The Gall of It All

This is going to get a little graphic, so the squeamish among us should avert their eyes. Nothing X-rated or sexy coming (more's the pity). No, it's all...uh, more digestively related.

I've been to see a doctor about my "condition."

What's that, you ask? Well, it's what I thought was a common occurrence among people who eat a lot of veggies and beans. Ahem.

I've tried Beano, I've tried Gas-X. I've tried homeopathic charcoal caps. And yet still there are moments when I could fill in for the entire tuba section of the Boston Pops. I could be my own Macy's Day Parade balloon with all the self-produced nitrogen.

At a certain point, one has to accept that the "condition" is just not normal. That is to say, even on a diet known to produce tremendous flatulence, there is a Rubicon to be crossed. When you surpass the maximum average output known to mankind and begin to match that of a cow -- a ruminate creature with FIVE stomachs -- then you know you have a problem.

According to the tummy doc I consulted on Wednesday night, it's my gall bladder. Exactly what -- inflammation, a stone, actual gall bladder disease -- we don't know.

Actually we don't know that it IS my gall bladder. But now I have to go through a battery of tests to find out. All I can say is ICK.

If my alternatives weren't so crap -- basically spend the rest of my life as a walking, human Whoopee Cushion -- I'd gracefully bow out of this.

I hate having to undergo pokes and prods. But if there's one glimmer of hope that one day I can regain the ability to digest even a simple salad, I must pursue it. My diet right now consists of yogurt, cottage cheese, and...er, yogurt.

Positive notes: My newfangled orthotics are here! Going to a fitting on Monday. They came in a few days after I read a NYTimes article on... (you know it's coming) how useless orthotics are for foot problems. Riiiiiighhht. Tell me this after I spent $400, you jerks.

But I will try them, because it can't hurt and they are paid for.

And because my stomach hurts, I will go get my blood tests and sonograms and everything else the doctor wants. But I draw the line at an endoscopy and/or colonoscopy right away, because there will be no intruding into the inner sanctums until I'm convinced it's medically necessary.

Other Positive Note: the skinny jeans definitely are looser this week. Still not quite as loose as they were last Xmas but better than two months ago. I'm a few pounds away from being back where I was.

That. Is. GOOOOOOOOD.

On a bad note, the stupid stomach doc weighed me at the end of the day, after I'd eaten, with full clothes on AND massive LL Bean workboots borrowed from my nephew that weigh at least 4lbs each.

I swear, that doctor is lucky he escaped the examining room alive after that disaster.

Will be checking in with all of you over the weekend. Hope everyone is well!

Master Fat Madness

Tonight, a longstanding kitchen mystery was solved. It is something I wish I had never seen -- something that cannot be unseen.

M has long had a habit (that I've never condoned) of gathering leftover bacon grease and storing it in (what used to be) a favorite coffee cup. He sits this goupy gelatinous mess in a corner of the kitchen window. At certain points, it disappears. And then returns.

I assumed when it got close to full he disposed of it in the trash, and then started anew. I never asked, being kind of grossed out by it, but figured he had to collect the grease somewhere because it was too hot to immediately throw in the trash after he cooked his bacon. And I just figured it wasn't a good idea to send such glop down our pipes, so that's why he didn't dispose of it in the sink.

Well, the veil has been lifted and the full horror of the fat revealed. He has been putting it in our food!!!!!

Yes, apparently this is a "thing" done by many big chefs and most Southern households. One collects all the grease from cooking meat (and other offal) and stores it, to use as flavoring or rendering in other dishes. Real chefs throw grease in from whatever they are cooking -- a mix-and-match of all types of fat (aka, 'master fat').

Tonight I caught M dabbing some of his disgusting brown fat goop into my spinach, onion, garlic and mushroom mixture. Oh, the humanity!!! And the calories!!!

I wonder how many extra calories in brown fat I've consumed every time we ate M-prepared quinoa, beans, or anything veg-related? What kind of a nut does that?

It reminds me of the time my friend couldn't figure out where all her butter was going. It seemed to fly out of her kitchen. Finally she realized her foodie husband was slathering everything he cooked in the stuff. She gained 5 lbs while he lost a ton of weight -- turns out he'd developed Type 1 diabetes and kept losing weight no matter what he ate, even a pound of butter a day.

So, I can go back and recalculate my calories for every meal eaten over the past year or so, or make sure M understands he is NEVER to put brown fat on my food again.

To top it all off, my weekend in Boston was great but I burned almost zero calories (that with long bus rides up and back). The only time we moved was ice skating at the Frog Pond (so beautiful).
I checked how many calories I burned...about 230. Yeah. About the same amount of calories you'd find in a tablespoon of brown fat.

But overall, the trip was grand. We had so much fun, and I didn't overeat. Struggling back into the regular routine, sans master fat (I hope).

Travelin'

Off to Boston today!

Visiting a friend, doing a little ice-skating on the Boston Commons Frog Pond, trying not to freeze my a** off. It's supposed to be about 11 degrees tonight in Beantown.

M is coming too, and we've got reservations at what promises to be a cute little place on State Street called The Beehive.

It's an up and back trip in 24 hours, but we discovered the bus ride round trip is only $56, and I like a good relaxing road journey that lets me sleep, read, and day dream while looking out the window. M will be snoozing as soon as the tires start turning, I'm sure.

Plan for this low-key weekend is to stay calm, eat lightly and not stuff myself (ie lose control). Luckily the friend I'm going to visit has had her share of weight problems in the past and recently dropped about 40 lbs from her 5'4 frame by much hard work and controlled eating, so I know she's a mindful eater who won't be putting out cheese and crackers for people to snack on. Thank Goodness, because on a cold hungry night, I could hoover up a nice wedge of brie or manchego.

The mantra this weekend is mindful living -- I want to go visit my friend b/c she's had a rough year (illness in the family, crappy boyfriend break up) and although you can talk all you want on the phone, sometimes making an effort to show up once in a while makes all the difference.

BUT.... (here it comes) that doesn't mean I can take my mind off my own goals. I must carry my weight-loss persona with me at all times. In fact, I will break out my magical cape, and wrap it around me for the weekend.

Resistance! Persistance! Insistance!

See you all Sunday. Have a great day.

Not a Bad Day....

Scrounged up a couple of assignments that allowed me to stay in my own neighborhood for a change. That meant I did not have to go into the office and dodge barbs from my rage-a-holic boss. Yay!

Started off my morning by walking 8 blocks north and three blocks east to my first interview of the day. One of my favorite photographers from the newspaper was assigned to work with me, so that was a big bonus. We did lots of walking for the story, about a section of Manhattan that's undergoing a big zoning change. Sounds boring, I know, but real estate is always a sexy topic in NYC.

It took several hours and lots of talking (my throat was sore!) and it was cold with a light drizzle, so around 1pm we were ready for lunch. There's a brand new restaurant in my 'hood that's just opened, I've been dying to try it and lunch is always better than dinner for me at "hip" places because I really can't stand crowds when I'm trying to eat (or shop).

We trotted over to the Red Rooster and snagged a seat. The minute I spotted this salad, I knew Photog and I were going to split it for a starter. Pickled beets, chopped hazelnuts, arugula and manchego. Sounds nasty, right? But I knew it would be delicious, and ohhhhhh .... it was.
Thankfully, it was also very small. The pickled beets (the pink stuff) were sweet, not pickley, and the arugula spicy, not bitter. The manchego flavor was hard to find, so for me that was a lost ingredient -- why put it in the menu description if you can't taste it? -- but it could be that Photog scooped it all up before I found some. I let him eat the bread and 2/3 of the salad and took about 1/3.

Then it was time for the main dish. I abstained from the deep fried chicken, the baked deep-dish greens and mac-n-cheese, the burger and fries. Instead, it was pumpernickel, cream cheese, gravlax (Swedish smoked salmon), dill, with a smidge of avocado, sweet horseradish and onions.

A sandwich for the ages. I ate it all. It was divine. I could not believe how satisfying the flavors were. I am newly in love with pumpernickel.
I even managed to refrain from ordering a Negroni beer (but Photog did), although it took a moment to impose my will upon myself. When the waitress came with the dessert menu I politely refused to take it. Why look when you're not buying? Did not want to even crack that window of possibility.

More walking all afternoon for a different story in same area. Got in some good extra movement. Got hungry again around 5pm, so ate an apple with some hummus.

Even with the walking, I still felt that I still had to go to the gym, so at the end of the day I dragged myself there for 40 minutes on the bike. I didn't get the settings right or my bike was mechanically off in some way because I couldn't really work up a sweat. Didn't feel like a "good" workout, you know?

Home for dinner, and I kind of snacked on some barley while I was cooking -- that's not good. I feel a little like I overindulged this evening.

Officially dinner was kale, with about 1/2 a cup leftover quinoa, heated with sauteed mushrooms and onions, some black beans, and cod with panko bread crumbs. But I have to count the several bites of leftover barley I ate too, dang it all.

Honeeeesttyyyy...is such a lonely word...

except in the blogosphere, where honesty is popular and gets you cool things, like the Honest Blogger award I just got from Polar's Mom.


Thanks, Polar's Mom! (By the way, *totally* agree with everything you said about Freddie Mercury. Genius). I'll get to my honest statements in a minute, but first, an update on my week.

My post-holiday austerity plan has hit an unexpected snag. My stomach is acting up. Waaaayyy up. I don't know why, but I suddenly seem to have lost my ability to digest a simple salad. For the past two weeks I've been hauling greens with me to work for lunch, and boy.... it's been ugly. And painful. Gastroenterologist appointment this coming week. Stay tuned, those who are digestively obsessed (like me).

The good news is that I'm still walking, still going to the gym and have tried to push myself onto the elliptical as much as possible in the past two weeks. The skinny jeans are not as loose as I want them to be, but they ARE looser. Even the curmudgeony b/f, now known as M, has admitted as much.

Shopping on Monday, and for some reason I was driven to take a picture of my shopping cart as I waited in line to pay.

What do you think? Too much food for two people for a week? Be honest. There's definitely a lot of cat food! Note the Digestive Gold enzymes prominently in front -- my latest attempt to soothe the bacteria beast in my gut.

I also have a ton of Chobani in there... some guy had his long, skinny hands on the last big tub of plain no-fat Chobani, but couldn't make up his mind. He kept lifting it off the shelf, and then setting it down, then lifting it up, putting it down..I held my breath the whole time. The minute he actually released it fully and let his hands fall to his sides, I rushed up and said "I'll take that if you don't want it." I'm pretty sure I startled him into handing it over, but I was in a panic. With my stomach mounting total rebellion, there's nothing I can eat if lose my Chobani breakfast.

The brown wrap package in front is some flounder, by the way.

So, 10 honest things about myself:

1) You know from my last blog award posting that I'm not a fan (speaking personally, of my choices) of surgical interventions for weight loss (ie gastric bypass or lap-band surgery). But would I ever have surgery to get excess skin removed if I get to the point where I have a ton and I don't like it? Hell. To. The. YEAH!! Hypocritical of me? Probably. But I say, cut the damn skin off.

2) I spent waaaayy too many years of my life waiting -- hoping -- for the things and experiences I wanted to magically arrive at my doorstep, rather than going out there and making those things happen. I still sometimes default to this passive mode when stressed or depressed.

3) I made a conscious decision about two years ago to become an optimist. Not Pollyanna, but a positive thinker who deals well with reality.

4) My love for my cat is generally considered abnormal by friends and family. They are jealous. And wrong.

5) If I won the lottery, I would love to build an orphanage in Haiti with a school attached. And an animal sanctuary in upstate New York, and a fund to save wild horses in the West. And many many other things animal and children related.

6) I hate my hair. Not the color, because that's easily changed. No, the thin, flat, stringy texture. I can make peace with many things about myself, but can never get past my stupid hair (thanks a lot for the crap follicles, Mom).

7) Part of me is secretly disappointed with my entire weight loss performance over the past year.

8) If I lost my job tomorrow (bizarre how excited I get at the thought) I would become an NYC bike messenger! Seriously, I have long thought that I should get a more active job and that would help me shed more pounds.

9) My favorite thing about M is that he will hug me anytime, anywhere, for any reason or no reason, even if I'm sick as a dog and spewing things, or crying like a banshee and have a nose full of snot, or fresh from the gym and dripping with sweat. (He probably prefers to hug me at other, cleaner moments, but he's manfully stepped up to the plate many-a-time.)

10) I can beat many men at arm-wrestling. Yes, this is true. Started in grammar school, never stopped. Most recent victory: Christmas 2009, gave my 32-year-old macho colleague a lesson he'll never forget.

Note on #10 -- I swear I'm not a carnie freak, although I am very strong (a doctor once called me an 'outlier'). I think the weird ability to arm wrestle well is due to a unique family build. My legs have really hefty Samoan-size thighs, while my calves are like Babe Ruth dainty. Same structure on arms -- long, upper arms, short stubby lower arms. I think it gives me extra torque or something. That's my theory, anyway.

And 4, 3, 2, 1..... Roll Camera!

Two super-friendly and awesome bloggers gave me an award! It's my first ever and I gotta admit I'm pretty thrilled. It's like winning a bloggy Oscar (at least, it feels that way to me).

Best part is, I get to ask myself the questions. But don't worry -- I promise to be as hard-hitting as Barbara Walters on one of her weepy, interminable, badly-lighted Oscar Specials.

First, let me officially thank Fat Angry Mom, who tagged me with the Sylish Blogger's Award, and Polar's Mom, who slid in not long after with the same award.

I'd take this chance to lob 14 probing questions at myself, but given my tendency to ...er, wax on at great length, I think it's better to stick to 7, and keep 'em simple. Otherwise, we'll be here all day!

*****Cue music, lights, as Barbara Walters and her interviewee face the cameras****

1) Q: Why don't you have any pictures of yourself up here, Ish? (Barbara Walters leans closer..) Afraid to show yourself?

A: You know Barbara, the truth is, I work in media and I've had first-hand experience with just how shallow that world can be. I remember that on what might have been, oh, my third day starting as a reporter at my new job, one female reporter (skinny and gorgeous, of course) was laughingly telling some other reporters near me about the strange-looking woman she had interviewed for a story. She laughed and laughed, poking fun at the woman's appearance, and loudly repeating the words "fat girl" over and over. Suddenly she realized I was sitting right behind her, and even though she wasn't talking about me at all, she suddenly dropped her voice and began whispering everytime she said "fat girl." It was confusing and painful for me -- she was acting the way people used to about cancer 30 years ago, when it was the word never to be said out loud. I suppose she was trying to be sensitive -- I guess to her anyone who was my size could only feel shame when the word fat came up, even in a general context. Most of my colleagues are amazing and lovely people, but there are appearance-driven individuals all around. I have no desire to have my private struggles made fodder for water cooler gossip, or passed around the fishbowl of NYC media life. Better to stay anon, I say. Plus, on a more serious note, sometimes people take issue with articles I write. I have gotten crazy death threats at work, and I just think it better not to have too many images of me floating out there. However, if one of my bloggy friends truly can't go on living without my picture, e-mail me and I'll send you one.

2) Q: Fascinating (and quite long). Tell me, Ish, what do you most like to eat after a hard day's work?

A: Right now I'm all about Chobani zero fat, plain yogurt. Can't get enough of it.

3) Q: Why is your name 'Ishmael'?

A: Actually, Barbara, it's Call Me Ishmael (strained smile follows). It's the opening line to "Moby Dick," a novel I think appropriate to my struggle not just for the whale imagery, but because it's about chasing down a dream relentlessy, obsessively, with fierce determination. One might also say that obsession drove Ahab mad and destroyed his life, but I kinda coveniently overlook that part.

4) Q: (Barbara tilts her haloed, softly-lit head to the side)...What keeps you up at night?

A: Besides hunger, you mean? Aside from worrying that someone I know or love will get sick or hurt, I probably have two main anxieties with me at all time: that I'll never really lose enough weight to get where I want to be, or won't be able to keep it off, and I worry that I'm not doing enough in my career.

5) Q: Weight is such an issue in Hollywood. Yet you never opted for weight-loss surgery. Why?

A: Barbara, I'd only ever admit this to you (on national TV, for the ratings), but I have considered surgery! (Barbara sits back in triumph as shocked gasps from a faux-audience are piped in by producers). I have thought about it many times, especially lap band surgery. But everytime I read about it, I'm stopped by one thing: both types of weight-loss procedures demand that you commit to making better food choices, eat less, move more. I don't need surgery to do that -- I can do it on my own.

6) Q: If you could change one thing about yourself that would make your weight-loss journey easier, what would it be?

A: That's easy. I'd be a morning workout person. I want to be, I wish that I were. It just doesn't happen.

7) Q: What's the most important thing you've learned so far about weight-loss?

A: It's an obvious thing, maybe, to people who are "normal" and not food addicts. But it's taken me a long time to realize that food can't make me feel better about myself. Wine can't make me feel better about myself. Only I can make me feel better about myself.

Stay tuned for ongoing Barbara Walters interviews with the following bloggers, who have been given the Stylish Blogger Award from Call Me Ishmael:

The Fat Mom
Roz
Michele
The Ninja
JW
Congrats! You've all gotten the Stylish Blogger Award!

A Few Things I'm Happy About

-- Planned ahead for this week and cooked two sweet potatoes and one butternut squash to use up for vegetarian dinners for myself and the b/f. Also did a batch of barley, to break the quinoa rut.

-- Walked to work two days so far this week, with minimal foot pain. Foot doc said yesterday it looks like I irritated all the soft tissue and bursal sacs (not sure I'm spelling that correctly) with too much pounding (er..that would be my short-lived period of running 5ks on the treadmill in too-tight sneakers). He surmises that the soft tissue inflammation pinched my neuroma nerve. Now, two months later, the inflammation is easing, and hence, so is the nerve. I'm not pain free yet, but every day it gets better. I got orthotics anyway, because he said it would be a good way to protect from further damage.

-- I have not had any off-plan wine since coming home from the holidays, and I have greatly reduced what is on plan. And believe me, there hasn't been a day in the past week when I haven't thought longingly of going home, flopping into my big chair and sipping on a nice glass of red.

-- Back to writing down what I plan to eat, and keeping track of every variation from the scheduled intake.

-- Got up and went outside today after lunch and walked around the block about 8 times. I had to make phone calls and it suddenly came to me that I could do it from cell while I moved, rather than sit at my desk. Also gave me chance to stop at St. Patrick's Cathedral on Fifth Avenue. My friend who passed was Jewish, but I don't think she would mind that I had a quiet moment for her in a Catholic cathedral. It is on Fifth Avenue, after all, and she loved to shop that street!

Sometimes you gotta take a few minutes and remind yourself of what you're doing right. Right?

Cheer Up Time

Decided it was time to go through the ton of photos and videos I took over the Xmas holidays and New Year's and post something a bit more upbeat than my recent news.

Check it out below -- I apologize in advance for the vertigo-inducing camera work here. It was just after midnight and the ball drop. The one shot my nephew had wanted me to get -- the ball dropping -- was lost when the camera crapped out at the worst possible moment. So what you see here is the aftermath, and my very overwhelmed nephew trying to play it cool for the camera. He'd been dancing like a mad hatter (appropriate, given the free hats that were distributed courtesy of Nivea hand cream), but stopped as soon as I turned the camera. Ahhh tweens! Then he took it from me, hence the last 30 seconds of constant twirling.

Bad News Sunday

I hate to be a Debbie Downer, but Goodness, yesterday was awful.

My friend passed away sometime overnight or early Sunday morning. She was 35.

As I said before, we were not super close -- but she was a very lovely young woman, and it's very hard for me to believe she is gone. She fought her breast cancer with every weapon she had -- and her ammo was humor, rage and sarcasm.

This morning brought news from another dear friend, who lost her best friend from age 4 on Sunday morning. She dropped dead of a heart attack at age 43 -- left behind three kids.

The woman who died of a heart attack at age 43 was trim. My friend who died of breast cancer was trim -- and a real gym rat before she got diagnosed.

Obviously we don't know what kind of genetic hand these women were dealt -- and that is probably a major factor in both these outcomes.

But it's a little scary to be confronted with these realities. They are rather close to home, if you know what I mean. I take for granted my strong, healthy body that -- except for an unbelievable ability to pack on the pounds -- has never given me a serious problem.

I want to lose weight for many reasons, but I rarely think about it in relation to my health in any concrete way. Obesity is a major factor for many cancers, including breast cancer.

The next time I feel like sloughing off and skipping the gym, I'm going to think of my friend, and my friend's friend. The next time I get the urge to eat some fatty, fried food...I'm going to think long and hard about whether that's what I really want.

Yesterday, as I talked my friend's brother and gave my condolences to the family, I thought about how much I love my friends and my family and my not-so-special life that I've carved out for myself here in NYC. It's not much, but I'm blessed every day to have someone to love, an interesting job to go to, a cat to curl up with, a family that is proud of me and cares for me. I know my friend had the same love and support in her life, and that she didn't want to have to leave them and say goodbye. Who would?

I'm off to the foot doc's office, and then... yes, I'm going to drag myself to the gym.

Mind on Other Things

It's been two days now that I've been eating "clean" and trying to add in more regular exercise.

Two days.

Like a kid in the backseat, all I can do is whine "Are we theeeerreeee yet?"

Sigh. No.

But I have stuck to my austerity plan for two whole days! That's two days I didn't have before. The plan is my usual eating habits, but a more veggie-filled lunch, and a smaller-portioned dinner. The hardest part is the last part -- I always have trouble controlling that evening meal.

I have to pull myself back to the here and now almost continuously. My mind keeps racing ahead -- six months, eight months, asking, will I be where I want to be then? It's a real effort to wrench myself back and ask, "are you where you want to be now?" Never hurts to reiterate that arriving at the magical "there" place depends utterly and entirely on what I'm doing now.

In my mind I have a picture: we visit my family again in March, and I am fit and light enough to go kayaking with my dad. I didn't go over Christmas because I was secretly sure that I would sink the kayak. Can I really get to the point where those fears will be banished forever? I want to believe it -- but I can't quite convince myself.

I want to get down to my almost lightest adult weight ever -- it's where I was this spring, about 20 pounds ago. Then maybe I can be brave enough to take the next step. I got a boost tonight when I worked up the courage to put on my skinny jeans -- which I half suspected would no longer fit me at all. They still fit -- and almost exactly the same as before Christmas.

There's no rational explanation for this. I definitely gained some weight over the holidays. Maybe the rush of skiing and ice skating while the nephew was here helped burn some extra pounds. Either way, I'm sure if I didn't start my austerity program, those jeans would be popping within a week.

My apologies for this rather flat post. I wanted to put something up, but my heart is elsewhere tonight. I'm thinking of a young woman I know -- someone I once worked with -- who has been putting up a very brave fight against breast cancer for over three years. She was 33 when diagnosed, and went through a radical mastectomy, hysterectomy, chemo, multiple procedures and more... only to be told last year that the cancer she thought was eradicated had returned. We were not close friends, but after she moved back to her parents for health care reasons we kept in touch via Facebook and through her blog, which is hysterically funny even though it deals with the raw reality of her fight with cancer.

I've just gotten word that her latest treatments for the second bout were not particularly successful. She fell ill over the Christmas holidays. Yesterday her family put out a call for prayers for her -- she is in bed, in and out of consciousness.

I have been humbled by her spunk in recent years. I complain about having to get out of bed to go to the gym. She turns her chemo visits into fodder for a humorous blog that brought together cancer fighters and survivors from all over the world. I moan about pinched nerves in my feet. She made light of her double mastectomy with a tongue-in-cheek photo shoot and had the chutzpah to post her pics online.

I want her to be whole and well again. I want her to be at peace. Life can be damned unfair.

January Boot Camp

Time to get tough again -- the party is waaaaaaaaay over.

I'm declaring myself in an austerity phase for the next three weeks. My goal is the same as it was at the end of 2010: take off 35 lbs.

To that end, it's back to writing down my food plans every day, going back to working out daily, even though I still can't walk to work as I used to. The neuroma won't quit -- but I'm committed to finding a way around it. Right now I sit here with one toe throbbing in my left foot and another toe throbbing in my right foot. Not fun at all!

I should be writing a freelance article right now but instead I'm reading blogs and flipping through a vegetarian cookbook. I just can't summon the energy to go to work.

The nephew has returned home and things are going slowly back to normal -- whatever that is. We did manage to slide into Times Square in time to catch the countdown and it was crazy, crazy fun! I don't think he knew where to look first or how to react to all the joie de vivre. And he got very excited when some rapper named "Pit Bull" walked by us in the front section. We had a great time, and even fit in some ice skating in Central Park Saturday evening, and more skiing on Sunday. I am sooo wiped out.

I have much more to say, but I've got an alarm to set for an ungodly early hour of the morning. I walked to work today and it really irritated the neuroma nightmare, so I guess for the next few weeks (until I get my special orthotics) I'll have to hit the bike or the elliptical at the gym. I'd much rather walk to work and fit in a gym visit in the evening, but .... that's not on the table right now. I'm working on accepting my injury and moving on.

More soon, hope everyone is well!