I was up and coherent by 9, and after two trips back to my house because I: A) forgot to check if the refrigerator was shut tight (it sticks and I didn’t want to come home to rotting zucchini), and B) forgot to grab my sunglasses and computer adapter out of the Jeep, we went to Wal-Mart for car food and Imodium (which I, naturally, forgot to buy). BF, to his credit, only gave me a small eyeroll and sigh, but I told him the Imodium was only just-in-case, so I said drive on, I’d be fine.
And I was.
BF ate his breakfast:
(Believe me, I didn’t pick it out. That Lunchable had 350 calories, 19 grams of fat, 1 gram of fiber and 1000 grams of sodium. Seriously?)
I drank my breakfast. Slowly:
Not my best choice, I know, but solid food and I were still fighting.
The 7-hour-and-change trip to Greensboro was uneventful, although at one point we could have recreated a scene from “Thelma and Louise” if BF had listened to his GPS. While driving over a rather deep gorge in West Virginia (like there are any shallow gorges in WV) on a newly constructed part of I-77, Garmin interrupted our conversation about the price of crude oil (honest to god, we’re boring that way): “In 300 feet, take a U-turn.” Hmmm….it’s probably time for BF to get a map upgrade.
Fast forward to the morning, I felt like myself again, and knew I was looking at a great day. It started off disappointing with a lousy breakfast bar (Grits, biscuits and gravy, Fruit Loops and white bagels, with the only fruit being green or overripe bananas. Take your pick.), and I about gagged on the one and only sip I took of the Odwalla Superfood drink I bought the day before at Wal-Mart. But the morning quickly got better when I discovered I could eat my Greek yogurt with two coffee stir sticks (I was too afraid to return to the breakfast bar for a spoon):
The morning really got good when I was picked up at my hotel by my BFF Maintaining Diva Sondra, who not only took the day off from work, but drove an hour to see me. Now that’s love.
Here we are at Natty Greene’s:
Yes, that’s a beer sampler in front of us. Beer isn’t something I drink often, but in the right company it makes perfect sense.
Sondra is one of the Maintaining Divas, my maintenance support group, without whom I’m convinced I’d weigh 300 pounds again.
We drank coffee, browsed fun shops in downtown Greensboro, at lunch at the aforementioned Natty Greene’s, and then found the best pedicure I’ve ever had. A little place just south of the University of North Carolina Greensboro campus. We talked and laughed and caught up on all the gossip of our lives, and can I just say I’ve never known a massage chair to be so aggressive? Beat us both up (in a good way) with mini karate chop-like maneuvers. Rock on, massage chair!
Sondra getting prettified:
My toes post-pedi:
In these post-weight-loss years, I’ve learned the importance of taking care of myself, especially when a boatload of stress is wearing me down. And taking care of myself no longer means ingesting three servings of dinner or two Egg McMuffins or laying on the couch vowing one day I’ll get up and exercise. It means – beyond eating well and exercising – reaching out and telling the folks who love me the most that I need them. That their presence in my life is essential. To allow them to come to me and comfort me and make me laugh.
Vacations come in all shapes and sizes, and when a good friend is involved, even those 3- and 6-hour pockets of time together can feel like a week in the Bahamas.
I’ve had the good fortune the last month to engage in some badly needed girlfriend therapy. When Tracy and I went to a Twins game while I was in Minnesota, I got energized. When Shari and I hiked last week, I got energized. When Debbie and I painted wine glasses with her BFFs last Friday, I got energized. Today, with Sondra, I got energized. That energy is infused with the understanding and care that only good friends can give. Sure beats a pint of ice cream and a 3 Musketeer.
I will return to PA tomorrow, prepared to deal with all that awaits me there and on my phone texts and on my email. That boatload of stress isn’t gone, but it’s certainly more manageable. I do, in the infamous words of Ringo, get by with a little help from my friends.
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