Things are winding down after a festive weekend. Two-and-a-half days, two ceremonies, one reception, two happy hours, two lunch celebrations, one big extended-family dinner, one night out at the bars, one night out at the ballpark, one museum, two shopping malls, lots of wine and cheese, lots of photos. I am now a MASTER. You guys really oughta start showing me a little more respect around here.
There was a little bit of deja vu happening, since I went to this same graduation at the same university just two years ago for my bachelor's, but it was just a lot more fun this time around. I was not in pain, for one, unlike summer of 2013 (the chili pepper miracle cream didn't come around until October of that year). Plus I was less obsessive about weight stuff this time around, which makes life generally easier. And I don't know, I just felt more confident and at ease and excited. I really enjoyed the whole pomp and circumstance atmosphere, I liked rocking my gown and tam, plus the Master's students got sweet hoods and sat in the front row (SUCK IT, UNDERGRADS). I had a lot of fun taking my parents around to meet everyone, drank champagne with my advisor, and took about a million pictures with my family and friends.
I was expecting the food situation to be stressful, but things have actually been totally manageable. Even, dare I say, enjoyable. I think I am really starting to appreciate how much the daily weighing and calorie-tallying was dragging me down. Technically I still count calories in my head, but have been much less rigid and meticulous about it since I quit actually writing down my intake every day. I'm much more willing to be fuzzy about actual numbers, and as a result am much more flexible about what I put in my mouth. Who knew? I had wine with dinner the other night which is one hundred percent normal for most 24-year-olds but still a HUGE struggle for me, considering alcohol=liquid calories on top of the already scary restaurant meal. But, I mean, it was my damn party.
Dad and Big Bro went home this morning, but Mama Bear is staying with me for a few more days. And she will grocery shop and cook for me and spoil me rotten. It's a rough life.