Had a strange week this week. Had a couple of auditions, but wasn't feeling particularly energetic about that even though there's been quite the lull since the writer's strike. Was feeling blah, blah, blah. Anemia, I don't know. Tired. Weepy. True I had my period, but I generally feel better after a couple of days. And thanks to the uterine artery embolization, that was a little weird. It was more like heavy spotting instead of the usual Red River Valley. I have to admit, that whole talk about my husband's fears of me getting pregnant spooked me. And a couple of my favourite IF bloggers received BFPs. Oh, yeah, IVF does actually work. Nice to know cause they've been at it a while and I'm relieved and happy for them. But all the talk of POAS got me thinking - I want to pee on a stick too! What is wrong with me? I've become lethargic about the going to the gym (missed a couple of days, thank goodness, I twisted my knee - too much chanting on my knees?) and hence I didn't go to my Weight Watchers this morning. Couldn't face that nazi scale that might tell me I've gained 0.8 lbs. That would have totally fucked with my day. I think I've hit a plateau and need to go hardcore again. Sigh. I want a bag of chips. Seriously.
I had dinner with my MIL last weekend. She asked me how I felt about my weight loss, did I feel really great about it and wasn't I so proud of myself and all that. Yeah, I feel good about it, my gut is definitely smaller in the mirror, and my clothes are hanging off me, but I'm not all that thrilled. Nothing fits and I don't have money for a new wardrobe so every time I get ready to go out somewhere I have to pin up my pants. And I still have at least 10 - 20 more lbs to go. I'm kind of in between sizes at the moment. Dear hubby is thrilled and compliments me all the time. Yet, I knew who I was 20 lbs ago, and I knew that my life wasn't magically going to change even if I could fit into a smaller size. Come to think of it, when I was a size 10 oh so many years ago, I wasn't happy cause I wasn't a size 8. Had I known the retail purgatory awaiting for me at size 14 and size 16, I would have stopped eating. This is what happens when you're an actress and you're constantly surrounded by size 0 - 4 people. And that's the guys.
Hubby asked if I had done the Dear Birth mom letter, etc. I haven't. Nor have I looked into getting an immigration ID for a US adoption. Why not you may ask? Cause I'm too busy reading IF blogs? Going to the gym? Mmmm. Dragging my heels, I think. Not only am I famous for procrastinating on paperwork of any sort (let's not talk about taxes), I'm feeling decidedly unenthusiastic. Not that I've changed my mind about adoption at all. But I'm definitely hanging on to something in the past. Resentment, grief, distrust? I don't know. I'm responsible for my own life condition, I know, but I'm just blah about a lot of things at the moment. I'll figure it out. Now wonder I want chips, which is what I'll have right after I get back from spin class.