Facial dandruff and other health related issues

Yes, people, I have facial dandruff.  I mean, can things really get any worse?  I've had this little rash above my lip for a little over a week - too high to be a cold sore, but too red to ignore.  When I had my blood work done last week I asked the doctor to take a look.  Yes sir, it's facial dandruff caused by, you guessed it: STRESS and possibly the Texas air.  Treatment, "Buy some intensive formula Head&Shoulders and put it on your face for 5 to 7 minutes every day."  How much am I loving this??????  I've only treated the spot twice, because that stuff burns, and I suppose it's getting better.  You should see "the site" after aerobics, when I'm sweating like a pig and I'm all flushed from...well, the aerobics.  The thing looks like a landing pad for a helicopter. JOY.

Oh, did you notice I had blood work done?  Wondering about the results?  I am sad and ashamed to report that in six months I have lost only 5 pounds and 6 points on my overall cholesterol.  AND, I ADDED 4 points to my LDL - the bad cholesterol!!!!!  What am I doing to my body??????  The doctor prescribed a grade B cholesterol drug that I am to take along with a strict(er) diet and report back to him in 3 months.  The grade B means that it is kind of okay to take if I get pregnant (Papabear is still doing research on that).  Lucky for me, that whole "getting prego" bit won't be happening for 3 months. (The gloves come off, so to speak, January 1, 2009.)  Anyway, in my current state, I am just asking for gestational diabetes.  

I know, you'd think that alone would be inspiration to lose the weight I need to be healthy.  It sucks to be a stress-eater.  Do you know what I did after that first day of work?  Baked blueberry muffins...from scratch, they were quite good.  AAAAAAACCCCCCKKKK!!!!  See what I mean?

And, so, I begin again, an attempt at a healthier me.  And do you know what's sad?  The job thing is actually good because that is three and a half whole hours I CAN'T eat.  Pathetic..but seriously, I should have one of those ankle-things prisoners have and shock myself every time I go near food.  

Well, off I go...

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