belly

So I weighed myself this morning.  I'm down 1.4 lbs. in my first week of watching what I'm stuffing into my face.  I'm not necessarily unhappy with that number, but I'd have loved it to be 104 pounds.  However in a week that would probably mean loss of all my limbs which would lessen the yay factor significantly.  I decided to join Weight Watchers online today (thanks to Mama and Big Daddy Pants!) so I can have a little more structure than just counting calories.  I often rebel against too rigid a structure (see: Jenny Craig) but I've done WW before and I know the recipes alone will help me out tremendously.  So we'll see what next week brings.  I promise not to do a creepy "dualing Sarahs" commercial where I sing with myself in an ill-fitting pink dress.  And not just because my singing often sounds like cats in heat.

I keep snacks in a cabinet for my team at work.  I bagged up my boss's favourite chips early in the week so each baggie is 150 calories.  I also did it with the baked Cheetos.  And then I made up a calorie list and taped it to the inside of the cabinet--everything that's in the cabinet is listed.  We've got some runners on our team as well as calorie counters and they seem to like to know what they're putting in their mouths.  By kinda "catering" to them, I'm also helping myself along.  I'll use anything I can right now.

While I was doing all my treatments over the summer, the nurses were glad that I came in fat because they wouldn't have to worry about me wasting away to nothing.  We laughed about how I wasn't fat, I was prepared to fight cancer.  Well, now that I'm officially cancer-free, I'm back to just fat and that's not really okay anymore.  I know that cancer cells tend to be fat and sugar fed and I don't want to give them any more ammunition to come back.  The first two years seem to have the biggest relapse occurence but they measure me on a five year scale:  if I go five years without a recurrence, I'm considered "cured."  I'd like to achieve that and I know it's a lot more likely if I take better care of myself.  And hey--maybe I'll get laid again! 

I was examining my navel earlier this week (what, you don't?!) and it appeared that the piercing hole from when I was about 20 remained unsealed.  I haven't had jewelry in that piercing since the night before my surgery, August 4.  You probably can see where this is going.  (My mom is probably cringing.)  I grabbed an old ring and slipped it through--tada!  Okay, so the ring currenly in the hole is a gauge smaller than my original navel ring (which is actually in my rook piercing) but it's holding nicely.  A little tender and sore at times, but it's strangely comforting to have it back in.  I was going to just leave the piercing out, let it close, and move on--I have a scar that runs right up to the top hole and it's not especially attractive.  However, seeing the little flash of silver in my belly reminds me of my 20s, San Diego, and when my body was rockin, even if I didn't know it then.  So I'm leaving it in for now. 

not cool, kodak

Last week, we did the annual work meeting where they go over the previous year's numbers and all that hoopla.  They also split us up into teams and put each team into limos with cameras and a list of "scavenger hunt" type of situations to photograph.  Everyone jumping in the air (and airborn in the photo) at the same time--which was the hardest one to do, everyone on the same slide on a playground, that sort of thing.  It was fun, albeit rather hot.  None of the ACs in the limos worked very well (or at all, in our case) and it was 103 that day.  And then there are 9 of us on the team running around the city for two and a half hours trying to get all these wacky things accomplished. 

So I've already mused about how I feel having my photo taken.  I had to push that aside, as this was a work thing and I'm rather dependent on my paychecks.  I was a good sport.  We rotated the camera around the group and I only took two or three of the photos, all of which were at a church.  (I thought it was most appropriate that I not be pictured standing in front of a church, lest we all get struck by lightening.)  We turned our cameras in once we returned and we went through all the photos from all the teams after that.  Meaning, everyone saw everyone else's photos.  So the whole company saw photos of me that were taken under conditions that I had no control over--bad lighting, horrible angles, and just... ugh.

It also means that I saw those photos.

Wow. 

I'm a little surprised I haven't been impaled in a run-by harpooning by now.  It was a little shocking.  I mean, I see myself every day--I do what I can to make myself appear as small as possible, which isn't necessarily even near the boarder of "tiny" but apparently, I had no clue....  Those photographs were shocking to me.  Bad shock.  Bad.  F.  Horrible.  Not a good place.  I'm a week away from them now, and they're still seered into my brain and the mere flicker of thought to them can completely (and ironically) deflate my entire day.

Changes, bitches.  There are changes happening up in this house.