All clear

Today was the ole' six-week postpartum checkup.

I was harboring some fears of the appointment. What with the speculum insertion and the poking of the cervix and the checking of the stitches.

But I am happy to report the appointment went well and there were no surprises. My doctor pronounced my stitches healed and my cervix closed and I can now commence with the working out (hooray) and the working (ick).

In light of my new status of a released-from-doctors-care woman, I walked home from the doctor's office with Jack in his stroller. It's about a mile, so I felt very healthy. On the way home, I stopped for a salad for lunch.

Jack had the pasta and a nice glass of Chianti. He asked for an apertif, but I told him it was too early in the day for hard liquor. He cried. And then pooped. He sure showed me who was boss.

But me and my salad were very happy with one another. The healthiness, it cannot be stopped. Of course, I had to make some reparations for the brunch I consumed yesterday: chicken, waffles, mac-n-cheese, mashed potatoes and cinnamon rolls. There was some fruit in there too. So that was somewhat good for me.

Considering I have 7 pounds left to lose, I shall not be partaking of meals like that one any more. OK, I am lying. Out and out lying. Like I’m turning down chicken and waffles when they’re offered.