12:33 pm - November 30, 2010
Bette Davis Thighs
Two weeks ago, I quit smoking after 15 years. *enter inner conflict* I hate it. Quitting, that is. I'm irritable, snarky, depressed and forgetful to the point you'd worry that I've become brain-damaged. I'm considering discovering time travel only so I can go back to my teenaged self, smack the cigarette out of my hand and say "Smoking is not fooling anyone into thinking you're any older than you are. Give it up." DH is holding up well for the most part, not smoking near me when we're out, not questioning that mine is now a non-smoking car, and washing up after he smokes. I suppose it does make it a bit easier that he uses these awful stinky cheap cigarettes that smell like charred despondency.
On other topics:
G-ma is doing well, albeit cranky, and I'm getting better at coping with the memory loss and frequent temper-tantrums. DH is still depressed-ish, but coping by making jokes almost constantly. Although I'm growing more certain that he has a mild form of Asperger's, trying to laugh when he makes an attempt is allowing me to focus more on being positive than the DOOM! DOOM! DOOM! view I've been carrying with me these past weeks/months/years/lifetime. (It's now lessened to the version you'll see if you type "Gir Doom Song" into the you toob site.)
So... I have carrot cake surprise to eat for breakfast now, the surprise is that there's cheesecake in the middle. Mmmm.
Yeah. I shouldn't have any problem with that whole weight-gain thing. ;-)
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