Start wearing purple for me now.

Ladies and gentlemen, cast number two:

Yup, a big, purple fibreglass cast. This one stays on for the next 4 weeks, then I'll probably be moving into the air cast thing. That thing rules because it's removable. I dream of such things right now.

So, I have a big 6-7 inch incision, and I'm told I have 6 screws and a plate in there. I'm going to order a disc of my x-rays next time so I can gross everyone I know out. Isn't that what facebook is for?

I think I might have lost a bit of weight. I neglected to wear a belt today and the whole time my pants were hanging off my ass. Thank god I wore decent underwear.

So yeah, that's wednesday's funsies. Time for lunch and a nap. I thought I only turned 35 on Sunday, but apparently I turned 80. Oh well.

xo
lb

Driven to distraction.

So bored. SO very bored.

yes, I'm knitting and watching movies, but this whole orthopedic lock-up jazz has got me a bit down. I have a hankerin' to go for a walk or a swim or something. No freaking dice.

I'm blogging because I'm procrastinating. Pathetic, really, since I have all of TWO things I should be doing right now. One is getting the garbage together so my landlord can put it on the curb tonight and the other is shaving my leg. Yup, just one leg. But can I be motivated to do either of those things? No sir!

Instead I'm posting a blog instead of putting myself through the torture that is All My Children (seriously, could that show be any shittier and low budget?!?).

My weight remains a complete mystery to me since I can't physically weigh in. I've been eating pretty right-on, so I can't be too far off the mark. Ho hum.

Alright, so best laid plan avoidance gone to waste, my ankle is all swollen up due to the humidity around here (but I love this weather anyway) so off I go to balance precariously on one foot while I get shit done.

peace oot
LB

'Allo mate, 'ow ya keepin'?

See above for the reason I haven't been around much. That big white thing is cast #1 after having my ankle fused last monday. It's awkward and non-stylish, but it does a great job of containing my wounded paw.

Dude, not gonna lie, this shit HURTS. Being upright, defined as doing anything that doesn't have my leg elevated above my heart, causes the worst kind of cartoon Wile E. Coyote foot in the world, and gives me what I think is the equivalent to being pounded on the shin with a huge wooden mallet (you know, Kathy Bates in Misery style).

Apparently, the surgery went well, but I won't know much more until I head back to bone doctor's for my first follow-up appointment next week. That's when I finally get to find out what kind of hardware I'm packing these days. It's been 7 years since I sported 12 pins and a big plate in that ankle.

So yeah, I am doing my best to write when I can (note that it's 2:43 on a sunday morning, and the drugs are wearing off too early), but I'm here. I swear. And I'm eating, but staying on the rails.

I'll be back, most likely at some ungodly hour.

xo
lb

Strange Days, Indeed.

Not being at my meeting yesterday morning was weird, and something I didn't enjoy. It's the thing that I do on Saturdays, it's the one thing I always really look forward to. I didn't bother stepping on the scale yesterday here at home, because what my weight reads is probably the furthest thing from my mind right now (for real).

Tomorrow is my surgery and let me tell you: I'm fucking shitting bricks over here. I have to spend the rest of my day getting this pig sty sorted out so that I can be an invalid all summer. It's almost there, but I've been living in that state of moving crap, where everything you own is everywhere and nothing can move until everything moves.

I am stressed out TO. THE. MAX. The fear of what's happening to me tomorrow is totally kicking my ass. My pride and vanity are taking the brunt of it, since I really hate asking for help and will be losing something like a half inch of height off my right leg thanks to the ankle joint that's going bye-bye. I just have to breathe deep, roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation and keeeep going.

I'll catch you dudes on the flip side. I'm on my ass for three months, there will definitely be blogging involved.

xo
lb

Downtown Debbie Downer

The two focal points of my daily/weekly schedule are now on hold. Yesterday was my last day of work and this morning was my last weigh-in until August.

Not gonna lie, I'm bummed. And scared. Very very scared.

A week from Monday I go under the knife and then proceed to sit for the following three months. Not going to work every day and not going to my meeting every week is going to be rough because I will miss a lot of people that I like interacting with on a frequent basis.

Recovery will mean a lot of time alone, sat on my ass. The appeal of this will wear off in the first few days, I can almost guarantee. It seems strange to some, but a lot of fat chicks (and fat guys, too) aren't the sedentary sloths they are made out to be by the media and stereotypes. I, for one, do not sit around eating bon bons and shitty food while watching shitty tv night after night. I don't snack after dinner is over, and I'm not afraid of physical activity early in the morning (Dear YMCA, I miss you. Love, Lesley). Even with my stupid ankle problems, I still walked to and from work every day (except for one morning when I was seriously behind schedule). Half the time I needed my cane to do it, but I still did that 20 minute hike twice a day. Yes, it hurt, but goddamn it, I needed it. I miss my early morning workouts and can't wait until I can get in the pool again. And I will so miss my two walks a day while I heal up.

I am curious to see how the whole weight thing plays out while I'm down. It will be a pretty strictly controlled food schedule and since someone else will be doing my shopping for me, it's all public. I think this will be a good thing, because goddamn, that's accountability right there. My dad isn't about to load me up with shit food and turn a blind eye. No way.

The real kicker (no pun intended) is that I will have no idea what's happening numbers-wise. Thanks to zero weight tolerance and a huge cast on my leg, I won't physically be able to stand on the scale. I'll only have an idea by the way I'm feeling (and if you know anything about me, you'll know that's absolutely no help because I totally suck at interpreting my lose/gain situation week to week).

So, here we go. Off the books and onto healing and recovery next week. This should be a good read for all you regulars, because you'll be able to chart my descent into Colonel Kurtz madness. And when I get hauled off to jail for pinging off asshole cyclists riding on the sidewalk with my sling shot, you can shake your head and mutter with complete confidence "I totally saw that coming."

peace oot
LB