Want To Be My Buddy?

Lately it feels as if I am spending the majority of my waking hours either preparing for a doctor's visit, sitting in his (or her) office, or decompressing afterwards. Between the boys, Scott's extensive dental issues and my own medical needs, I am sitting in a waiting room several times a week. Timmy, normally happy and ready for an adventure, has begun to fuss and cry as soon as we walk into the reception area.

Yesterday it was my turn to sit on the examination table. I was called into the office to investigate some variations in my recent blood work. Although he was disgruntled and tired, amusing Timmy was not the most frustrating experience during my appointment, nor was the  blood draw before I left the office. For me, having a needle jammed into my arm is not nearly as angst-ridden as stepping on the scale.

I can't say that I was shocked that I've gained some weight. I may be denial expert, but even I recognized that my pants were tight. I guess I was just surprised the number that was staring me down. I wanted to break down and cry, but I chose a different approach. Without giving it much thought, I broached my weight with my doctor.

I was proud of  myself for admitting to the doctor that I needed to and wanted to lose weight. For some reason, I have always felt that a desire to lose weight is a taboo topic. Ironic, because weight is definitely one issue that is impossible to mask. By telling the doctor that I wanted to lose weight, I feel like I took the first step towards a healthier life. Wish me luck, and feel free to email/FB/Tweet (@amputeemommy) me if you want a weight loss buddy. I don't really want to do this alone.