The final part of the foster care process was to have our GP sign off on our medical health declaration.
As we haven’t properly found a doctor here that we are happy with we have only seen the after hours clinic when in desperate need for medical attention. (Like the plague that husband infected me with, with no regard to my safety. I thought I was going to die!)
So, knowing that we had mere hours before we were to be seated in front of 6 serious looking people at panel and asked the hard questions like ‘would you like tea or coffee’ and ‘what is your name‘, we had to find a GP and fast.
Thankfully our new GP was awesome and saw us at last notice (or early notice as we were outside the surgery at 7am) and got on with doing our health check.
We were about to finish up when he decided that he should probably weigh us (WHY? I ALREADY KNOW I’M FAT) and took us into the treatment room where one of those scales is…you know, the one that doesn’t lie about your weight and gives that look of “You shouldn’t have had that bag of chips you heifer”
Husband stood on the scales first and then I was up.
Now, I’m going to say that I was feeling cocky.
After the plague of death I had lost 5kg from my life almost slipping away and I haven’t put it back on.
I had visions of myself telling the doctor that I am making a good hard effort in losing weight and see? i’d lost 5kg!
He would pat me on the back kindly, congratulate me and then give me a sugar free lollypop in grape flavour because it’s my favourite.
However what happened was mortifying and horrible and so very depressing.
The scales looked menacingly up at me and sniggered “tsk tsk chubs, you fail at life”
The scales said I was 10kg heavier.
10.
1 0
ten
TEN
I wanted to die.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to eat a donut in the dark and blame it all on heavy shoes.
And then husband saved my life.
He took my handbag off my shoulder.
The handbag that was carrying my life planner, our foster care assessment files, the kitchen sink and enough loose change to buy a house rolling around a bag Mary Poppins would be proud of.
And I instantly lost 10kg.
The deep shade of red my face was took a little longer to disappear.
The end.
+ - 12 comments
Oh you beautiful thing. love to you as you go on this road xx
Super fast weight loss! I only weigh myself naked now…otherwise I make excuses like ‘Oh, it must be my fat pearl earrings that made me 3kg heavier this week’ :P
LOL
i’m convinced my hair puts on at least 5kg…
Thank goodness for quick-thinking husbands. (I wonder how much my handbag weighs)?
:) That is one real Mary Poppins bag, you must have strong shoulders. Well done on getting the check sorted out and thanks for the post, it made my day more smiley, x
sass….hello, hello. i have just found you again. ummm…where to start?? hope all is well. talk soon. hugs, veronica. xo
LOL Oh dear, it made me laugh out loud! 10kg though, WOW, what the HECK do you carry in there?!
Normally it’s not that heavy BUT I had all of our foster care binder folders and loads of paperwork PLUS my life planner which i’m sure weighs 3kg itself!! :P
And I wonder why my back is always sore!
:)
Veronica!!
I missed you so!
Shall email you this weekend!!
<3
xx
I really wonder why I get such a sore back and then i remember that I carry around my kitchen sink in my handbag.
I’m sure that as soon as we get the kids my bag will only become a billion times more heavier! x
Haha. Can I refer to my ass as a handbag and just deduct 10kg? No? Like, not AT ALL!? Oh well. Well done you. LOVE this. xox
Don’t want to think about how much my purse weighs (nor how much of that is chewed gum wrapped in used wrappers), but I will say that I always take off my shoes. Shoes are heavy. So, apparently, are people who eat Cheetos almost every day.
Huge congratulations on getting done and getting matched. An 11yo! That’s a huge life change – enormous. But if I know of anyone sporting and joyful and ready for the challenge, it’s you. (And Lex. And Moo, naturally.) Are you foster-care only, or foster-to-adopt? We need to know all the details as soon as you have them, you know :).
Also, I want to respond to your very thoughtful comment on my blog. I preen myself excessively on the fact that if I got pregnant or something and my former IF friends had not yet adopted, they would be miserable and I would KNOW that they were unhappy and that I would have been as bad or worse (this is a lot of odd verb tenses, sorry); whereas it seems that other people take some queer attitude when they cross over first and I am upset, as if they can’t imagine they would have been nothing but ecstatic for me and I am just being peculiar by being unhappy. So I appreciate your wisdom and generosity in knowing that if the tables were turned…
I also want to say that I am genuinely really happy for you. I’d like to be genuinely happy for all my IF friends who get to cross over (the ones I don’t want to kill, that is), and I try to be and I am very pleased with myself when it comes off. I guess for the pair I am ranting about currently, the problem is that my “safe” social space in which I could just BE and relax on weekends and not have to keep up dealing with other people’s children, which is so emotionally exhausting, has been stolen. When I am most tired and most in need of just having a friend or some leisure or someone interested in my life, I have the opposite – I’m invisible and my life is weird and un-discuss-able and I have to talk about other people’s babies.
So that’s a very long-winded way of saying that I’m ACTUALLY happy for you – for the sad and pathetic reason that your having a kid now isn’t hurting me :/. It’s not that pretty; but it’s honest, and that’s what I have left. Fortunately, it’s also honest to say that you are one of my favorite people and it couldn’t happen to anyone nicer.