Add to the mix the fact that I've lost almost 140 pounds in the last year, and am struggling to figure out why this has changed some aspects of my personality, and left others exactly where they've always been. I feel "younger" and a little more "part of the world" than I did for the last 20 years. But I have to stop and think about how weirded-out I'd be if Frances started wanting to go out with friends every weekend, or listening to hip-hop, or using language that'd make a sailor blush. I'd be angry. And even at my advanced age, I'd want her to get back in the Mom Box. That's where she's always been, damnit, and that's who she is to me. (Speaking of Frances, she saw an orthopedic surgeon yesterday, and will have her knee replacement surgery sometime in the next six weeks. She'll learn the exact date in the next week or so.)
And then I always seem to be adding the cherry on top: I can't stop with the advice-giving. My kids are adults. I raised them well. They don't want -- or need -- the constant hints and tips on "How To Live Your Best Life".
Gaaaaah. I'm hopeless. I'm really sorry yesterday was so crappy, Em. I won't stop trying.
I need to start doing my homework so I can finally pass this class.
Amy, my primary care doc is a disappointment, in every way.
I keep saying I'm going to find a new one, but let's not forget: I'm the Queen Of Procrastination in all things. Anyway, he's basically useless with the medical stuff ... one of the reasons it's been over a year since I've even been to his office. The last time I did see him, he was sending me to Weight Watchers, and trying different anti-depressants, so I thought he'd be blown away by my weight loss.
I should have known. He played it very cool, telling me I looked good, in his monotone-doctor-voice ... AFTER I told him I'd had weight loss surgery. I guess, in hindsight, it wouldn't have been very professional of him to come in and say, "JESUS! You lost weight!", like I wanted him to do. Heh.
He asked how I liked my surgeon, saying he had several patients who needed the surgery, but he didn't know about any of the surgeons around here. WHA??? I mean, you're a physician in an area that has THREE surgeons who do this type of surgery. If you had patients who "need it", why wouldn't you take an hour or two and FIND THE FUCK OUT??!! (There I go with the non-Mom language. Sorry.)
He was nice, but he lived up to his reputation of "useless". I couldn't even count on him for a little excited reaction to my weight loss. Maybe he feels the same way my husband does: "Hey, isn't that what the surgery was SUPPOSED to do??!!"
Finally: Whew. Blake and his beatbox survived to sing another week.