Ouch.

I had my annual physical today. Blood pressure is still low; weight is still high. I needed a tetanus shot and they threw in diphtheria and pertussis for good measure. My autism-mama self didn't like the idea of three vaccines in one shot, but I figured my immune system is probably well-developed by now and could handle it.

My doctor, an exceedingly mild-mannered and lovely woman, gently broached the weight topic.

"You've gained some weight..." she began, gently.

"I know, I know, and I hate it," I said. "I'm working on it."

We discussed medical reasons that could be at least partly responsible for the weight gain, and tossed around some ideas, like increased exercise and possibly consulting with the on-staff nutritionist, that could help. I left the office full of resolve.

For the past few weeks, it's seemed like I could either watch my diet or exercise regularly. Today I decided I have to do both. I did mostly OK with it -- fitting in a quick workout before my doctor's appointment and managing the intake pretty well. I haven't stepped on the scale in a couple of weeks because I've been afraid to, but I will definitely get on it next week, no matter how painful it might be.

This is my last-ditch effort to do this on my own. Next stop: the nutritionist's office.