May 13th, 2010

Scribe

Discontented

I am stout.

I've been heavy for most of my life, but I am no longer heavy.  I am stout.

I do not wish to be stout.

The picture in my head does not match the picture in my camera - and the picture in my head isn't the most flattering.

I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to work more movement into my day.  Ten and a half hours of my day are spent either at work or in transit.  There is definitely three hours of chores when I get home, although I don't always get them done.  I'm trying to get eight hours of sleep, although I really seem to need about nine, because I can't get up in the morning.  That leaves two and a half hours, which need to include dinner - which I really ought to start cooking again occasionally (Bob has been doing the cooking.)  What am I supposed to do - stop eating dinner to free up that time, or try to cut my sleep back even further?

<sigh>

It would be great to be able to disappear to the gym for two hours in the middle of the day like the attorneys do, but I'm hourly, not salaried.  That would mean staying late to make up the time, and I don't want to watch my daughter "grow up horizontally," because I only ever see her when she's already asleep.  A coworker and I are going to try to start walking at lunch, but that has it's own issues.  Sharing the road with large trucks is one slightly hair-raising problem.  Also, spending the rest of the day at the office all sweaty and disheveled just bugs me - especially in July and August.  Ick.  But I'm just not sure what the other options are.

I wish I had my husband's metabolism.