High noon at the blood pressure corral

Beginning on Monday, I have been instructed to monitor my blood pressure daily, then report back to Dr. Ben with the results.

To get ready, I ordered Chinese food for dinner and stocked up on the makings of some very nice gin martinis. Instead of going to the gymnasty yesterday, I went to the Slots to blow two hundred bucks and raise my pressure to blood curdling levels. By the time, I got home, my head was swimming and the beaded sweat had frozen to my forehead.

Today, again, instead of going to exercise, I went to the laundromat.

I'm considering making chocolate fondue for dessert.

Maybe a nice margarita, extra salt.

Dr. Ben might say that I'm being a bad patient.

Oh, contraire, mon ami.

I am the very best patient.

I am getting in all the bad behavior before the blood pressure tests. Starting tomorrow, it will be back to lentil soup and the treadmill. The martinis will have been drunk, the Chinese food consumed, and the cupboard will have been re-stocked with all manner of broths of the low sodium variety, beans, and sodium-reduced tomatoes.

The Haagen Daas ice cream will no longer smile at me from the freezer. Instead, frozen yogurt pops will have their day. The barbecue will be put down in favor of a crockpot full of heart healthy soups.

And the liquor cabinet will be as bare as a Byward Market stripper.

I know how to do this.

I am the Yoyo Queen of New Orleans, the dogged dieter, the Girl who Kicked the Seven Day Merlot habit.

As Dr. Phil has said, this won't be my first rodeo.

I take on this new challenge with gusto, like the prisoner suddenly given a reprieve from a death row.

Why?

Let me explain.

I am a person who, left to her own devices, would kill herself with the pleasures offered by this wonderful world.

I have no brake. I have an addictive personality.

The only way I've survived this long is to know when to hold 'em. I take myself to the very brink like Thelma and Louise, but have the good sense to listen to the nice police officer who can show me the way back.

Truth be told, I need someone in authority to tell me what to do.

I've been given the tour of the death row cells and I've decided to change my ways.

Now listening to this, you might think I'm a candidate for the Biggest Loser, a 300 pounder who drinks Starbucks caramel macchiatos for breakfast and scarfs Big Macs, extra sauce, for lunch.

I am not that person. I'm overweight but not obese. I'm very active. I eat well.

I just have a few bad habits, that's all.

Unfortunately, that's all it takes for a middle aged woman to have high blood pressure.

I don't want to take pills. I also don't want to be a drooling vegetable sitting in the corner because I drink too much and have a penchant for salty sauces.

Oh, my. Poor Rose. Look at her sitting there. Wipe her mouth, won't you? She was always wonderful, wasn't she? So full of life. Now look at her. She's been reduced to a bobblehead.

That's not me.

No way.

I'm not only going to make Death Wait.

I'm going to boot his ass out the door.

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Rose's Cantina

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