from me. And knows a bunch of my ex-in-laws, AND his daughter went to school with one of my nieces andandand
this really is WAAAAY too small of a town.
So! Shot in the butt, and a new washer. It's pure excitement over here.