It’s Happening

I’m getting old. And I know I’ve talked and wallowed in this all before. And I know by age number that in the grand scheme of things, I’m not exactly old. But I’ve received my first reality check that I have taken all things for granted, including good health.

My cholesterol is borderline high. It’s 212 and it should be less than 200. I am told it’s “moderate” by the woman who took the test at our benefits fair here at work yesterday. I was sort of cocky walking over there.

They’re going to tell me I’m fine whereas J who just had her test done is going on and on about how she has high cholesterol and blood pressure.

But no, the woman writes down my score and waves me over like a teacher looking for the child who needs “help”. A pity party.

“Do you exercise?” She asks.

What? Yes!

“Well a young…” Pause. Silence. Then, more quickly.

“A young WOMAN like yourself has time to make changes in the way you eat and exercise to get your cholesterol down.”

At least my blood pressure was normal.

A, who I work with (who needs to fine-tune her eating if you get me) said that those tests were wildly “off”. Denial, I think. But maybe they are and my cholesterol is fine. But what if they’re not “off”?

On the same day as the cholesterol test I get a comment from my favorite colleague.

“You look thin today.” A smile appears on her face.

While smiling I tell her to shut up.

+++

In the good news department I bought a new dress I fell in love with a month or so ago. I wanted to buy it but it was too pricey. Well, there was the dress again when I was at the store last night. It taunted me with its size 4 tag and hefty price.

I had heard the saleswoman pressuring girls and their mothers shopping for prom dresses that there was a sale, she had coupons. So I grabbed the dress that sat behind an ugly one as if someone had tried to hide it. I looked around for a size 6–but I noticed there were no more dresses like this anywhere in the store.

This was the last one. I almost started talking aloud, reasoning out why I should try on a dress that probably wouldn’t fit and look good and work. And why I should try it on when it’s twice what I want to pay?

So to make myself feel better, I brought a few other dresses in with me to try on so that the pressure didn’t lie in just this one silly thing. But I tried what I had my heart set on first. And I loved it. And it made me look THIN. And that’s great when the size is FOUR.

This dress I will get upset over if after having children I cannot fit back into it. It’s black, but fun, black and practical, black and do you know how long it’s been since I’ve bought something both practical AND cute? It’s usually just the latter.

So I got 50 bucks off the price–but it was still above my price range for a dress.

But there was no way I was letting this go…again. This was meant to happen.

Tomorrow I’ll debut it.

The prego jokes have died down and my mood has returned to not-pissed.

I’m still eyeing all the foods I eat, making myself feel guilty if I go back for seconds at dinner (the burritos and guacamole couldn’t end at just one tortilla of rice and beans), and I’m carefully scheduling gym time so as to make it the four times I vowed I’d go this week.

We found a house and that has consumed all my time from approximately 3 o’clock on Sunday until the email and phone call I received from Bub at about 10ish o’clock this morning.

I found a house I could see us raising our babies in, having family visit us in, and me cleaning (yuck). But before we could think twice about it, numerous offers were made. We were left in the dust. Bub tried to prepare me.

They’ll be a hiatus from the open houses, with Easter on Sunday and me being in another country the week after. But I feel more prepared. We’ve got some details ironed out. I’ll be ready for the next whirlwind.

Bring it on.

Prego

Hi, I’m not.

But here’s how the past two days have turned out:

Yesterday

Co-worker: What are you doing?
Me: Working
Co-worker: Is it a secret?
Me: Sure
Co-worker: Are you pregnant?
Me: Yes
Co-worker: Really? Swear to God?
Me: Yes
Me: I’m going to hell.
Me: Even he knows. (pointing to another nosy co-worker)
Co-worker: Congratulations!
Me: I’m not pregnant.
Co-worker: But you swore to God.
Me: I know.
Me: Go away!

Today

(A different co-worker): Are you pregnant?
Me: Have you been talking to (fill in name of above co-worker)?
Co-worker: No.
Me: I’m not.
Co-worker: Well, I thought because of your shirt…
Me; Oh, yeah, I guess it’s flowy.
Co-worker: And you seem to have that bump.
Me; What??!
Co-worker: I mean, you could be 3 months along.
Me: WHAT????!
Me: How long have you thought I was pregnant?
Co-worker: About a month.
Me: Okay…
Co-worker: I’ve ruined your day–I’m sorry. Laughs.
Me: No, it’s okay. I know my belly needs work.
Co-worker: Maybe it’s muscle.
Me: Right.

***

Thanks! I feel great about my gut. Glad I work here, too.

Update

I’ve shared the horror story of today (see above) with others at the office. Mainly to share my shocked feelings, but to see if others think the same about me. I’ve been told I’m skinny and have a non-existant (someone even said concave) tummy. I’m not sure about that; I could put some butter on this one roll.

I’m also getting a lot of “How are you feeling? Don’t lift anything. Have you picked out names?” jokes. I’m suprisingly not too upset but I wonder if you all think I’m a real fatty now.

I would like to think I’m not, but hey, someone I work with thinks I have some exercising to do…