So you may remember I was on this eating healthier and trying to lose weight thing....right? Well, you know how the story goes. I lost some and then I got lazy and since I never step on a scale unless I'm at the doctor's office, the weight gain from what I lost has been unconfirmed yet is most likely. The clothes still fit like they did before, but that doesn't mean much.

Part of it was that I pulled my back and became immensely immobile and lacked the desire to do anything for a while and the other part was I NEEDED SOME FRICKIN' CARBS DAMNIT!

It's not like I went out and ate nothing but cake and pie. But c'mon...I can have the restaurant around the corner that will deliver the best Thai sweet chili chicken right to my front door. Convenience and Asian-goodness with just one phone call. Yummy food and Sex and the City on DVD. What else do I need? Plus, I came to the conclusion that there would always be someone heavier than me willing to sleep with me. So what's the point. I was oddly comforted by that realization while I enjoyed my brown rice. That is, until I looked at the calendar and realized my routine doctor's checkup was just around the corner.

I'm one of those believers in preventive medicine so I do go to the doctor every three months or so just to check everything out and such. I do it for my car...why not me too, you know? Plus, I actually like going to see my doctor. He's a nice man and very good at what he does. I can bring up anything that's going on with me without fear of embarrassment or what not. Through all the crap I went through last year, he was very comforting.

But when I saw the appointment I knew what was in store for me. That look of disappointment. The look that says, "But, you were doing so well. What the hell happened?"

I'm not ready to see that look. I find it humorous that it even matters but I guess he represents a sort of parental figure to me. For what ever dumb reason...I want his approval and fear his disapproval.

So I called his office this morning and rescheduled my appointment for later this summer. I have a little over nine weeks to get back on the program and start showing a little progress for fear of the look.

It may be a stupid reason — doing it for him and not for me — but hey...whatever works. Right?