God Works Through Gallstones

I did not want to have a gallbladder attack.

Not the first time.  Or the second time, a few months later.  I really didn't want the third one when I was eight months pregnant and already miserable.  And I totally didn't want the last awful one that brought me literally to my knees in the bathroom for fifteen hours. 

After that last miserable night, I definitely did not want to not eat a single thing for four days.  I did not want the blood tests or the CT scan with its IV that the tech warned me would feel like I was peeing my pants.  (Side note:  He was pretty round, had a white beard and glasses AND was abnormally cheerful at eight in the morning.  Ya think Santa works in health care?)

When all the dust settled and it was established that my vital organs would live to see another day...I still did not want to give up my Coke or my deep dish pizza or my yellow cake with chocolate frosting or my mid afternoon candy bar snack....or....or...or....

BUT...

I do want to be the best role model and the healthiest mom that I can be.  I want to be active with my kids and not worry about health issues.  I want my kids to grow up with a healthy relationship with food and a good self image.  I dont want Baby Girl to follow in my fatty footsteps.  Soooooo....

God sent me gallstones.  And said get your ass moving.  

So I did.  I am down 17 pounds since the beginning of December and feel better than I have in a long, long time.  I haven't had any pop or fast food (except a plain hamburger for Sunday morning McDonald's tradition) or pizza delivery for over a month.  It was hard...and I may or may not have been crabby, ask my husband...but I feel a giant sense of accomplishment that I have every intention of continuing.

Thanks for the ass kicking, God.  Next time maybe though, consider a kindly stranger message, would ya?  I promise to listen this time.