Awww crap.

Ever have a Bridget Jones moment?

Yeah, well as neurotic and obnoxious as that character is, I sometimes suspect there's a tiny bit of her in everyone that has a vagina.

So, since my boyfriend, Michael, started Army flight school I've had to nearly physically restrain myself from blurting out: "My boyfriend's a pilot, you know!" on more than one occasion (Like in the second movie/book--there's a book, isn't there?--when she keeps saying "my boyfriend is a Human Rights Lawyer, you know!" with that horrid pinched look on her face. Or maybe that's just Renee Zelweger's face, I dunno.).

What the hell? What kind of vapid, no self-worth having female brags about what her boyfriend does for a living? And why do I feel the need to brag about this job, and not the one that actually paid him well? Sure, it's not weird to be proud of a loved one achieving something as difficult as grasping and applying the concept of helicopter flight. But feeling the need to rub it in is stupid. I'm stupid. Being a Pilot at Ft. Rucker is like being a private on Parris Island. So who even would care?

I didn't watch that movie. I swear. Shut up.

In other ramblings, I'm feeling really, really worn down (again). I was doing so well that I had only one bad day in two weeks. I knew it wouldn't last, but I was actually getting used to feeling good and having some energy. I even went job hunting while in my delusion of wellness.

I haven't even been able to take a shower standing up for the past 4 days. So if anyone calls back, I'm probably gonna have to say "Just kiddin'!"

The douchebag rheumatologist I saw last month refuses to see me before May. He told me to "keep exercising".

Oh! Because I never, ever even thought of that before! Ever. Never. Not once. Nope.

Um, hello Dr? I've been seeing different doctors for the past year and a half because things like exercise and even diet changes haven't made me feel any less fatigued. Or did you think I was lying when I told you that even a six-month stint of regular (even vigorous) exercise had only made things worse?

So now I have to find another doctor. Great, because it's been just super fun so far!

Since I can't seem to keep a written diary of when I feel fatigued and when I feel normal, I'm going to attempt to at least make a note of it when I write about stupid stuff that no one except me and possibly my sister would care about in my Blog. I would try keeping track of what I ate, but it would look like this:

• Ben and Jerry's
• Pizza
• coffee
• whole wheat english muffin
• with nutella
• or cream cheese
• cereal
• diet root beer
• coke zero
• more crap that I can't believe hasn't made me a fatty yet
• some recipe I saw and wanted to try. No, I didn't know it was 800 calories per serving.

Yeah.

I'm going to watch the season finale of Frisky Dingo. Again.