Did you know that dogs can get acne? Because I didn’t.
Scout had these nasty bumps all over his chin, and I couldn’t figure out what they were. So since Joe was taking Emmy to the vet anyway for her introductory check-up, I asked him to take Scout as well.
Turns out those nasty bumps were zits. The vet squeezed them and treated them; gave Joe a prescription for antibiotics; and told him that we have to squeeze them whenever they pop up, and treat his chin with Clearasil.
Scout is a big kisser, and he likes to kiss me on my face. I’m guessing that may be why my face has asploded.
Oh, and squeezing Scout’s zits? That’s Joe’s job. I’m just sayin’.
We’ve been getting numerous postcards and letters about signing the gas lease so they can drill for natural gas under our neighbourhood. And Joe and I finally went to find out the details. We ended up signing the paperwork. They were advertising a $3K signing bonus per net acre. We obviously have nowhere near an acre of property, so we get a whopping $603. Joe and I agreed that we are going to split it between us, so I can add $301.50 to my savings account. I like having a cushion instead of always being so close to the dollar. Izzy has inspired me, and I’m going on a money diet as well. I’ve already cut way back on the books I purchase for my nook. I’m doing a lot of research for a project Izzy and I are working on, so I’m trying to do it online. I did buy one book for $10 (and may I say here that it really chaps my hide to pay so much for an e-book when I could get a printed copy for less). I was planning to go to Half-Price Books this weekend to find some more resources, but I got lovely coupons in the mail yesterday that are good from July 11-17, so I’ll hold off.
I have lost 50 pounds. That’s great. I’m really happy about it. But at the same time, I’m still really fat. So I keep hearing people at work compliment me on how good I look, and then I see a photograph of myself, and it makes me want to barf. Joe took one the other day that made me cry because I look like a huge whale. Why are photographs so cruel? Is it because they catch you at angles you never catch when you’re looking in the mirror?
It’s funny anyway, because on the one hand, when I look in a mirror, I see how heavy I am. But on the other hand, I don’t see myself as heavy. It’s odd. What did they call it in the Matrix–residual self-image? I know what I look like underneath the layers of fat, and I see that I’m slowly getting there. I keep getting into smaller clothes, which is a mental boost. Joe is insistent on taking lots of photos of us with the dogs, because he regrets that we didn’t take more with Molly. So somehow I’ve got to not let myself get stressed about the (adjective deleted) photos.