Being a woman is absolutely wonderful. We generally live longer, can wear make-up to cover a break-out, and friends have told me that getting knocked-up is really great (I’ll have to take their word for it). But there are two times when I think “Man, I really wish I had a pen** right now!” 1. Standing in line at a public bathroom and 2. When that crazy-bit** Aunt Flo comes to town.
My female comrades know exactly who I am referring to. For the guys out there, ask your wife, girlfriend or friendly neighborhood female pharmacist, I guarantee they are very familiar with what I am talking about. Just knowing Aunt Flo is on her way gives me stomach cramps and makes my skin break-out. Her very presence makes me cranky and moody. My boyfriend especially hates it when she comes to town.
This past Saturday marked my 2nd weigh-in and day 2 of her visit. That whole week I had been a Jenny Craig picture of perfection, not straying once from plan, drinking my water, and working out. I had been weighing myself daily (yes I know, tsk tsk!) and seemed to be in line to see another big weight loss at my next weigh in. I was pumped. On Friday morning, however, I jumped on my home scale to find that I had gained 1.5 lbs from the day before.
Now, if a man had experienced this 1.5 lb weight gain, I can imagine his befuddlement. “What happened? Did I accidentally eat a lead ball bearing in my sleep? Did someone inject Crisco into my Sunshine Sandwich to sabotage me? Has the gravitational pull of the earth been compromised and we’re all about to die?”
A woman, on the other hand, has a perfectly sane explanation for this crazy scenario – that danged Aunt Flo is at her old tricks again! When I weighed in at the Centre on Saturday, I was just a half a pound down. I was disappointed because I had worked so hard that week. When I explained to my counselor, a female, that Auntie F was in town, she just rolled her eyes and said, “Well, that explains it.”
It’s easy to get frustrated when things out my control cause unfair fluctuations (they never seem to fluctuate downward, do they?) But I have to remember that this is a marathon, not a sprint. My counselor reminded me that the hard work from the prior week will eventually show on the scale when that miserable whench has finally left town.
My skin is starting to clear and I have less homicidal urges today, so I think if I stay on track, I will see a big win this coming Saturday.