I have made a grave error. Very grave! I have named my BODY FAT after my old fat bitchy cat, Schubert. I am trying to lose one Schubert (about 17 and a half pounds) because that’s what I gained as I lay in the bed, post surgery, eating post surgical mac-n-chee with pounds of post surgical butter. I forgot that Schubert’s main qualities consist of being old, fat, bitchy, hating everyone and everything on the planet except me and kibble, and – here we come to the key -consistently being in the exact place I LEAST want him to be.For example, I came down this morning to organize my 2010 and 2011 Sacred Paper Calendars, only to see my Sacred Paper Calendars had been knocked from my desk and were currently employed as a Snooze Pad for…yeah. That guy. SO I am blogging, and perhaps after this, if I put kibble in the bowl, he will heft his grumpy and enormous girth OFF my calendars and let me update them. *sigh*
This is not an isolated incident. Remember The Old Fat Cat Step? Sara gave it to me so Schubert could get up on the bed? Yeah, so, the Old Fat Cat Step sat by the bed for a SOLID WEEK, and Schubert would come around at 2 or 3 in the morning and stand right beside it and scream to be lifted up onto the bed. So, on Saturday, Scott MOVED the Old Fat Cat Step so we could strip and remake the bed. Laundry day, doncha know.
Sure enough, that VERY NIGHT, I hear Schubert shrieking that he wants up on the bed. I sit up blearily, and THERE HE IS, standing on the TOP STEP of the Old Fat Cat Step, which would be perfect! Would be a MIRACLE! If only the Old Fat Cat Step had not been ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE ROOM. I had to get up and go GET his sorry ruffle-butt from the step and put him in the bed.
Now the Old Fat Cat Step is back in place, and HIS attitude is, “I tried that. It didn’t work for me.”
What possessed me to name my BODY FAT after this ornery animal who does everything contrary-wise and balefully, with maximum resistance. Brilliant. True to form, the Schubert-fat is acting just like the Schubert-cat it is named for, sitting in the one place I TRULY do not want it. In this case, my butt.
Three weeks of making significant changes (Week 1, I upped my exercise back to my old pre-surgical levels. Week two, I committed to eating five portions of fresh fruits and veggies a day, and eating them FIRST, so as to make the portions of what I ate AFTER be smaller because I was fuller. Last week? Full on WW, with all manners of tracking, and I had an A+ week) and the day BEFORE I weighed in, the scale CONSISTENTLY and EVERY DAY said I was down just over 3/17ths of a Schubert.But actual weigh in day? The Schubert-Fat asserted itself and puffed and swelled and HOPED ITSELF bigger. On weigh in day, the scale said I was down only 1/17th of a Schubert. I moved the scale around, jiggled it, exhaled before getting on, tried later in the day…Nada.
The very next day, after my sad little loss was recorded, the Schubert-Fat relented and agreed it was really only 14/17ths of its former self, but I already had had to record it as 1/17th of a Schubert the day before. Which means next week, I will have what looks like a DRAMATIC and UNHEALTHY loss and Weight Watchers will YELL at me instead of giving me my rightful smiley icon.
Part of me wants to REALLY lose my temper and go after my Schubert-fat with a flensing knife screaming I WILL SHOW YOU. But that seems painful. And psychologically unlikely. After all, I am still sitting here blogging, and guess where Schubert-CAT is. Did you guess “sleeping on the very Sacred Paper Calendars that you desperately need to update before you screw up and miss a speaking engagement?”
You did? Give that lady a balloon.