I let myself do whatever I wanted this past week. Beer followed by margaritas? Sure. Another slice of pizza? Yes, please. Lots of tapas involving bacon in various forms? But of course.
And last night, the tapas/sangria/gin and tonic with the girls night, I finally felt kind of normal again. I was able to talk about what happened without crying, and I could then leave that topic and not think about it again until I got home. Yes, the liter of sangria (shared) and two gin & tonics (get your grubby paws off my booze) were probably equally responsible, but that's fine with me.
Today is the start of looking forward. As of this morning, I'm on a weight loss plan (to lose those stupid 7 pounds I gained through the IVF and pregnancy) which consists of eating smaller portions of my normal fare, adding a few more vegetables to the mix, and going to the gym.
Ah, the gym. I haven't been there in three long months. Don't get me wrong, I'm a rather slothful person, but over the past few years I have really come to love going to the gym. After an hour on the elliptical machine at a medium pace, I sink into the fluffy joy of my bed and sleep the whole night through. I haven't done that in three long months, either.
And I had a telephone appointment with Dr this morning. He'll OK our next try as soon as my hCG gets back to zero. It was at 1247 yesterday. Two to four weeks.
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