fat girl binging

Went to the Doc-In-A-Box today for my blood pressure check. Again, I failed. It was 132/88. That 88 will kill me some day. But it's no longer in the 90s. I guess I should be thankful.

He told me to eat better, lose weight and exercise. Duh? Is nobody there listening. I am eating better (not perfect, but better). And I am exercising. But all the walking, all the stairs, all the diet changes are doing squat for my blood pressure and it's really pissing me off. What more do I need to do?

Oh, yeah, lose weight.

That's a losing battle. I been fighting this beast for nearly 2 years and I've only lost 12 pounds and three dress sizes. Please don't tell me muscle weighs more than fat. That worked for the first six months. Not anymore. I guess regular meal times, proper portions, and me cooking all the time instead of letting my roomie do some of it would help. But at this point I doubt if anything will help. And it won't happen anytime soon. I have 97 million jobs. Eating at regular times and doing all the cooking is impossible.

The wanted to increase the medication. I said no. The goal is to get off the medication, not take more.

He wants me to take my blood pressure every morning and every night and keep a journal. I wanted to laugh out load. The stress of doing that would drive kill me. I offered once a week. He said that's not enough. Well it will have to do.

So I came home and ate my relatively healthy dinner (chicken, baked potato and roasted asparagus) and stewed. Answered a few emails and stewed some more. The Girl Scout cookies started to shout to me....dessert. So I ate them. And drank a Coke. And it helped, but didn't help.

Tomorrow is another day. I'll start over. Again.

I've mostly done stairs this week preparing for the stair climb at the end of the month. At NCC I park in a very remote lot, go to the classroom center and climb the stairs to the 4th floor and back down. At each landing I see the young, able-bodied, healthy students waiting for the very, very, very, slow elevator and wonder what the heck they are doing. At 54 I walk to the top and am heading down the stairs and the door hasn't even opened yet. Sometimes they are still waiting when I see them again on the way down. back in the dark ages, when I went to school there, I flew up the steps two at a time. I want to shout at them, look at me, you don't want to become me. But they're young. They won't listen.