In the Interest of Avoiding the Topic of Surgery. . . Some Shameless Bragging
When I joined the gym back in the middle of October, you may recall that they measured my body fat percentage. I expected the worst, and it wasn't so bad. It came in at 21.6%, somewhere between "excellent" and "good."
I've been stepping on the scale every week or so and the numbers have stayed pretty much the same. They've fluctuated by a pound or two depending on how many cookies I ate over the holidays but I wasn't worried about not losing weight. That was never my intention. I just wanted to strengthen and tone.
So, I met with my trainer last night for the last time before surgery on Wednesday, and the body fat measuring thing was on the counter near where I was working out.
"Mind if I use this?" I asked him.
"No girl," he said as he filled in the info like weight and age and handed it over.
After a couple seconds, which felt like an eternity, the number popped up.
18.1% with a body mass index of 20.1.
My trainer flipped open his little book, found my age and traced his finger across. "Excellent" is 19.3.
18.1 people. 18.1.
This proves what I've known all along. I may not be losing weight, but I am definitely losing fat and replacing it with some serious muscle. Seeing progress like that is such a motivator. My goal is to return to working out as soon as I get my stitches out on January 14th and to return to karate the week of my birthday which is February 7th (I'll be turning 29 again, just in case you were curious).
And just so we're clear, even if I have to plan it myself, there will be a party.
Be Careful What You Search For
The computer doctor says my laptop will be ready for redeployment tomorrow. He said my computer was loaded with spyware, adware, etc. and that Norton is to blame. Apparently my anti-virus software isn't very anti anything except doing what it's supposed to do, keep my computer safe. The computer man says he's putting some fabulous anti-virus software program on my computer and that should do the trick. Here's hoping.
I am usually really careful about where I go on the internet, but while shopping for Mr. BBM for Christmas, I made a terrible blunder and I wonder if that's why my computer decided it needed a visit to the sick bay.
I was researching medicine balls and trying to find the best deals. We have a Dick's Sporting Goods store locally and so instead of running out to the store, I wanted to look up what they had first. I don't know about you, but I don't call the store "Dick's Sporting Goods." I call it by its first name like I do with anything or anyone familiar. And that's just what I typed in: insertfirstnamehere dot com. You get it? Good, because I'm not saying it.
Anyway, Dick's is not only the name of a sporting goods store. It's also a nickname for a certain male body part and let's just say that my eyes began to burn when the resulting website popped up. I'm sort of prudish like that. I don't recommend you do this because your computer may suffer the same unfortunate fate.
When Mr. BBM was getting ready to take my computer, I started rubbing my forehead. "Oh man, I hope he doesn't look at the websites where I've been."
"Why?" Mr. BBM asked and then I told him about my unfortunate encounter with the naughty site. He felt it necessary to tell the computer doctor and the guy laughed and said, "You wouldn't believe how many people do that!"
Here is one girl who won't be doing that again.
The Day the Laptop Died
January 1, 2009: clearly one of the worst days of my life. I woke up after a craptastic New Years Eve and tried to log on to my computer. Some awful message came up that said something like "dumping memory" and "bad hard disk" and "can not restart" and I felt my blood pressure rising.
I have my entire life on my computer. I have pictures, documents, all my teaching materials, all those things I swear I'll try to publish someday. . . everything.
I spent the entire morning starting and restarting and freaking out. Then I just gave up and realized that while an IPOD touch is pretty fantastic, it doesn't cut it when it comes to general internet usage.
I felt like Carrie in "Sex in the City." I wanted to wrap it up in a fluffy blanket and cuddle with it, tell it everything will be o.k. Instead, Mr. BBM went to work on it. He made it make some horrible beeping sounds and shook his head a bunch of times. He did, however, manage, to get most of my stuff onto an external hard drive. Still not that comforting when I'm about to have surgery and want my laptop to be my bedside companion for the first day or two.
So this morning, Mr. BBM packed up my baby and took it to a man who says he can fix it. Please Mr. Computerman, fix it. I beg of you.
On a completely different and unrelated note and a much more serious matter, Renovation Girl'sDad is back in the ICU and she and he need prayers pronto. Please go visit her and send her some internet love. She's my best friend and she needs it.
Internal Dramalogue
This morning I was talking on the phone with my Mom when my Dad had a little outburst. He went from perfectly quiet to "Damn woman, why do you have so many towels?"
He was folding laundry for my Mom.
He then went on this whole conservation lecture kick, telling her that she uses too many towels (dish rags, drying towels, cleaning rags) and socks (work socks, work-out socks, etc.). So much for saving the world by not using paper towels to clean.
"I don't know what his problem is," my Mom said laughing.
This type of outburst is not unusual for my Dad. He can spend 15 minutes not saying anything and then completely freak out. I've just learned to expect this type of behavior from him.
"You know what's wrong with him?" I said. "He has these internal conversations in his head like this: 'I'm a big bad man. Why am I folding laundry? Why am I folding all these towels? Why are there so many damn socks? What does this woman do, use 15 towels and four pairs of socks a day?'"
And then it's all too much and he says something like, "Damn woman, why do you have so many towels?" I told my Mom he's having an internal debate, a dramalogue if you will, with himself. She lost it, and we were completely cracking up because it is so obviously what he does.
"Your daughter has you all figured out," she told him laughing.
Earlier in the conversation we had been talking about my grandfather. He got a bill in the mail today and instead of calling because he had a question about it, he got in his car and drove there. It's New Years Eve. I'm betting no one is even there. We were talking about how stubborn he can be and my Mom went on to say that if anything ever happens to my grandmother, she'd probably have to take my Pop-Pop in and she thinks she would go nuts.
"Remember what you said about your dad?" I asked her. "Ditto that for me," I told her.
They both must have been put on this Earth to provide humor for the women in their lives. It's the only explanation.
Getting Nervous
Yesterday the surgery center called me to do my pre-op interview. She asked me all kinds of questions that were easy to answer until she asked, "What's your pain tolerance like?"
"I don't know how to answer that," I said. "I had natural child birth twice and that was fine. ACL reconstruction surgery, however, was a completely different story."
"I'll just put 'I don't know' down," she said.
She then went on to tell me that she doesn't want me to be in pain so I should let them know if I'm in any pain after the surgery next week. She doesn't need to worry about that.
She also said I should bring along my crutches. I do not want to be on crutches again and the whole thought of all of this stuff is bringing back bad memories from last year. I want it over with in the worst way, and logically, I know that I'll be better afterwards. But I am ACL traumatized and the dread that is beginning to envelope me is a feeling I wish wasn't so familiar.
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