Another thing gone

Jerry's cellphone number disappeared today.  Seamus and I went to a Verizon store and had them cancel Jerry's service... the service on the Droid he got a few days before he was hospitalized.  He was going to use the Droid to surf ("smurf," as he'd say) the Web when he was at home recovering from chemo treatments and didn't feel up to getting out of bed, and he was going to use the newly added text messaging to keep in touch with me at the shop on days when he didn't feel up to coming to work.  While he was recovering.  Getting stronger, regaining his health.

I wrote that cellphone number into my address book in 1998, when I met Jerry.

I bought myself a new address book a few weeks ago.

And now I have a hardly-ever-used Droid to put on eBay.

(And the Verizon store was having computer problems, so sorting out all the service plan stuff took a long time.  But that's okay... you want painful things to last as long as possible, don't you?)

In other news, binge eating was halted as of yesterday morning, and I'm back to counting Weight Watchers points again.  I figure I've gained something like 5 pounds since Jerry died, which puts me at 3 pounds over where I want to be, which doesn't sound like a lot, and isn't, except for my tendency to gain weight right in the middle of my body... which means my pants are feeling tighter around the waist, and I am not going to go out and buy bigger pants.  I find it sort of fascinating that body image anxiety seems to be so strong in me that it can outlast the worst thing that could possibly happen to me.  But I guess it's a good thing, or, given the way I've been eating since 13 June, I'd probably end up with sweatpants being the only things that fit me if I didn't rein it in.

I started up my DVD workouts again yesterday as well.  I had thought that exercising would be a good way to get out of my head a bit, which was just more magical thinking on my part - especially since the DVD I did yesterday is one Jerry would occasionally do part of with me, so every move brought memories of him working out next to me, and Leslie Sansone's chanting of "Walk, walk, walk" reminded me of Jerry's slightly amused/ slightly exasperated imitation of her.  Tonight I'll go back to what we called "the Shred," the Jillian Michaels torture DVD - Jerry only tried that one once, and decided it definitely wasn't for him.

A definite case of "fake it 'til you make it" - maybe at some point I'll care more about all this.  But going through the motions of something physical is at least doing something physical.