What an interesting week. First off -- and let’s get this outta the way early so I’m not worrying about it -- I weigh, are you guys ready for this shit? 265. Again. I know, I know, whatever, but I’m almost positive there’s progress being made. Obviously non-scale related progress, but all the same, I’m feeling pretty alright about myself. My boxing workouts continue to be amazing, and while I’m still unsure exactly how much exercise I’m getting from dodgeball, I sure sweat. A lot.

My thumb is still tender as hell, something I was acutely reminded of last night when I forgot to tape it up and tried to catch one of those foam fucking balls they give us. My personal mantra of “Jungle cats wish they could be this agile” was immediately replaced by “Don’t cry in public, don’t cry in public.” I should stress that this was entirely in my head -- the only thing I could manage to vocalize was a soft mewling which I’m hoping sounded enough like a fat guy wheezing that nobody noticed. 

Of course, this being me and my hand, that wasn’t the only thumb idiocy I had to deal with last night. Not two hours later I was about to open to leave the bar bathroom when somebody pushed it in from the other side, right into my idiotdigit. The dude was very nice and asked if I was okay, before pointing out that he was always careful to open that door slowly so people don’t get hit. I managed to reply with a cool, calm “No problem, it’s chillers bro,” a phrase that probably loses most of its authenticity when your face is screwed up like something from a ghost story.

It’s all fine, I’m no stranger to thumb danger. No, what really got to me was after I got home last night. I was walking through a parking lot and my foot lost its shit on me. The fucking thing “Twanged.” I don’t know if it actually made a twanging sound, or if I just felt it. It might just be my misery-addled brain fucking with me. Either way, a “Twang” is right up there with “Self-destruct sequence initiated” on the list of “Sounds your body should never make.”

Remember when you were a kid and adults used to yell at you whenever you tried to jump down the stairs by holding onto the railings? Turns out that wasn’t a game but a valuable life skill, and right now my primary mode of transportation at the moment.

I ate a lot of food this week. Like, over two pounds of it. Don’t wince, it was lettice. Baby arugula, to be specific, and it was fucking delicious. I have no idea what started this kick, but since most of my uncontrollable cravings usually revolved around food wrapped in cheese, I’m gonna ride this one into the ground.