oh my god, I'm an optimist!

2002-01-16

You know in the original Star Trek series how Scotty would always overestimate the amount of time it would take to repair things? Because he wanted to look like he was miraculously finishing way ahead of schedule? My new doctor pulled a Scotty when she prescribed the Metrogel. She told me it would take 6-8 weeks for me to see any results, but already, after only 2 � weeks, my skin looks better than it has in months and months. I think she was purposely overestimating when she said 6-8 weeks, so that I would be more patient. I feel a little patronized by that, but I'm happy about my skin so I don't really care.

Today I realized something that blew me away. I'm an optimist! I've always thought of myself as a pessimist, particularly since I generally expect the worst from people, but today I realized that when things don't go my way, I am always quick to figure out the advantages of the unexpected situation. Case in point, I've been trying not to think about my upcoming doctor appt (Friday morning), but I haven't succeeded very well. And I've been doing that thing where you hope for the best but expect the worst, because that's kind of my M.O. My mind has jumped ahead Several steps in the 'expect the worst' scenario, all the way to "what if I need a mastectomy?" Do you see how I've been obsessing? I felt upset about that possibility for awhile, but then today I thought that really, I'm kind of tired of hauling these tits around anyway. They are large and ungainly, and it wouldn't be the end of the world if they had to be relocated. I've worn a bra since 4th grade, and I can only imagine that it would be nice not to have to wear one. I could buy a mastectomy bra with the breasts built in, and that way I could have the option to have breasts or not--I don't have that option now. And I could run without all that jiggling and I could sleep on my stomach comfortably, and I could get tattoos to cover the scars so I wouldn't feel disfigured. So I'm thinking of the good things that would come about from not having breasts, and that's when it occurred to me that, holy shit, I'm not a pessimist after all. Because I Always think of the good things about every bad situation, so I must be an optimist. Right? Crazy.

I'm still worried though, and the jungle drums are beating faster and faster the closer it gets to Friday. Probably all this worry is for nothing and I will have spent valuable time worrying and expressing all my angst and fear in my diary for no reason. If that turns out to be the case, I will feel like a real boob. Ha Ha--boob; get it?! Boob? Ha ha ha, hahahahahahahahaha! Oh never mind.

Last night I read about half of the Body for Life book, and this morning I had set my alarm to get up early for the gym, but when the alarm went off I thought, "Why bother? I'm not ready to start the Challenge, and my current routine is all wrong anyway." Instead of going to the gym I got up and went into the living room and read more of the book. After about 45 minutes I was really cold so I got back into bed and shivered for awhile. I'm definitely going to do the Challenge, but I don't think Francisco will be doing it with me. He thinks he has too much going on to get involved with that, and he does have a lot going on, but I was disappointed that he won't be doing it with me. I got over it quickly though; just my optimistic nature. Crazy.

Last night after dinner and dishes, Boy and I resumed our Mille Bournes game. He won the first two, during which he kept changing the rules on me until I got annoyed, and then to placate me he told me that the third game would be winner take all; the grand championship of the night. I won the third game, and he expressed regret at having said that the winner would be the grand champion; he's a funny boy. I didn't gloat though, not even a little. Tonight I'm going to win all three games; I will crush him like a bug. No, not really. He'll definitely crush me, because he's got the luck of the Irish.

Going home now-have a great night!

Love,

E

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cats-kittens

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