I finally went to the doctor on Monday.

Yup. After 3, almost four, weeks of diet and consistant exercise along with careful monitoring of my blood pressure and weight it appears that I'm a major physically unfit fuck up. Instead of losing weight on a steadily decreasing meal plan, I've gained 7 pounds. Instead of my blood pressure being unsually low (which is normal for me) I'm in the pre-hyper... hyper... yeah well it's pre-high blood pressure. Couple that with major anxiety attacks, overwhelming sadness and listnessness (is that a word?) a trip to the doctor's was long overdue.

And, in a nutshell, I hate my doctor. I hate him for being somewhat honest with me. For telling me that I'm fat, I eat too much (on a 1300 calorie meal plan, imagine that), I exercise too little and if I don't put an end to it all and change my lifestyle I will end up in the exact same state as all the other unhealthy black women in America. Fat, black and dead before I hit 60. So he told me eat as little as possible, work out as much a possible and my blood pressure will decrease naturally. As I gain weight my blood pressure will rise; as I lose it should fall. He said I'm too young for medication and too healthy to not work out more than I do.

And he prescribed Prozac.