Never underestimate the power of bipolar depression

A relatively low dip brought me to my knees at work yesterday morning and—aside from a brief rally at dinner last night—I've been sound asleep for more than 24 hours. Full shutdown notwithstanding, this is actually progress; as little as six months ago, my shutdowns lasted around five days. This episode, however, comes with flashes of deep, excruciating pain from my right hip to my right foot. Diagnosis still TBD.

Here ends my boring medical update. To thank you for your time, I leave you with the conversation I dread having with my trainer:

I'm really tired of the tummy my bipolar meds gave me

REALLY tired of it. Cutting back on pop and sugar and fatty foods hasn't changed it. Taking HydroxyCut hasn't changed it. Adding a brutal abs workout to the end of every workout hasn't changed it. So I just hired a trainer. We meet for the first time in 10 minutes. And she's a girl. A girl covered in tattoos and piercings and filled with the kind of badassery I need to whip my midsection - and everything else - into badass shape. And I can't wait to get my ass kicked by a girl!