Well, after spending yesterday either being incredibly jittery from way, way, way too much caffeine and way, way, way too little sleep OR yawning so much that my eyes were tearing up and my mascara was running OR being so punchy that I told Sarah-bear a few family secrets (nothing incriminating, just very very funny) and laughed hysterically from her car to my desk and hoping frantically that I would be able to stop laughing OR any combination thereof, I did actually get home safely last night and fell asleep around ten.
Today I had an appointment with a nutritionist. The first thing they did was a metabolic analysis. It was really pretty cool, except for the whole doing it part. I had a little plastic thingie pinching my nostrils shut so I couldn’t breathe through my nose, and I had to breathe for ten minutes into a plastic mouthpiece connected to a plastic tube connected to a machine that analysed my metabolism. Apparently I have a fairly high metabolism. That’s good news, except for the fact that since I weigh as much as I do, that tells you how much I must eat in order to remain this fat. But I’ve started working on improving habits, and have actually lost about 6 pounds since the last time I was weighed. Whether or not I end up getting the lap band procedure done, this was a good experience to have.
I also had a hair appointment. I wavered back and forth between getting some wild kooky highlights put in, or something more conservative. My superlative hair stylist (email me if you want her contact info, because she is THE BEST bar none) did copper highlights, and gave me one of her incredible haircuts, and I feel fantastic. Isn’t it delightful how good you feel just by getting your hair done? Once upon a time I thought that was a chick thing, until I met my husband. He agrees, so I guess it’s a universal thing. She’s been having a rough go of things lately, which is sad. She’s not only a great hair stylist, but a really fantastic artist, an animal lover, and an all-around cool person.
Joe’s still in Florida; he is probably going to go visit one of his sisters tomorrow, and then he’ll be home on Monday. Molly’s asleep under the bed; Scout’s passed out on the loveseat; and all’s well with my world.