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I got on the scale this morning just to ruin my day … and I think I’ve lost 25 lbs. I can’t remember exactly where I started, but it’s at least 24, so I’m rounding up – and it might not even be a lie.

Thursday night we were treated to the 617th snow storm of the winter (including freezing rain, so that the snow was packed on top of a sheet of ice) – then it decided to sleet this morning, so I got to go sledding on my way to work. As I approached the side street to get to the building, I got into the turn lane about 40 yards before I needed to, because I knew, I just knew, I was going to slide. And I did. Spectacularly, if I may say so. The car went hard to the right, so I turned into it and prayed.

By which I mean I yelled “JESUS! FUCK! No one was behind me, but I was worried about the oncoming traffic, which seemed to neither notice nor care that I was about to plow into them. They didn’t even slow down. I ended up at a 90 degree angle – but facing the street I was planning to turn onto. I straightened the wheel and hit the gas. Did I mention that the side street has a sharp curve? It does. It also has ditches on both sides. The road curves to the right and my car went left. I stayed out of the ditch, but I was shaking by the time I got into the building. I hate ice.

I ran into Bosshole. She took one look at me and said, “Are you losing weight?” And I looked down. I was absolutely LOST in a sweatshirt that used to be too tight and my jeans were bagging off my legs and my butt (which used to have its own zip code). Her comment was, “They don’t pay you enough to buy clothes that fit?” I guess not.

I bought groceries today for the first time in a month. I’ve been out of food for 2 weeks and haven’t really noticed. My sink is full of coffee cups. Apparently, I’ve been living on coffee and nicotine.

Which has to stop. The nicotine, I mean. For fuck’s sake, I quit for over 4 years! It took no time at all to get back to a 2 pack a day habit. I am disgusted with myself.

MoC yelled at me, in her own non-yelly way. I made the mistake of telling her about a call I got from a cheerleader at Phoenix, who wanted to tell me about graduation and was so goddamn chipper that it brought out the snark in me. Which isn’t really all that hard to do these days. I told MoC I didn’t know if I wanted to walk in the ceremony or not.

MoC: Well, how else are you going to get your diploma?

Me: They’ll be happy to mail it to me. I don’t have to participate in the ceremony.

MoC: But then you’d disappoint your mother.

Me: Wouldn’t it be easier to just stab me?

MoC: But not as much fun. Besides, I want to go.

So I guess that settles that.

At least I’ll be able to get a smaller gown.

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