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I would like a do-over on today, please.
I woke up for the first time today at 5:20 a.m. The first thing I consciously knew was that the shower was running. I looked at the clock, took in the time and thought, �why is my mom in the shower so early?� Then I realized I was in the apartment, not at my mom�s, and it was Chris who was in the shower. I closed my eyes again.
5:27 a.m. My alarm went off. I looked at it, rolled over and dozed again, thinking, �I can stay in bed for 20 more minutes.� In the middle of a now-murky dream, Steve, my real-life friend and dream companion, told me that they�d found Samantha Runnion�s body. Apparently, I wasn�t too deeply asleep.
6:14 a.m. I turned on the news to watch the weather.
7:27 a.m. I made myself get out of bed. I�d hit the point where it was either that or call in sick, and I need that time for the honeymoon.
8:02 a.m I left the house, bound for the bus, wishing I could just stay home and watch the Harrison Ford interview on the Today show. Not because I love Harrison Ford so much, but because it was preferable to coming to work.
8:57 a.m. I arrived at the hospital. The bus spent most of my ride trapped behind a street sweeper. When we pulled up to my stop, I had only 14 clues left in the Metro�s crossword�most of the lower right corner. It was a LONG ride today.
The first thing I said to Ann when I came through the door was that I wanted a do-over. She laughed.
It�s gone downhill from there. I feel like I accomplished nothing all day, but that�s mostly because I spent the majority of my time putting out other people�s stupid little fires.
I hate people right now. Mostly just the ones that work here. Mostly.
Last night, before I went to bed, I stood naked in front of my mirror, surveying the situation. See, since I started taking the Zoloft, my appetite has mostly disappeared, and my water intake (to counteract the dry mouth) has gone way up. As a result, my pants are fitting a little looser these days. Two weeks of no snacks and pretty much just water to drink has been a good thing.
I wanted to see if it was a visible difference. Hence the in-front-of-the-mirror-with-no-clothes thing. I haven�t gone over the deep end and become Kerry Russel, who apparently has a whole room of mirrors in front of which she stands naked for the entertainment/ego boost value.
You know what I found? Space between my thighs. Actual air. Visible space. I tried on my bathing suit. It fit, without the strange bulges that had appeared of late at the sides.
How did I celebrate this, boys and girls? If you guessed by drinking extra water and eating healthily, you�re so wrong. If you guessed by eating an entire sleeve of Lorna Doone cookies, you�ve been reading this diary for a long time and know me all too well.
Yep. Now I want to throw up. Not in a bulimic, make myself not digest the calories and fat sort of way, but in an oh my god, I feel so sick sort of way.
SO not a good idea.
Really.
I don�t recommend it.
I blame the PMS.
Does it make it any better to admit that the cookies were actually my lunch?
No?
I didn�t think so.
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