This morning's weigh-in: down 1.4 for a total of 26.6 lost. I've lost my cat... twice. (her dead weight feels like the whole 26 pounds, though) What I didn't understand, though, were the ladies just behind me who talked the entire way through the meeting, only to stop the leader every 5 minutes or so and bark, "Huh? What did you say again? Can you repeat that?" in nasally-toned New England-y accents. Why? Maybe they think they'll burn more calories with all that constant whiny talking. I don't know.
As motivated as I am to be in shape and lose weight, I am just not feeling the motivational vibes for school, and I only have one exam left to go. One. Tomorrow morning, for my super-hard Pharmacology & Pathophysiology course. We took some standardized, generalized, lobotomized testing last week - ATI tests for those of you in the know, supposedly to simulate the NCLEX experience - and I just found out I scored somewhere in the 10-40th percentile. Now, it was a hard test, I know, but you have to realize that I grew up as this test-taking wunderkind, scoring in the 99th percentile of, like, every freaking subject, even when I was making mediocre grades in high school but still managed to crank out an obscenely-high SAT score. So scoring in the 10-40th percentile in anything except perhaps my body weight, well... my whole world just got shaken. I know it's pathetic, my obsession with perfection even on the stupidest crap like a test that doesn't even count for a grade. The pharmacology part of the NCLEX is only a very small percentage, anyway. Or at least that's what they tell me. If I get to the actual test and the only questions I get are asking me about the contraindications of Depakote and the method of action of adrenergic antagonists, someone's gonna have to pay.
Tomorrow, after the exam, I get to be prettied up by my stylist, and then J and I set off for Sarasota to see his family. I have spent so very little time with his family that going to see them is like the first time, every time, and I start getting nervous and chatty and Avon-lady smiley in anticipation, forgetting that we've already broken bread together a handful of times and I have no reason to be uptight. And as far as in-laws go, I lucked out: no horror stories here. But I still get wigged out. We're bringing them gifts, and they're taking us out to a Sarasota phenomenon: Amish restaurants. I was so enthralled by the idea of an Amish restaurant: I imagined a large wooden house with no electricity, and you have to leave your car in the next block over and walk, or else come by horse and buggy, and you are served all sorts of amazingly hearty culinary delicacies by candlelight, served by women in frocks and austere hair arrangements. My friend Rachel, a Sarasota native, tells me that it's really more like going to Cracker Barrel, but I hold on to my other-world fantasy.
Oh, and the singing went well. No high-note-itis or glitches here, except for perhaps a small moment of amusement as I launched into the second verse and saw a small boy vigorously arm-farting his appreciation to me. Very reverent.
1 comment:
Are you going to Yoder's? That place is great! Have the pie!
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