Last night, between work and Value Village, I remember thinking "Hmmm. My throat is a little sore." Sometime between then and going to bed, I got the mother of all sore throats, a cough, some stomach ickiness, and so on.
Of course, this morning, I woke up with absolutely no voice. Curses! So I called in sick to Job #2, and hung out in bed all day, desperately willing the scarf I'm wearing to have a curative effect beyond the psychological. Oh, and trying to memorize my sides for tomorrow. And hemming a pair of pants, and making an adjustment to the top I bought last night.
And weighing in.
Yes, I did it. And while I was (as always)outraged that I wasn't suddenly 10 lbs lighter without doing anything, I am going to consider this my new starting number.
175.
Could this be pre-special-woman-time weight? Maybe. Does that matter? It shouldn't, especially if I'm going to stop playing mind games with myself about it. And it's a far cry from my all-time adult high of 235 (which I was also outraged to find out about, especially after catching sight of myself in a store window and not recognizing myself. "Why didn't anyone tell me?" I raged to myself.)
Tomorrow after my audition (send good vibes at around noon MST, please!), I'm going for some gluten-free goodness at the grocery store. It's funny how that five to seven minute slot really weighs over my whole day. I mean, it's what I really want to be doing, it is. I've gone through the whole examining-my-pathos career stuff. And I keep coming to the conclusion that I'm a creative person, specifically a performer and writer. And somehow I've just gotten it in my head that I shouldn't put myself out there, because I'm not... something.
So begone, doubts! And laryngitis! Tomorrow I get to act for some people. If only for five to seven minutes.
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