One of my favorite preachers was in town on Monday afternoon. I planned my whole day around trekking down to the church so I could be firmly in my seat at 3:30 pm.
But then life happened. I woke up at 4:30 thinking I had to work. Took me afull 45 minutes to realize that I had the day off. Based on that wee bit of information, I justified lying around until 9:00am. (Generally if i’m still in the bed at 8am, it’s because I’m sick.) I probably needed the rest, but it completely wrecked my schedule.
Due to a series of unfortunate events earlier in the week, I was suffering from headaches, and a couple of dizzy spells. As a result, it took me much longer to finish my chores, as I kept needing to take a break. When I looked up, it was 2pm,and I still had a ton of work to do. I told my husband that I would probably not make my 3:30 engagement. Instead we decided to visit my mother-in-law.
While at her home, another set of symptoms hit me. I had pains and discomfort that seemed to come from nowhere. I pretty much spent two hours at her house laying on the floor. (Her floor is super comfortable, though.) She and my husband both seemed very concerned. Secretly, I was starting to worry, too…but don’t tell them.
Anyway, I wasn’t completely caught off guard by this unusual onslaught of symptoms. I had experienced them shortly after my husband and I began our life together. Just as we were starting to settle in, I started sleeping in later, and feeling mysterious pains. I blamed it on our new mattress, and our mismatched schedule. But shortly after that, hubby and I talked it out and put a name to our shared ailment.
Lazy Butt Syndrome. LBS. Turns out the two of us had gotten comfortable (lazy). He was fresh out of the Navy. I was fresh out of college. We had exchanged our very active lifestyles for laying on the couch, eating popcorn, and watching rented movies from Blockbuster (we’ve been married a little while.) Anyway, all that laying around and snacking went straight to our rear ends (hence the B in LBS).
So I recognized these symptoms pretty quickly. Plus an old lady at church, made sure to point out that I had gained weight. All it would take is a quick hop on the scale to confirm the diagnosis.
So Tuesday morning, I got up, went to work and made my way to the scale. I dreaded the diagnosis as much as I dreaded the 4:30 am alarm. And sure enough, the scale confirmed what I had known all along. I was up 3 pounds from before the holidays.
Not bad for a girl who baked a cake just so she could eat some left over german chocolate frosting. Pretty good for a girl whose fitbit only clocked about 5000 steps in a 5 day period. (I didn’t even bother to put it on for 3 of those days.) But not so good for a girl trying to get beach body ready for her 15th anniversary.
So join me in my fight against this debilitating disease. After i polish off this cake…and that last bottle of wine.