(no subject)
Time for Coast to Coast AM! Gotta hear his take on the botched Armageddon prophecy.
I gotta bitch for just a second. I finally decided to get a PCP doctor. I had an appointment the other day, and they took me into get weighed first. Now, let me preface this by saying I know I am a chunky girl. I got me some flab, and I know I have "let myself go." And while I'm not big on placing the blame on other things, I know my depression/anxiety has a lot to do with my weight gain. When I went into the hospital this past February, I fell of the tracks a bit. I'm trying my damnedest to get back on track, and straighten my life out. Anyway, the scale yelled at me, telling me I was a plump 202 lbs. Oy vey. I knew I gained some weight, but fuck. I don't even think I look THAT big. I wanted to discuss my weight with my doctor. When I brought this up?
"Well, you need to exercise more."
Oh. I started to explain that I walk the dog every day. He said that wasn't enough, then proceeded to boast to me about how he gets up at 4AM every day to keep in shape. I told him that I go to the gym as much as possible, but that things slowed down when I went into the hospital. He told me that all kinds of things could happen which could get in the way, and people come up with excuses. I told him I understood this, and was trying extremely hard not to cry right then and there. First off, he has not idea how long I walk the dog. Our walks can be anywhere from an half hour to an hour. There's a lot of hills in my area, which I hate, and are a huge part of our walk. Second, he obviously has no idea how depression works. He has my files. He knows what went on in the hospital. There are days I struggle to get out of bed, and hate myself just enough to think about ending it all. I don't think it is fair to tell me that I am making up excuses. I know what I need to do. I've been doing it. I got sick. No sympathy. No pointers. I certainly was not asking for pity, but I was hoping for some understanding. That really dragged me down. I came home, and was so emotionally spent. I ended up sleeping for a few hours because I was so depressed. It took a lot of will for me to drag myself out of bed to walk the dog, and that was only because I knew he had to get walked. I did it for him. It was such an oversimplification of what was going on. He didn't take into account any of my other issues. Maybe I should find a new PCP.
All I gotta say is thank God for Devildriver. If anything, I got me some good exercise at that show. My neck also hurts from headbanging. But I was complimented on my headbanging skills, and on my boots. So, there's that. Maybe my exercise regime should just consist of more metal shows.
xXx
I gotta bitch for just a second. I finally decided to get a PCP doctor. I had an appointment the other day, and they took me into get weighed first. Now, let me preface this by saying I know I am a chunky girl. I got me some flab, and I know I have "let myself go." And while I'm not big on placing the blame on other things, I know my depression/anxiety has a lot to do with my weight gain. When I went into the hospital this past February, I fell of the tracks a bit. I'm trying my damnedest to get back on track, and straighten my life out. Anyway, the scale yelled at me, telling me I was a plump 202 lbs. Oy vey. I knew I gained some weight, but fuck. I don't even think I look THAT big. I wanted to discuss my weight with my doctor. When I brought this up?
"Well, you need to exercise more."
Oh. I started to explain that I walk the dog every day. He said that wasn't enough, then proceeded to boast to me about how he gets up at 4AM every day to keep in shape. I told him that I go to the gym as much as possible, but that things slowed down when I went into the hospital. He told me that all kinds of things could happen which could get in the way, and people come up with excuses. I told him I understood this, and was trying extremely hard not to cry right then and there. First off, he has not idea how long I walk the dog. Our walks can be anywhere from an half hour to an hour. There's a lot of hills in my area, which I hate, and are a huge part of our walk. Second, he obviously has no idea how depression works. He has my files. He knows what went on in the hospital. There are days I struggle to get out of bed, and hate myself just enough to think about ending it all. I don't think it is fair to tell me that I am making up excuses. I know what I need to do. I've been doing it. I got sick. No sympathy. No pointers. I certainly was not asking for pity, but I was hoping for some understanding. That really dragged me down. I came home, and was so emotionally spent. I ended up sleeping for a few hours because I was so depressed. It took a lot of will for me to drag myself out of bed to walk the dog, and that was only because I knew he had to get walked. I did it for him. It was such an oversimplification of what was going on. He didn't take into account any of my other issues. Maybe I should find a new PCP.
All I gotta say is thank God for Devildriver. If anything, I got me some good exercise at that show. My neck also hurts from headbanging. But I was complimented on my headbanging skills, and on my boots. So, there's that. Maybe my exercise regime should just consist of more metal shows.
xXx