patience (m)

Before I left for Wharton in 1979, my husband (then boyfriend) gave me a great big teddy bear to keep me company.  The teddy bear was wearing a t-shirt that said: "Have patience with me....God isn't finished with me yet."

The teddy bear was very cute, but the t-shirt threw me off.  Why is he wearing a t-shirt and what the hell does that mean?  Who isn't finished yet?  The bear?  My boyfriend?  ME???  Even stranger, I found out a short while later that the teddy bear didn't even come with the t-shirt which made the message all the more pointed.  The question was....at whom?

Fast forward to today.  Crazy day.  Got up extra early, cleaned the house, put a laundry in and packed the car for the day since I wouldn't be home until after ten p.m.  First stop: my dermatologist to remove some moles and skin tags (another genetic gift from my father's side, along with the bad teeth).  Had 16 shots of novocaine on my eyelids and neck and inside my nose (something was growing there which made people offer me Kleenex until I told them it was a growth not anything else).  At one point I looked up at the ceiling and realized I couldn't see and couldn't flex my right nostril.  I started to panic as if I were in the MRI tube again.

From there, I flew over to Weight Watchers.  Like a good scientific experiment, I wear the same clothes each week so I control as many variables as possible. The problem is that when I started WW a few weeks ago it was warm.  My uniform, therefore, is lightweight capri pants and a J. Jill shelf tank cami (holds you in like a bra without the extra fabric to weigh you down).  However, it snowed this morning and I looked ridiculous in my capris.


 I go to the bathroom quickly (part of the pre-game checklist is an empty bladder) and check myself in the mirror.  Yikes.  I look like I went into the beehive without one of those helmets with the net.  I'm an absolute fright.

I come out of the bathroom and step on the scale.  Elaine looks up and almost jumps out of her skin.  She doesn't ask what happened because I think she is trained to ignore unpleasant sights.  She smiles and tells me I lost "another pound".  A POUND??  I express my frustration.  We review my diary from last week and determine that I am undereating as I don't use all my points every day and never go into my 35 bonus points per week.  Elaine says you have to eat all your points or your metabolism will slow down.

I sigh.  Elaine tells me not to worry, that I just need to be patient.

I look in the mirror on my way out.  Patience.  Someday this caterpillar will turn into a butterfly.