Not yet there, it seems

 Went to the dietician this morning, weighted at 57.5kg (126.7lbs, BMI 19.9).

While my BMI could be lower, I have honestly developed a certain level of muscles over the last 6 months. I may not be able to do pull-ups, but I can do unassisted chin-ups (ok, 3 or 4 depending if I'm rested or not, but still).

This to say, I honestly expected to receive a "maintenance" diet, a pat on my shoulder and a goodbye.

Instead, he said I should try to reach 55kg (121.2lbs - BMI 19). And gave me another appointment in 40 days. I am kind of wondering (provided I meet the target) if at that point he'll say that 53 would be even better considering then the Christmas season brings a lot of food, and maybe then why not make it 50?

I'm probably nasty, but I was honestly surprised.

On a different topic, we're having an Indian summer and I spent the weekend wearing short jeans, thinking it was likely the last chance to show off the legs. Husband muttered all the time (he would prefer me all covered up in baggy clothes of course), but honestly it was too warm for anything else. I don't recall ever such a warm weather in October, but considering I go to work by bike, I'm not complaining. At least we've had sex over the weekend, after a dry spell of September.

Ok, I'm dancing around what's going on. The last few days have been a bit difficult, with a friend from work who called me crying after stepping out of an MRI (I knew he was going for it) where they found him a prostrate cancer, my neighbor visiting yesterday after she's had a brain tumor removed two weeks ago, and a client who called me on Friday to announce he'll be off for a while for pretty much the same reason. Don't get me wrong, I'm extremely grateful that Husband, I and our families are overall in good health, and I'm also humbled that these people trust me to talk about private matters. It's just I struggle to find words to console them, I wish I could do more although I perfectly know the best I can do is to listen to them when they need to talk to someone.

Finally, I have not been writing about Mischief but he's not disappeared from my life. As Bath suggested, I'm clearly the emotional crutch and he writes me any time he's not home. I wish I could say I don't think about him, but that would be a lie.

Song for this post: "Say it right" by Nelly Furtado