not everything is as it seems
The results of my blood work came in today. You know things are messed up when your total cholesterol starts to resemble a respectable GRE score.
My mom's usually mad when I get health-related news like these (and they are always bad), as if it's my fault my body is broken. This time her admonishments were much shorter. I think she knows I'm doing just about all I can do: I exercise, eat healthy, get decent sleep, and drink lots of water. I've lost every pound I gained in college. In anticipation of the blood work I only ate rabbit food for the past week.
Where I used to work some of my coworkers would question me when they saw me ordering multiple salads at a steakhouse or going out of my way to eat vegan at a burger joint.
them: "Why aren't you eating [insert unhealthy food]?"
me: "Oh— health reasons."
them: "But you look fine! What are you talking about?"
me: "..." (tries to change the subject so I don't have to explain complex diet and medical situation to people that couldn't care less)
Some coworkers would even get offended, as if my mountain of arugula were a personal attack on their diet or waistline. It was exhausting trying to explain my choices to people that didn't need to know. I wish they would've known that many disabilities and health issues are invisible, and that being young and trim doesn't mean that things can't be seriously amiss inside my body.
I didn't know what to do with myself today and killed some time deciding which of my suits to bring to the wedding next week. I have three: one from high school and two my mom bought for me more recently. Somehow, the one from high school still fits me best, and might actually fit me better now that my shoulders have broadened. It feels strange, slipping into the blazer I wore to homecoming and prom as if I'd never left, even though I know how much living I've squeezed into the years since.
Anyhow, here's a poem I've been turning over in my head today.
(It's Alex Dimitrov, the usual.)