Stress Makes Us Fat
You know how you are suppose to learn from your mistakes?
Yeah, well, ummm, that's a pretty rare occurrence in my little world.
Oh sure! I get it ... eventually. I just need to take the scenic route to get there. Without the assistance of a map. Or GPS. Or stopping at the proverbial gas station to get direction.
I suppose one could infer that I am pig-headed.
Okay, perhaps not everyone would infer this.
Probably just my mom. And my sister.
I tend to be a wee-bit of a worrier.
I come by it naturally.
Still, my mind goes THERE, and it takes an act of Congress or God to bring it back from the brink of utter and complete destruction of the whole, entire world. Yeah, that bad.
I might, possibly, perhaps, maybe be a wee-bit of an over-exaggerator as well ...
So, when I received an email from my boss last night, my mind immediately went THERE ... you know ... to the aforementioned brink of utter and complete destruction of the world.
At 3 a.m., I was awakened by the need to go to the bathroom and the desire to further fret and worry over the email and what it might mean for my immediate future. I tossed and turned and before it was all said and done, I was envisioning myself in the soup lines some where, homeless, pushing my grocery cart with Emmy the Cat sitting jauntily on top of the huge mound of Earthly possessions I'd managed to get into the cart.
It's a gift, people. That is all I'm saying ...
I entered the building at 6:30 this morning, armed with tons of caffeine and a foreboding deep within the bowels of my being and with some trepidation, I opened my email.
"Megan, no big deal. I just need you to come down and sign something for me. Thanks."
Sign something!? I was in the HOMELESS SHELTER SOUP LINES three hours ago! SIGN SOMETHING!?
NOTE TO SELF: Reading work emails after 5 p.m. can be detrimental to one's healthy and mental well-being. Pretty sure that two-hour session of cortisol-induced brain work has garnered me some extra weight gain.
Yeah, well, ummm, that's a pretty rare occurrence in my little world.
Oh sure! I get it ... eventually. I just need to take the scenic route to get there. Without the assistance of a map. Or GPS. Or stopping at the proverbial gas station to get direction.
I suppose one could infer that I am pig-headed.
Okay, perhaps not everyone would infer this.
Probably just my mom. And my sister.
I tend to be a wee-bit of a worrier.
I come by it naturally.
Still, my mind goes THERE, and it takes an act of Congress or God to bring it back from the brink of utter and complete destruction of the whole, entire world. Yeah, that bad.
I might, possibly, perhaps, maybe be a wee-bit of an over-exaggerator as well ...
So, when I received an email from my boss last night, my mind immediately went THERE ... you know ... to the aforementioned brink of utter and complete destruction of the world.
At 3 a.m., I was awakened by the need to go to the bathroom and the desire to further fret and worry over the email and what it might mean for my immediate future. I tossed and turned and before it was all said and done, I was envisioning myself in the soup lines some where, homeless, pushing my grocery cart with Emmy the Cat sitting jauntily on top of the huge mound of Earthly possessions I'd managed to get into the cart.
It's a gift, people. That is all I'm saying ...
I entered the building at 6:30 this morning, armed with tons of caffeine and a foreboding deep within the bowels of my being and with some trepidation, I opened my email.
"Megan, no big deal. I just need you to come down and sign something for me. Thanks."
Sign something!? I was in the HOMELESS SHELTER SOUP LINES three hours ago! SIGN SOMETHING!?
NOTE TO SELF: Reading work emails after 5 p.m. can be detrimental to one's healthy and mental well-being. Pretty sure that two-hour session of cortisol-induced brain work has garnered me some extra weight gain.
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