So, as it turns out, there is no instant slimification. And apparently I have an internist with the worst patient rapport I have ever seen.
Dr. Abrupt: Your BMI is within normal...
Me: Yes, but at the high end. I checked it. And, also, I just don't feel good about the way I look.
Dr. Abrupt: Well, you have to come to terms with the fact that this may be YOU. YOU at 30-something years old after 2 kids. This is you and your body.
Me: OK. Well, what if I want to make ME skinnier?
Dr. A: At your height and weight, you should eat approximately 1200-1300calories to lose weight.
Me: per DAY? (I'm thinking, per meal?)
Dr. A: Yes, but I don't advise because your BMI is....
Me: Normal.
Yeah, it would be the only thing about me that is.
Also, in the news yesterday:
After days (possibly weeks, it feels like weeks) I let S paint. I have never been opposed to messy craft projects as long as they were cleaned after. In fact, I used to let E paint in our shower in our bathroom so we could just turn on the water, add soap, play in colored bubbles and rinse it up. Fun, right? I'm a fun mom, godammit.
But everything is different with S. First, there was the issue of the paper. He insisted the 5 BIG sheets I brought were not enough. I had some more on standby. Second, there was the issue of the color. I had only green, orange, red, blue and yellow. I tried to explain that with these colors, he could achieve any color of his imagination, but he was unimpressed with the facts of primary colors. Then, there was the painting itself. Within 2 minutes, all the paper had a splatter pattern that would have impressed the techs at CSI. Then, came the globules. Just dripping. Big, fat drops that occasionally hit the paper. Mostly, the sidewalk.
Finger painting? Try whole body painting. I went inside for paper towelling (I had a sense...) and when I came out, there he was, nude. Squatting over his work like an obsessed nude Jackson Pollock. COVERED in paint. Really. Covered. I got the hose. I set the nozzle down, went back to turn on the spigot. I returned. Water. EVERYWHERE. He had picked up the nozzle, and wet his artwork, his body, the paints.
Well, an excuse for clean up. I dunked him in the pool. Hosed off the porch. Left the treasures to dry.
I survived another art project. Barely.
You do realize that story strikes childless people as ridiculously cute, don't you?
ReplyDeleteI agree with Bradley. The painting was funny. And the nude/full-body painting was hysterical. S doesn't really like clothes, does he?
ReplyDeleteAnd you need a different internist. "Just accept it" is a pretty ridiculous answer (not that you need to lose weight, but that's a terrible response).