1,361 Days 100 Days into this nightmare
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Short Shelf Lives for Short Attention Spans
The year is 1989, I am ten… It’s September, and school has been back in for roughly 4-5 weeks. It is still technically summer, so my brother and I are making good on having learned to cut grass and my granny soliciting our services. In late-80s money, this is still only $10 a yard to split between us and cover supplies, but it is money. To 5 th graders, a few yards on a Saturday is AMAZING money, plenty enough for candy and soda until the following weekend. Established here is that we were kind of getting our own money and as word spread about the neighborhood, we had plenty of clientele. More than candy and sodas from the store without being beholden to my mom’s “we’ll see” (<-- 2="" a="" about="" and="" be="" before="" could="" i="" it="" later="" learn="" left="" ll="" maybe="" more="" nbsp="" nice=&
True Story© The Roller Coaster
My life is a weird set of ups and downs… For the sake of that sentence, by “my life,” I mean “my weight.” I seem to be on this odd cycle where I will decide to get to it and lose several pounds, then something catastrophic will happen and I stop even bothering for a couple of years and gain the whole 50 back. My last “gain” phase almost took me to the upper room. Apparently putting on this time sent my blood pressure to a level that my then-current medication regimen wasn’t on board with and, then a bout of bronchitis made it all worst and next thing you know I am speaking to a cardiologist trying to convince me to spend a weekend in the hospital due to congestive heart failure. I was 306 pounds that morning, 35ish more than expected walking in and a full 55 more than my “norm.” I was mobile enough to get to and from my car, care for my kid and not miss a minute of work, so the man couldn’t FORCE me to the ER. He did change up my meds aggressively to get the fluid off