Not having the best time

So I've only been taking half doses of my antidepressant for more than a week, and I feel like shit. It was necessary because Clayton ran out of his and I was sharing my prescription with him till I had no more to share. He goes to the doctor next week and I can refill mine next week as well, so it's temporary, but for the time being I'm sad and crabby all the time, not aided at all by the fact I've got PMS. Oddly, despite the PMS I have lost three pounds in the last 5 days, which I'm sure isn't healthy. I think the thyroid medicine is finally kicking in, because even accounting for dieting and exercise, there's no other way I should have lost so much so quickly. I'm not exactly complaining... I've been struggling with my weight for years, to the point that I was making myself throw up after every meal for a year and a half. My husband was pretty dense about it... I'm mysteriously sick all the time, but only after I eat? Come on. I wasn't covering my tracks that well. But it kept my weight pretty constant, and I even lost a little. Once I stopped doing it though, I ballooned. That's the problem with bulemia. Even though you don't necessarily go on "binges", you're still used to eating whatever you want without many consequences weight-wise, and then when you stop you still think you can eat whatever you want with no consequences. I had a fast food problem, and more than that, before we left I had a serious problem with Dunkin Donuts. I would have the largest possible iced mocha, a breakfast sandwich, and at least one donut, and that was if I only went once a day. I was unemployed and I filled my hours and coped with my stress by eating. Odd thing is, now that we're not constantly poor I don't feel the need to eat fast food every day, let alone twice or three times a day. That's saved us a lot of money too, to be sure. Back home, pretty much the only way we survived was Clayton bringing home free food from work. We never cooked at home. In the beginning of our relationship we were always going out to restaurants, every night. You can't keep track of how many calories you're taking in when you're constantly eating out. Geez, I sound so obsessed with my weight. That's not healthy. If I somehow miraculously keep losing weight at the rate I am though, I might try wearing a two-piece for my planned photo shoot in New York. Granted, both my swimsuits I have are technically two pieces, but they're both tankinis and not really the look I want to have. Plus one has a skirted bottom, and that's definitely NOT cute. I want to go look at bathing suits later today, but it seems like it would be a waste of money in two possible scenarios: A) I buy one the size I am now and lose weight to the point it doesn't fit, or B) I buy one that's too small now and fail to lose enough weight for it to fit right. I'm probably going to have to get new lingerie too, as that's supposed to be part of one of the shoots and I don't really have what the photographer had in mind on hand at the moment. What else exciting is going on? Well, having my hours cut at work sucks, but at least it's temporary, so I can probably tough out a couple lousy paychecks. Last night, with the exception of the new assistant manager being a bitch and a know-it-all, as usual, things were pretty harmonious and ran pretty smoothly. I definitely noted the absence of the bitchiest girl I work with last night, as I'm pretty sure that's the reason things were as harmonious as they were. The assistant manager though... she thinks she knows better than I do how to do my job, when she's the one (while I'm off doing something important like getting ice) getting drinks sent back for being made wrong and stocking WAY too much of certain beers in my already overcrowded beer cooler. Seriously, MGD is NOT so popular that I need 10 of them stocked. And who mistakes tonic water for club soda? And she orders me in a passive aggressive way to do this and that AT THIS MOMENT when it's not even remotely imperative that it be done so urgently. I know how to do my job. I do my job well. I could do my job just as well (and with much less under-my-breath mutterings and hostility) if she weren't constantly up in my business. I try to deal with it with the least possible confrontation, but I don't like being treated like a five year old. Most the time I hold my tongue and just stay quiet around her so I don't risk saying something she could construe as insubordination. Then she asks me why I'm being so quiet. Perhaps she hasn't noticed that I'm not quiet around anybody else. I'm downright chatty. But my mom told me if you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all, and I have nothing nice to say to her. Would I love to tell her how dumb and absolutely infuriating she is and that she doesn't know the ins and outs of doing my job so she should just shut the fuck up and let me work in peace (as much peace as I can have on a busy night)? Hell yes I would. But I also like having a job. She's not worth losing my job over.