I had yogurt for breakfast. I hate yogurt but this whipped fluffy nonsense in the key-lime flavor was actually pretty good. If I'd had about three more little containers of it, it might have even filled me up.
I'm working on eating less. Not pills, not shakes, not icky bars, just less of the crap I normally eat, and more healthy stuff occasionally. For example, instead of Fritos or something, I'll eat Pirate's Booty. (That sounded dirty, somehow.) Pirate's Booty is healthy. Not if I eat three bags in one sitting, but a single serving is pretty good.
I've decided that the biggest meal of the day that I can eat is lunch since it's mid-day and I'll be running around, etc., so it won't just sit in my gut like a brick.
This whole diet thing isn't so bad. I drink a lot of water to fill me up so I don't lash out and start gnawing on people, as a result, my skin has cleared up nicely and I pee more. I don't know if that's good, but hell, why not? Eating less has also cut down on my grocery bill and I've been feeling sexier, so it's...I don't know, made me feel sexier. Rowr.
All of this, of course, was initially motivated by my brother's impending wedding and my role in it, my pink strapless dress role. I've also started doing all sorts of goofy beauty things like masks, exfoliating and occasionally applying make-up. I feel all girly.
Normally, I take a shower, comb my hair and I'm out the door. Now I'm frickin' moisturizing. I must have fallen asleep one night and a pod containing a Gem-chan who owns a loofah came out and took over my brain. A loofah. God, I suck. Oh well. It's about damn time I explored my girly side, I guess.
And in Bob news...he's still improving. However, the insurance company is pushing my mom to have him released tomorrow. Now, the man can barely walk. He requires 24-hour monitoring, he has to be turned every 2 hours because of his bed sores, he's on some ungodly number of medications and he has some difficulty going to the bathroom by himself.
According to the insurance people, he's fine. Of course, these are also the people who said that initially he didn't need any physical therapy after his hip replacement.
My mom and my brother both have to work, and they both have bad backs which means that they can't lift him. My mom was just told about Bobito's possible release yesterday and she has to get the house ready, i.e., handicapped accessible because it's not and, if the insurance company had its way, Momdingo and Big Al would be forced to take 12 hour shifts to look after my dad.
Momdingo is spitting mad and out for blood. My dad needs medical attention, at the least, he'll need a home nurse to help him while the family is at work. He wouldn't be able to fit a wheelchair or a walker through the bathroom door or get around our 2 story house by himself, so Momdingo would need some time to have someone come in and widen doors, etc. She needs more than two frickin' days.
Momdingo has sicced my dad's law partner, Joe, on them, which is a good thing because Joe is very scary. She termed it "releasing the kraken". Yikes. I would not want to be an insurance agent right about now.
And the girl who did this is walking around without a worry in the world, with no repercussions for her actions. What a world, I tell ya.
