This is one of the "less fun" steak days. And that's saying something. School is done, and now I need to clean the horrid kitchen. But I feel as weak as a newborn kitten. Ugh.
Today I got out my hcg notebook and got everything ready (new calendar and other necessary forms, etc.). Wow--it's really gonna happen! It's kind of exciting, kind of daunting. On a related note, my self-ordered needles and syringes arrived today. They're about 1/3 in cost of what the office was charging (a dollar a needle--usury!), and that includes shipping. Tell your friends.
So, Saturday is loading. I love loading too much. I'm rather glad the way the calendar plays out this time. Looks like I'll head into stabilization (emotionally difficult, but at least I'm not starving) on April 1st (no fooling). So, I can essentially be done in March. As in, starting on my first day of misery, I can say, "I'll be done next month." Psychologically valuable for a nutjob like me.
Last night at Anna's concert I was chatting with the dad of a fellow violin student of Anna. I haven't seen him in quite awhile, known him for years. I'm hardly one to ever think I'm being checked out. But he was like one of those googly eyed fish, staring at my chest, saying I'd "bounced back from the surgery." Mark thought it was hilarious (he always feels a smug satisfaction when I get checked out, claiming that he's the one who gets to take me home, so they can look all they want and eat their hearts out), and he made me laugh, too.
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