Consequences

So after dinner with my cousin, I came home to discover Hubby was taking a nap. I wandered into my office to try to distract myself from the truly painful feeling in my stomach. So I did what I often do when I need a good distraction -- I started planning some scrapbooking lay-outs.

Next thing I knew, it was one-thirty in the morning. (I guess that after a month of being off the stuff, the caffeine in the Diet Pepsi was like high-octane!) I'd forgotten to wake Hubby, so he had "napped" far too long and was now wide awake, watching a horror movie on the TV in the bedroom.

I came into the bedroom and grabbed some headphones and the PDA so I could drift off to sleep to something other than screaming. But as I lay there, still feeling awful, I began to become aware of an increasing pressure growing in my chest, and some burning discomfort making itself known between my shoulder blades. I tried to drift off to sleep, but it kept getting worse. Next thing I know, I'm looking up "heart attack symptoms women" in Google and talking with Hubby, wondering if maybe we ought to go up to the hospital.

Well, we didn't go. I began burping like a grade nine boy with something to prove, and eventually I got to sleep. Four hours later, I got up to go to my WW meeting.

When I was in college, I distinctly remember people describing their drinking habits that night before as "getting polluted". Well, when I got up this morning, that's how I felt: polluted. I felt as if a toxic waste dump had somehow been let loose in my abdomen. Over the years of hearing people at WW meetings talk about "feeling awful" when they ate greasy food after eating well for a long period of time, I always joked I wish I had that problem -- that it always tasted good. Well, this morning, I knew what they meant.

Before going to WW, I hopped on my home scale to see that I was up four pounds over yesterday, and I felt like it should have been more. I felt like I had an anvil in my gut.

Be careful what you wish for, I say.