Hopeful

The last six weeks of my life have been bliss.  Twenty-five pounds lighter and waking up with more energy than I can remember in the last 9 years. I felt like I was soaring.  I know, it’s hard to explain.  But I felt limitless and was breaking out in song in my horrific tone deaf voice every morning.  Oh sure, my better half was putting his hands over his ears and wincing every time I hit a high note. But behind his wince, he was smiling nonetheless by my jubilance.  I was giggly and goofy and was dancing all thru my house, which is no easy feat since my house is tiny and my butt is not!  In fact, I was wiggling wherever I was going. Of course I took out the odd nick nac with that swinging patooty of mine, and I even think that my loveable pooch and better half were bulldozed into the odd wall now and then, but I didn’t seem to care. It was just plain wonderful to feel that way. In fact, “It” was fantastic and amazing.

Unfortunately, “It” has become the operative word.  I woke up Sunday with a wicked fibromyalgia attack.  I knew instantly the moment my eyes opened.  My body was heavy and thick.  My legs felt like cement, and the moment I moved, my body started to throb. I felt like I had been run over by a semi or at least being used as a speed bump for several cyclists. 

I suppose if you get to the crux of the matter, it is my fault.  I knew something was amiss on Saturday.  I felt just a tad sorer than I had in weeks, but I was so stupidly obsessed with getting my 45 minutes of exercise in that instead of listening to what my body had to say, I power walked around and around and around and around my neighbourhood like a silly dog trying to get it’s tail. I’d like to blame it on my ipod.  Filled with the music I love, I pounded the pavement until every ounce of me was vibrating. I was panting hard and I knew my body was hurting but I just didn’t care, the music was pouring thru me and I was loving it. And now, I am paying the price.

When I got up today, I realized that I was even worse than yesterday and it took me over 3 hours to get ready this morning, as I am just that sore.  Then to top it off, when I got into work some retro song by Mister Mister from the 80's was playing and I instantly had a flashback of me riding my bike in my teens with my walkman on blasting that song.  I saw me as wild and free with no pain and then I moronically started to cry.  And here I sit with stupid swollen eyes and no mascara or eyeliner left on my rather large alien head.  Boy I have a large head!

Oh well, I suppose some days are just going to be like that. In the meantime, I know that there are pain free moments, as I just had six blissful weeks of them and that makes me..... wonderfully hopeful.

Until Next Time.