Yesterday I started the day posting on Facebook that I was happy it was Friday and was glad it was payday and furthermore, I was thankful for my job. This much positive energy, first thing in the morning, it's not a good idea. It threw my whole day off. I will not make that mistake again. Nothing good can come from that type of behavior.
The first part of my day seemed to go off innocently enough. I made it to the gym on my lunch and worked out with Ass Kicker. He showed me a new exercise and then said, "do that over and over until you hate me." I got to the second rep and declared, "I'm there!" He says we took the workout "up a notch." I agreed as my abs screamed at me. I returned to my desk feeling a little wore out. I realized I had forgotten to make arrangements for next week's workouts, do I wrote him an email telling him my plan. Clicked "Send." That's when all hell broke loose. You see Ass Kicker's email address is GlassPalaceFitness@gmail.com (yes, I have changed the first part of that email address to protect the innocent). The distribution list email for everyone in the building at the Glass Palace is GlassPalace@GP.com. You know how when you go to type in an email address and it auto-populates and you just hit "enter?" Well, that is what I did, not double checking before sending. Yes, I had just sent my workout request to approximately 500 people. Within seconds, I had people at my desk, I had the instant messaging app going ape-shit crazy, emails were coming in, "did you mean to send that to everyone?" "You sent that to the whole building." "Hey, good for you getting to the gym." "Just so you know, you sent that to ALL." Then my cell phone starts going off, people are texting me. Sweet mother of God. People are standing up laughing in all the rows around me, Four Feet of Fury is standing next to me doubled-over laughing. Mother. Trucker. I am frantically trying to remember how to recall a message. My boss can't remember, no one can remember. As each moment goes by, another person sends me an email telling me of my error. I sent out another email, "Okay, I know! Woops! At least you know where I am next week." That didn't help, they kept sending messages and appearing at my desk to mock me. All I can say is, thank God it was not a personal email, like where I talk about my sore ass and not being able to sit down on the toilet. Finally, we remembered how to recall the email, but really, the damage was done. I left my desk to go to the bathroom and I pass Tooth-in-Hinder and he smiles knowingly. I said, "Well, I didn't get an email from anyone in your group, when is it coming?" He laughed and said that his team had discussed my little faux pas and had collectively agreed to let me have this one. Finally, someone cut me a break.
It was now time for me to go to a couple of doctor appointments. On my way out, I get a phone call from the dude that handles insurance at the place I got my surgery done and have all my follow-up appointments. I had sent them my new insurance information, since my company is changing us effective March 1st, and asked if I was still covered. Insurance Dude informs me that my new insurance company doesn't support obesity treatment, so likely they would not be able to cover me. I would now be a cash customer and doctor visits and nutrition visits would be $100 each. I just stood there. It fucking figures, just my luck. This probably means the new medication Dr. B has put me on is not going to be covered either. "Pissed" hardly covers how I felt. Maybe I could have them classify the appointments as psychiatric help...I mean, I am nuts. So, really, nothing else to say about that situation, not a damn thing I can do about it. I head off to my first appointment with the ear, nose and throat doctor about the reflux that has been plaguing me since the surgery. The appointment went off with no problems. I'm doing fine, going to keep doing what we are doing. Now, time for follow-up with Doctor Lite about my "happy pills." Not looking forward to this.
Dr. Lite walks in and she has someone who must be an intern or in training, or something. She's like a little puppy, but I'll call her Dr. Zero because she is less that Dr. Lite. Dr. Lite asks me how I'm doing. "Fine," I tell her. She asks me if I feel better. I tell her, "I think a little." She then informs me I should be feeling a lot better, not a little. She asks me if I think the dosage is okay. I thought that is what she was supposed to tell me. I told her I guessed it was fine. I mean, since I started taking it, no one died, I didn't crap my pants, I haven't thought about killing myself or anyone else violently or peacefully. She then informs me that she thinks I need to double the dose because I weigh a lot more than the average patient and the pills are based on body weight. I sat there and blinked at her. She then starts the interrogation, "How long have you had a weight problem?" I tell her since birth. She says, "Are you gaining weight?" I told her no, I hadn't gained, just currently stuck. She asks, "Well, how much do you eat?" I tell her between 900-1200 calories a day, depending on if I am behaving or not. She says, "well, that certainly should cause you to lose weight. Do you eat fat?" I looked at her kind of weird and said, "Well, yes, I eat things with fat in it, yogurt, cheese, some of the meat I eat has fat in it...so...yeah..." I was feeling defensive, where exactly is she going with this? She says, "have you seen a nutritionist?" I responded, "yes, I have been all along since the surgery." Dr. Lite says, "well, what does she say?" I'm completely irritated now. "She and the doctor have put me on some additional medication to help me and I'm going to keep focused." She nods. I continued, "I don't know how much I will be able to follow-up with her or take the meds as I don't know if my new insurance will cover it." Dr. Lite then felt it was necessary to turn to Dr. Zero and fully discuss how obesity is such a problem and it is a travesty that more insurance companies don't get involved and we have an epidemic on our hands and that she was totally bummed because they had an obesity workshop today, but she couldn't go. Hey, that's all fascinating but can we get back to me? I mean, it's really too bad she didn't make the workshop, because she may have had some more life changing advice for me like last time and the 30-day plan thing. Anyway, I was finally released with instruction to call her in a week and let her know how things are going. Right.
I'm now on the way home, but I needed to stop by the grocery store. Guess who was there? Those little cookie whores...the Girl Scouts. Girl Scouts with their mother-trucking-fat-girl-seducing-ass-enlarging-crack-whore-addictive cookies. I hate their guts. I thought to myself, "you could just buy one box of thin mints...." No, I had to shut Fat Pony up. I left without cookies. A success! But I know they are going to be as thick as fleas on a dogs back for the next month. Everywhere you go, there they will be. I must be militant about this. NO COOKIES. You hear me, Shark Bait? You bring cookies into this house and I will insert a thin mint into one of your holes that doesn't have teeth. You hear me? You buy them, then you can eat them shamefully in the privacy of your own truck, alone and guilty, like all other fat people before you. The standard has been set. Follow it accordingly. And, don't come loving up on me with thin mint breath,either. I mean it. I will not be seduced by those cookies. I will not. I'm serious. I'm pretty sure. Almost 99.9% that I will not cave.
Anyway, that was my Friday. In closing, I'd like to offer some helpful tips:
The first part of my day seemed to go off innocently enough. I made it to the gym on my lunch and worked out with Ass Kicker. He showed me a new exercise and then said, "do that over and over until you hate me." I got to the second rep and declared, "I'm there!" He says we took the workout "up a notch." I agreed as my abs screamed at me. I returned to my desk feeling a little wore out. I realized I had forgotten to make arrangements for next week's workouts, do I wrote him an email telling him my plan. Clicked "Send." That's when all hell broke loose. You see Ass Kicker's email address is GlassPalaceFitness@gmail.com (yes, I have changed the first part of that email address to protect the innocent). The distribution list email for everyone in the building at the Glass Palace is GlassPalace@GP.com. You know how when you go to type in an email address and it auto-populates and you just hit "enter?" Well, that is what I did, not double checking before sending. Yes, I had just sent my workout request to approximately 500 people. Within seconds, I had people at my desk, I had the instant messaging app going ape-shit crazy, emails were coming in, "did you mean to send that to everyone?" "You sent that to the whole building." "Hey, good for you getting to the gym." "Just so you know, you sent that to ALL." Then my cell phone starts going off, people are texting me. Sweet mother of God. People are standing up laughing in all the rows around me, Four Feet of Fury is standing next to me doubled-over laughing. Mother. Trucker. I am frantically trying to remember how to recall a message. My boss can't remember, no one can remember. As each moment goes by, another person sends me an email telling me of my error. I sent out another email, "Okay, I know! Woops! At least you know where I am next week." That didn't help, they kept sending messages and appearing at my desk to mock me. All I can say is, thank God it was not a personal email, like where I talk about my sore ass and not being able to sit down on the toilet. Finally, we remembered how to recall the email, but really, the damage was done. I left my desk to go to the bathroom and I pass Tooth-in-Hinder and he smiles knowingly. I said, "Well, I didn't get an email from anyone in your group, when is it coming?" He laughed and said that his team had discussed my little faux pas and had collectively agreed to let me have this one. Finally, someone cut me a break.
It was now time for me to go to a couple of doctor appointments. On my way out, I get a phone call from the dude that handles insurance at the place I got my surgery done and have all my follow-up appointments. I had sent them my new insurance information, since my company is changing us effective March 1st, and asked if I was still covered. Insurance Dude informs me that my new insurance company doesn't support obesity treatment, so likely they would not be able to cover me. I would now be a cash customer and doctor visits and nutrition visits would be $100 each. I just stood there. It fucking figures, just my luck. This probably means the new medication Dr. B has put me on is not going to be covered either. "Pissed" hardly covers how I felt. Maybe I could have them classify the appointments as psychiatric help...I mean, I am nuts. So, really, nothing else to say about that situation, not a damn thing I can do about it. I head off to my first appointment with the ear, nose and throat doctor about the reflux that has been plaguing me since the surgery. The appointment went off with no problems. I'm doing fine, going to keep doing what we are doing. Now, time for follow-up with Doctor Lite about my "happy pills." Not looking forward to this.
Dr. Lite walks in and she has someone who must be an intern or in training, or something. She's like a little puppy, but I'll call her Dr. Zero because she is less that Dr. Lite. Dr. Lite asks me how I'm doing. "Fine," I tell her. She asks me if I feel better. I tell her, "I think a little." She then informs me I should be feeling a lot better, not a little. She asks me if I think the dosage is okay. I thought that is what she was supposed to tell me. I told her I guessed it was fine. I mean, since I started taking it, no one died, I didn't crap my pants, I haven't thought about killing myself or anyone else violently or peacefully. She then informs me that she thinks I need to double the dose because I weigh a lot more than the average patient and the pills are based on body weight. I sat there and blinked at her. She then starts the interrogation, "How long have you had a weight problem?" I tell her since birth. She says, "Are you gaining weight?" I told her no, I hadn't gained, just currently stuck. She asks, "Well, how much do you eat?" I tell her between 900-1200 calories a day, depending on if I am behaving or not. She says, "well, that certainly should cause you to lose weight. Do you eat fat?" I looked at her kind of weird and said, "Well, yes, I eat things with fat in it, yogurt, cheese, some of the meat I eat has fat in it...so...yeah..." I was feeling defensive, where exactly is she going with this? She says, "have you seen a nutritionist?" I responded, "yes, I have been all along since the surgery." Dr. Lite says, "well, what does she say?" I'm completely irritated now. "She and the doctor have put me on some additional medication to help me and I'm going to keep focused." She nods. I continued, "I don't know how much I will be able to follow-up with her or take the meds as I don't know if my new insurance will cover it." Dr. Lite then felt it was necessary to turn to Dr. Zero and fully discuss how obesity is such a problem and it is a travesty that more insurance companies don't get involved and we have an epidemic on our hands and that she was totally bummed because they had an obesity workshop today, but she couldn't go. Hey, that's all fascinating but can we get back to me? I mean, it's really too bad she didn't make the workshop, because she may have had some more life changing advice for me like last time and the 30-day plan thing. Anyway, I was finally released with instruction to call her in a week and let her know how things are going. Right.
I'm now on the way home, but I needed to stop by the grocery store. Guess who was there? Those little cookie whores...the Girl Scouts. Girl Scouts with their mother-trucking-fat-girl-seducing-ass-enlarging-crack-whore-addictive cookies. I hate their guts. I thought to myself, "you could just buy one box of thin mints...." No, I had to shut Fat Pony up. I left without cookies. A success! But I know they are going to be as thick as fleas on a dogs back for the next month. Everywhere you go, there they will be. I must be militant about this. NO COOKIES. You hear me, Shark Bait? You bring cookies into this house and I will insert a thin mint into one of your holes that doesn't have teeth. You hear me? You buy them, then you can eat them shamefully in the privacy of your own truck, alone and guilty, like all other fat people before you. The standard has been set. Follow it accordingly. And, don't come loving up on me with thin mint breath,either. I mean it. I will not be seduced by those cookies. I will not. I'm serious. I'm pretty sure. Almost 99.9% that I will not cave.
Anyway, that was my Friday. In closing, I'd like to offer some helpful tips:
- Do not start your day with a positive attitude, play it by ear, then at the end of the day, you can say, "Hey, today didn't totally suck!"
- Always double-check who your emails are addressed to BEFORE sending.
- Get yourself a good job with good insurance if you can, or don't get fat or unhealthy.
- If your doctor tells you that you need double the meds because you are double one human, find a new doctor.
- And finally, when you know many of your friends have kids that sell Girl Scout cookies, you probably shouldn't call their daughters "cookie whores" but that is how I roll and you know it is said with love...with underlying hatred for seductive calories.
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