So, I had my annual physical this week. I’d promised an update on how it went…and then went dark for three weeks. LOL
I don’t think that was intentional….but I find I move to silent mode when I’m working stuff out in my head. Which usually means I should be writing to deal with whatever’s bugging me.
Anyway…it’s a holiday weekend, so I have a little extra time and no excuses. So, here’s how the physical went:
I dutifully reported to my scheduled appointment at the pre-assigned time. And, as is custom in the US, the nurse marched me right to the scale (why is this the very first thing they have you do? You could be there for an infected freaking hangnail, and before they even check your blood pressure, you gotta weigh in. Proceed to the scale, directly to the scale, do not pass GO nor collect $200.)
She weighed me, and then checked my height. (And let me just toss a suggestion out there for all of you medical professionals – if you weigh me with shoes on, it only seems fair that I get to have my height measured with shoes, too. Either make me kick ’em off at the get-go, or you’re buying in to my magical growth spurt. Deal?) I was glad to see I haven’t started shrinking (lengthwise, anyway) as of yet – that’s gotta be a good sign that my bones aren’t crumbling.
“Do you have any concerns you want to discuss today?”
Not really. But…I promised.
“My husband is worried about my weight.”
As she took my blood pressure, I answered some routine questions, and then was instructed to don the
tablecloth robe on the exam table behind me. After casting my clothes into a neat little pile, (being careful to hide my underwear underneath my pants – because although the doctor is going to thoroughly inspect my undercarriage, I’d hate to have her realize that I wear thongs, oh the horror) I sat and waited.
The doctor arrived after a short time, and opened with “You have lost a lot of weight.” (Well, good morning to you, too, ma’am. Sheesh.)
“Yes…my spouse is kind of worried about that. He thinks I’m too thin and I didn’t think it was a bad idea to get checked out.”
Ask she palpitated and prodded, she asked about the standard things. Exercise? Moderate. Appetite? Low-ish. Energy? Mostly decent, honestly. Bowels? Meh, could be better, I suppose. My stomach has never been my BFF, but lately it’s been throwing some temper tantrums, so maybe let’s make a note.
Anything else? “Well, I do seem to bruise pretty easily….” I showed her the impressive palette of purples and browns dotting my legs and arms. I pointed out a couple of swollen lymph nodes I’d found, too, just for good measure.
“Well, everything really does look good here. Let’s run a few tests and see where we go from there.”
She put in the order for the lab to take approximately 147 vials of blood (bonus points for being thorough?) and a quick CT scan to look at my insides, and that was that.
After a few days, all of the tests came back.
And the verdict: <drum roll, please>
I am perfectly healthy.
My scan showed that my insides are 100% unremarkable. My cholesterol, A1C, CBC, TSH, WTFBBQ, and whatever other things they tested are all pristine. My inner Chandler Bing asks, could I be any healthier? Apparently…no.
So…there’s absolutely no reason I need to gain weight now. Right? The bell has tolled, the alarm has rung, I am in the clear. A+ for health; here’s your license to proceed.
But when I shared this news with the hubs, he didn’t seem…convinced. Which is weird to me…and maaaaaaaaybe a little hypocritical. I mean, when he wants to tear down any type of religion, he’s quick to whip out supporting science facts. But now, when his “sincerely held belief” is that I’m too thin and in danger, he insists on clinging to that belief despite hard medical facts to the contrary.
Sweet, sweet, calorie-free irony.
And here’s another thing – and this is HUGE.
For the first time in my life, I’m actually reasonably comfortable in my own skin.
I like being at this weight.
I like having loose clothes and wearing the smallest size I can find.
Admittedly, I do not love this extra skin I have. I’ve always had stretch marks, but now the backs of my thighs are melting, and I suspect if I get cold, I could give myself a hearty yank upwards on the shoulders and create my own self-skin hoodie.
But once I’m dressed, I don’t cringe when I look in the mirror.
I’ve got confidence I’ve never had, and I can’t believe this is my body right now.
And it doesn’t look like I have any immediate reason to change it.
Well…other than the hubs just doesn’t…like how it looks? (Which sounds like a him problem and not a me problem.)
And the medical evidence is proof that he is overreacting. I did snap some pics of myself, just for perspective. There is no denying that I am not fat – but truthfully, I think I look…well…normal. Thin, but if you saw me walking down the street, you wouldn’t stab me with an IV drip and force-feed me a sandwich.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted a fashion/shopping post, so I should mention that the brown dress above I scored for FIVE DOLLARS brand new. Go me! The jeans and skirt were thrifted, as well. (I love thrift shops. Fast fashion isn’t great for the planet, but selfishly, I’m primarily into it for the savings. I’m told those jeans retail for $200, and I know the skirt’s original price tag was $128, because it was still attached when I bought it. I got the jeans for under $20 and the skirt for $7.)
Shoes are a little harder to find in good used condition (and while I’m not a germaphobe, I’m admittedly a little less enthused about sharing toe sweat with a stranger.) But since I had a birthday recently, I decided to treat myself to these beauties from DSW:
And I finally FINALLY (!!) found a pair of black summer shoes. I’d been looking to replace some cheap cage sandals; all I wanted was a platform, block heel (no spikes, because falling down kind of sucks, and no wedges, because I just don’t like them), closed-toe summer shoe, which apparently is the purple squirrel of the footwear world. But after searching high and low, I found these beauties from Lucky Lou Shoes, and I am OBSESSED. The heel is a carved heart with a sword, and so gorgeous it’s almost criminal. And don’t let the height scare you – with the platform, these are stupid comfortable. Really.
Anyway. Regarding the subject at hand here…I don’t know exactly where this all leaves me. It sure sounds like if I can maintain my weight right here, I’ll be just fine. So for now, I suppose that will do. Equipped with my new-to-me thrift-store duds and some fabulous shoes, I guess I just keep on strutting.
Have a safe and happy 4th of July, everyone! <shoots sparkly fireworks>