Weigh in day! I woke up this morning, wiped the sleep from my eyes, ran to the bathroom, took care of business with the toilet, carefully looked around for my six year old son, confirmed he was still snug as a bug in his bed, ripped off all of my clothes (including my scrunchy- what's that weigh? an ounce?) and got on the scale.
And for the very first time since I started this plan I actually gained a half a pound! Yes indeed. After shoveling two million tons of snow with my bare hands (ok, so I had on gloves, but I'm prone to hyperbole), I somehow managed to gain half a pound this week. I should have taken that as the karmic hint that I was just not meant to ever get out of bed this morning. But, oh no. Not me. I can't take a hint when I see one.
So I showered and began to hunt and gather in my closet for some clothes. Not much is fitting well these days. I found an old pair of size 12 P black Daisy Fuentes slacks that haven't seen my thighs in years, and tried them on. They fit, so I put them on with a blouse, and off I went after first throwing some meal packets in my purse to prepare at the office later. I was driving to the office, all happy happy, when I had an epiphany......Why am I driving to the office???
I'm supposed to be in Court!! Dear god. I'm supposed to be in court!
So I turn the car around, and drive to court. Now I'm freaking because I'm a little late (but not much), and I'm not wearing a suit (although I am wearing something somewhat professional).
At this point in the morning, I've had no chance to get in a meal. I figure, no problem! I'll be outta here in a jiffy! This isn't my file. I'm just covering it for the trial attorney on the file! The judge will let me go, right?
The best laid plans of mice and men, my friends, the best laid plans....
I get to the courthouse, running twice as far as I'd normally have to because I forgot my repelling gear at home and I've got to navigate around the 2 story mountains of snow all over the parking lot. I finally make it to the building, go through the metal detectors and hustle my size 12P ass (or size 10P ass, depending on the cut) up to the court room.
I ask a lawyer if the calendar has been called. He gives me the once over and says "are you a lawyer?".
I give him the "No-I-just-like-to-walk-around-courthouses-looking-for- random-calendar-calls-to-listen-to" look and I reply "I'm not dressed like one, but yes, indeed, I am actually a lawyer". He winces and looks away.
I jump down to the front of the courtroom where the clerk is waiting, just in time to be told, "Oh, your trial is assigned to Judge X in room 400". Joy. Judge X is one floor up, on the complete other side of the building which you cannot get to unless you go back down to the first floor, and walk (or run, in my case) to the other side, then take the elevators back up. Oh efficiency, your name is not the Bergen County Courthouse!
Back up to the fourth floor. Whew. Sign in. Whew. And therein begins the waiting game.
At this point, I'm starting to get hungry, but all my meals are in the car. At about 10:00 I'm called in to "conference" the case. I do so, and then explain to the judge that I'm covering for the trial lawyer, and that I've got to leave the courthouse within enough time to get back home for my son at 3. The judge says something not so promising, like "we'll see". I sat. I waited. I shmoozed other lawyers. I checked facebook on my phone. I stared at my feet. If I could have seen my bellybutton I would have contemplated it. I sucked in my stomach. I puffed out my stomach. Tick tock. Tick tock. Watching a game of televised golf would have been more mentally stimulating.
At 1:00 PM, with a raging headache and nothing in my system but coffee and splenda with a splash of half and half, I give up and run back out to the car to get my shake. I drink it in the parking lot. I also grab a Cappuccino packet, and throw it in my bag, and then race back up the the court.
I zip over to the cafeteria one floor down from where I'm supposed to be, and I get a cup of hot water and a packet of tylenol. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I mix my cappuccino into the hot water (not advised, but you make do with what you have under the circumstances) and "drink". Make that more like chew. I sit there telling myself that I will eat the lumps, because I'm at that point where I'm about to go all renegade chimp and gnaw off the face of the person next to me. My head is now booming. I gulp down the Cappuccino, and then hop back up one more floor to see the judge yet again.
At 2 PM the judge finally "releases" me. They couldn't start the trial; my adversary was already engaged in another trial. This we knew at 9:30, but American justice is a little slow on the uptake.
I then race to the parking lot, again running around the maze of a courthouse, and going twice as far to get around the snow mountains to reach my car. At 2:30 I make it back to the office, grab some papers, call another lawyer, yell at him, give my secretary instructions, and race back out of the office to get home in time for my son.
Now, with all that said, I'd like to address that extra half pound that was tipping the scales this morning, and not in my favor. Yeah, you, I'm talking to you. After all that running around and stressing out today, there is no way you should still be here. If you aren't gone by tomorrow, I'm going to be seriously irritated. I might even have to do the unthinkable, like, exercise. Don't make me open up a can of whoop ass on you. You haven't seen me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry. So, for the love of all that is holy, just leave quietly. Thank you.