Today, my doctor tells me I am officially underweight with a BMI of 17.6 (it was hovering around 19 in May). She says I am officially putting myself at risk of heart problems because my body will start rerouting energy from protein - heart muscle - in order to function.
...Whoops. >.>
I am going to try and unclench the excessively tight sphincter of my mind and fix this.
Um, in happier news, Chloe's friend, Melissa got me a Pottermore account last week! We spent the weekend celebrating - by reading copious amounts of fic and watching The Pacific. (IDK if I could personally ever get into the fandom. The series was brilliant, from what I saw - the battle scenes! characterization! holy gut-wrenching perfection, batman! - but I kept getting thrown out of the loop because on the one hand, the Japanese were "the enemy", and on the other, they're my grandparents...).
Something else I learned recently: conscientiousness runs very strongly in my family. In Ye Days of Olde, when my dad, my uncle and my Oma were new to Canada, my dad had a job as a paper boy, delivering newspapers around Toronto's St. Clair E./Birchmount area, which was not the nicest part of town. One morning, he got off the elevator in one of the apartment buildings on his route and discovered a large pool of blood in the hallway, seeping out from under one of the doors. Probably, most people would have turned around and called it a day. Not my dad. In his own words: "I thought to myself, people need their daily newspapers!"
I feel like that somehow explains so much about my family.
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