My Paper Heart-Part III

Part I
Part II

The day of my surgery, I woke up at 4am. I loved on my doggies for a bit, before slipping on loose pants & a simple shirt. I had my husband draw smiley faces with a Sharpie on the bottoms of my feet, just in case anyone needed some humor in the OR. My hubby drove me, with the radio turned down low. We sat in comfortable silence; what could we really say?
I didn't want to think about my fears, about the "worst that could happen", about the risks or the dangers. I didn't want to think that I might not be "okay" when I woke up, or that the surgery might not work. If I wasn't sure before, my heart solidified it just five days prior, by doing it's "thing" just one more time, a last hoorah, a tough kick in the ass.
I watched the sun rise as we drove over the Trinity River, creeping up through the buildings. I suddenly felt at peace, prepared, calm.
"If something happens....." I began.
"Don't." My husband.
*****
We sat in the surgical waiting area, with at least 20 other people. The room was quiet, but screaming and swirling with all the fears, hopes, and terrors of us all. There were people there in pajama pants & t-shirts, looking far sicker than I.
When they called me back, I squeezed my husband's hand, willing myself to find strength in his body. We walked side by side through the maze of hallways, making our way to a teeny room with two chairs. The nurse asked the usual questions, completed the usual body tasks. Then she inserted the IV, sat me down in a wheelchair, and gave me some of the strongest medication I have ever had. Within 20 or so seconds, I could not move. I felt both heavy and light. I couldn't speak. I gazed at my husband, who asked me if I was drunk. I giggled. Then all is black.
********
I open my eyes as I'm being pushed into the OR. I'm now in a hospital bed, and I have no idea what time it is. I glance to my right, and there is my cardiologist, with the usual quirky look on his face. I find that I cannot speak, and my eyelids are so heavy. I settle for a simple grunt, and then I'm gone.
******
I'm pulled out of this deep dark empty hole by my heart. It is pounding, skipping to it's own song, pumping air instead of blood. As I get closer to consciousness, I begin to want to be conscious. I want to see the computer monitors above my body. I want to see the inside of my heart. I want to see what my doctor is doing. I fight the medication, and open my eyes to a sheet over my head.
I lift my arm and pull the sheet off of my face. It is bright, white, clean. I see the computer monitors, and I move my head just so, trying to see the inside of my heart. My doctor looks up: "What are you doing?"
My response: "What are you doing?"
There are several nurses and an anesthesiologist to my left. I don't remember faces or names, but I remember giggles. A nurse grabs my arm and straps it down. Another person straightens my head, and my doctor says, "You should be out again in 3, 2...."
I am out. He is right.
******
I wake again. This time, my heart is skipping slowly, to it's own rhythm, and it's painful. I am confused. I feel as though my blood is going to pound out of my temples, and my throat feels constricted. This time, the sheet is not on my head, but my arms are strapped down.
"That feels like shit. Can I at least watch?"
More giggles.
My doctor laughs, shakes his head, and says "You amaze me."
I turn to my left and say to the anesthesiologist , "Please don't put me out again."
Darkness.
*******
I come to as they are wheeling me toward recovery. I see my husband standing just outside the doorway of a waiting room, with an unexplainable look on his face. I hear someone tell him I am fine; it was successful, thus far.
When I get to my room, I look at the clock. It's been over 7 hours. I am starving. I am not yet allowed to eat, and I cannot move my feet-doctor's orders. Heavy sandbags are placed on my pelvic area, and every single person that comes in my room reminds me to keep my legs still. But all I want to do is stretch my ankles, which already have arthritis in them. They are stiff and for the love of all that is holy, can I just twist and stretch them for 15 seconds?!
No. I must keep the sandbags on for several hours, in the hopes that the femoral arteries in my legs will heal quickly, without clots. I am also told to keep neck movement at a minimum, so that the carotid artery can heal. I remember thinking they should have told me about this prior to the surgery, she who can never sit still.
I am wide awake and happy go lucky when my family visits, when they tell me I can eat, and when my doctor arrives to tell me that my surgery went well, other than my silly waking up. He tells me that I cannot get out of bed for another 7 or 8 hours, which annoys me, since I hate the catheter and just want to go home. 
I sleep. I eat. I get woken up every other hour by heart monitors and nurses, checking me out. 
I go home the next day. 
****
That was July 2003. 
In July 2005, I gave birth to my beautiful daughter, in the same hospital. When I was released, they wheeled me to the employee elevator to take me to the car. I looked up and there was my cardiologist. I introduced him to my daughter, told him I felt wonderful, and thanked him. 
*****
I still have mitral valve prolapse, but don't need medication for it. My arrythmia seems to have been corrected by the surgery, so far. I am still very conscious of my heartbeat. It still wakes me up in the middle of the night occasionally. I still catch my breath when my mitral valve sticks and flaps and my chest tightens, on instinct. I still watch it closely when I work out, careful to keep it below 190 if I can. There is no pain anymore, no medication, no ER trips in the middle of the night, nothing I need to avoid. I could go back to running 3 miles a day, if I wanted, but I lost the desire, the passion for it, all those summers ago when I was so sick. 
My ob/gyn still gets worried about my heart, and was a bit neurotic about it when I was pregnant. My heart is one of the reasons I ended up having a c-section (besides the HUGE FACT that my girl was stuck). It still gets out of control at times, and I worry. I worry that my heart finally defied me and created a new irregular electrical pathway, one that makes my mitral valve prolape worse. One that makes having another child an even bigger deal. One that will bring any idea of getting healthy to a standstill. One that could spin my life towards another direction, one filled with medications and ER trips and stabbing pain and throat constricting pain.
I pray each night that I will be allowed one more day, week, year, lifetime, with this healthy electrical pathway in my heart. And so far, so good. I am blessed.

POUNCE on this, a*$hole

Since there's been talk of tattoos lately...

So, I've got this tattoo, and I loved it. In fact, I still sorta like it, except I know it needs some touch-up, which I've been meaning to do for, well forEVER. But lately I've been thinking about getting it covered up. Seriously. With a different tattoo, anyway. So, my lovelies, what do you think? What can I get this covered up with?

Because, uh, here's the issue. Apparently every motherhumper besides my kid thinks that they are oh-so funny and they say something along the lines of "Oh, is Tigger giving it to Pooh?" or "Wow, I didn't know they were gay" or "Dude, are they fucking?" And every f-ing time, I have to explain to the stupid people, "Noooooooo, Tigger POUNCES. He POUNCES on everyone. Get your damn mind out of the gutter!"

And frankly, I'm so sick of explaining and getting the sideways glances and giggles. *defeated sigh*

So, I was thinking of getting Pooh covered up, so Tigger is left. Or, maybe I could get something like a cherry blossom branch and they could tattoo lots of white over all of it? Hell, I really need to see a good artist for this one.

Any suggestions, people?

Also, my brother has been hounding me for YEARS to go get another tattoo, and I totally want to, but I want something that means something to me. And I'm thinking of getting something on the top of my foot, or on my shoulder. Squeee!

Learn something new every day

Not that I didn't already know this, but for some reason, it didn't hit me like a ton of damn bricks, until I read it online tonight-

Hey! Guess what??? Did you know that if you have the shingles, you can pass them on to people who have never had the chicken pox??? Like, say, your 3 year old? The 3 year old who was being oh-so sweet and kissing your shingles the other day. Oh, or your friend's 3 year old. Oh, or how about all the 3 year olds at the birthday party you attended on Saturday, where you spent the better part of 2 hours trying not to itch and cry at the same time? Ooooo...how about all the kids at your 3 year old's daycare?

Holy shit, what have I done???

The Itchy & Crabby Show

Yeah, I know that's not the name of that damn show, but it's the name of my damn show right now. Do you know why I am the walking Itchy & Crabby show? I'll tell ya.
I've got the shingles.
Yeah, that's right. The f-ing shingles. Phenomenal.

I woke up early Saturday morning to this stinging pain in my left arm, or rather, on my left arm.

All the way up my left arm, across my shoulder, all over my neck and chest, my chin, my left cheek, all around and all over my lips, inside my mouth, on my tongue, in my throat. And I think there's one in my ear, because it is killing me. And as of this morning, all down my stomach, into my nether regions (yeah, don't even get me started), and currently, I feel it popping up on my thighs. And my scalp. And in my nose.
And...

You get my point.

I am miserable. And it gets worse when I'm out in this 105 degree weather (yeah, I love the summers in Texas, I swear). So all weekend, I stayed in the house until it cooled down. Not fun for my girl, or the dogs. And I'm not crabby overall, just when I can't.stop.itching. which just so happens to be never. And it hurts when I itch it. It stings. It bleeds. It oozes.
Again: fan-fuckin-tastic.

This happened last summer. Except it started on my ankles, and worked it's way up my body. And it last for 2 months. Two steroid shots and 40-odd steroid pills later, and I was still an itchy mess. It's lovely, really. It makes my hubby all warm and excited, let me assure you. He dubbed me the Scabies girl.

This time around, he says I have crabs. Such a funny guy, my hubby.

This happens when I'm under a lot of stress. Or should I say, internal strife? I'm stressing about a lot, but overall, I feel like my stress level is lower than say, 2 years ago? And I didn't have the shingles then, so what the hell?? I just know that I have got to make some changes inside of me, and stop stressing about several things that I cannot control.

***********************************************************

This week is my last week of my 4 week boot camp. I can't miss it. I don't want to miss it. But, at the same time, I know for a fact that my shingles will get 10 times worse when I start sweating tonight. I'm starting to itch more just thinking about it. Fan-fuckin-tastic.
I've already decided that I want to do the next 4 week boot camp as well. 8 weeks of straight hell should make me feel and look healthier, right?

As long as my dear friend stops bringing me lovely fruit tarts, and people stop inviting me to children's birthday parties, complete with the most delicious cupcakes. Oh, and let's not forget the fact that I am totally going to New Orleans at the end of the month, and I am still waiting for someone to convince me that all the beer/wine/tequila drinking I do, coupled with the middle-of-the-night bad food eating, will all be cancelled out by all the ass-shaking I plan on doing on the dance floor.

But I do feel stronger, really. And this morning, I did feel a bit thinner. Then I inhaled. As in, inhaled air, not food. Sigh.

I challenged Lil' Foot's Mom (only because she asked me to-well, not specifically me, but..) to running a mile, and then challenging herself to run that mile better in 4 weeks. I told you guys I ran/walked my mile in 13:32. My goal is to do it in 10 minutes this Thursday, my 4 week mark. So, you see, I can't NOT go to camp this week, just because I have this crap all over my body.
Sigh.

Brief vacation, Boot camp frustration, Extended procrastination

Brief vacation:

My brother came in town Friday for my girl's birthday. I took a break from posting, but not really on purpose. I stayed up way late. I ate pretty healthy, other than the carrot cake we all ate with our hands, and the Italian ice cream we had one night. I played the WiiFit, and laughed until I cried at my brother's skinny ass trying to hula hoop. I drank mimosas and ate at odd times of day. If I didn't lose any weight this week, I have a feeling I know why!

****

Boot camp frustration:

Week two of boot camp has come and gone. Last week I busted my ass to eat well, and really enjoyed it. I did eat a greasy burger and greasier fries on my daughter's birthday, but damn it, that's what she wanted, and I caved. And my belly ached after I ate it. Ick.

Boot camp itself was killer. The scattered trainer has some high expectations, which I suppose is good, but I'm in a world of pain in certain areas of my body! She had us doing crazy things outside...I can't even explain or demonstrate, but my body is screaming. Each day, I can barely hike my ass up into my Jeep (if I just say 'car', my girl corrects me: "Mommy, it's a JEEP, not a car!!!" Get it straight!), and I guzzle a 1.5 liter of water during the hour-long class. I felt my legs give out several times on Friday, and I really did push my body to exhaustion.

That being said, my clothes still fit the same. Or should I say?- don't fit the same. It's pretty bad when you ask your girl on her birthday, 'Baby, what do you want to do?' and her reply is this:

'Mommy, I want to go buy you a shirt and shorts that fit you, okay? Then you feel better, okay?'

HOW SAD IS THAT??? She has seen/heard me pitching a fit in my closet, trying to find something that fits somewhat comfortably and looks somewhat decent.

I have kept up my business with the WiiFit, but I refuse to see what it says I weigh. I just cannot bear the thought of busting my ass in boot camp for 4 weeks and ending up in the same damn position I was in 4 weeks ago.

On a brighter note, I do feel better. I have more energy. I feel stronger in my core, in my stomach, and I can feel all the muscles pulsing and flexing when I move now. This morning, I saw the definition in my thighs and calves. LOVELY if I do say so myself!!!

****

Extended procrastination:

My turn has come to write a chapter for the online book titled Foodie. Check it out! The story is great so far, and the idea of different people writing each chapter is brilliant!

However, I was not saying any of this when I got the email saying it was my turn, and I had up to 2 weeks. I was almost in tears, panicking over something I had not yet written. I wrote the first couple of lines right away, and then left it sitting there on my computer screen for almost two weeks. Every time I opened my laptop, there it was, little cursor blinking, waiting for me to continue. And.I.just.couldn't.

Jeez, talk about getting stage fright, or procrastinating, or whatever. So, I finally finished it, the night before the deadline. Yet I still haven't sent it off to the editor, because....well, I don't know! I will send it tomorrow morning, after I sleep on my 1,036 words, and then, well, I guess you all can critique me, throw rotten salmonella-ridden tomatoes at me, or sing my praises. Whatev. At least it's done and over with!

****

And I would like to add, in run-on sentence form:

I have not won a single PiF contest yet, and hello??? I am leaving comments NON-STOP, and I paid an arm and a leg to mail off the package to my PiF contest winner in frickin' London, and seriously, why the hell is it so expensive to ship something over the damn Atlantic Ocean, and I am still so very jealous of all of you that went to BlogHer, I totally feel like I'm 'outside the circle' again, like I did in high school (how lame is THAT???), and Google Reader can bite my ass because it says I have 282 damn posts to read, and jeez-don't any of you do anything besides write??? While I'm here trying to write 1,000 damn words, with nothing to type, and I bounced my flabby ass off at my girl's birthday party, racing my brother and sister through the obstacle courses, dragging my girl up a 20 foot blow-up ladder only to fly down the slide at eardrum-shattering speed (with the speed burn on my ass to prove it!) and HOLY HELL, I am so old! I was panting and gasping and laughing and sweating, and my girl never once seemed to mind that her mom was being a kid with everyone else instead of doing the 'mom thing' and standing around watching all the kids play.

So there.

Boot camp & WiiFit

I mentioned that I had an odd week, and I did! In a nutshell, my cousin from Colorado (who is 24), came to visit, and he stayed with us. He's a cool guy, and we haven't really spent much time together as adults (or as kids, for that matter), so it was nice to get comfortable with him. However, my father and his wife were with us every day, and that??-Is another whole story. I am more than a little frazzled and frustrated after all that. I just can't even articulate it right now, so instead, I'll tell you all about the other new thing I started this week.

I signed up for a boot camp. It's 4 weeks long, an hour each, and I go three days a week. Actually, I've already figured out that the instructor is a bit all over the place, so I could probably go all 5 days a week, and she wouldn't notice.

Before boot camp started, I had to do the whole pre-evaluation-tell-me-how-fat-and-out-of-shape-I-am. And I knew it would suck. And it did.

So, since I am such a shy little wallflower, I figured I would go for full disclosure, and just let you know all of my stats. The way I see it, maybe one or some of you will get some motivation by my lack of embarrassment, or by my progress over the next 4 weeks. If not, well, then I will at least get some giggles out of you.

Weight- 1--

I don't care what the scale says. Or so I say. I understand that muscle weighs more, so this lovely number may not really go down. I can't really say full disclosure, I guess, because I'm not telling you the exact number. I'll just say that I weigh 19 lbs. more than I did this time last year, and also 19 lbs. more than I did before I got pregnant with my girl.

Total Body Water %- 46.9%

Apparently this is at the bottom of the normal range for healthy women. This should increase as my body fat % decreases.

Body Fat %- 42.48% (58.2 lbs of fat!!)

I can't even believe this one. But I guess I can. I have lost so much muscle tone since I had my girl, and I haven't been consistent enough with my exercising to actually build the muscle tone back up.

My metabolic age- 37
I'm only 30.

Timed mile- I ran 2 laps, and walked 2 laps- 13:32

1 minute worth of push-ups- 35

1 minute worth of sit-ups (not crunches)-33

Monday was my first night, and I loved it! I think I sweated more than I have in a really long time, and I felt my legs get all jello-y and fatigued, but it was great! There are about 16 of us, including my mother.

We only went 2 times this week, because the instructor was sick on Friday. So, I can't really say I feel any progress, other than the soreness of my arms and every single muscle in my stomach.


To add to this, I bought a WiiFit on Thursday! Last night we set it up, and giggled while we made our very own 'Mii'. The WiiFit told me my age is 45, and said my body fat % was at about 24%. Hmmmm. It also informed me that I have shitty balance, which I already knew.

I'm going to go for doing the WiiFit on the days I don't have boot camp. I am really hoping to shave the body fat % down. But what I really want is to feel strong again, capable of anything, and confident. Here's hoping....

Woohoo!

I applied for grad school about 2 weeks ago, and just got my undergrad transcript in the mail Tuesday. I was pretty worried that I would have to take the GRE (ugh!), so I ordered the transcript to figure out if my last 60 hours had a GPA of at least 3.0. It took a bit for me to figure out HOW to do that (I'm a social worker, not a damn mathematician!), but once I did....
WOOHOO! 3.302 for the last 65 hours!!! Yipeeeee! No GRE for me!

Today I received a letter in the mail saying that I was accepted into the Social Work program, but not yet accepted by the university itself. Okaaaaaaay...?? It makes sense, but really, it doesn't, but whatever. I'm going to grad school!!!!! (Woohoo x2!)

In other exciting news, I have officially OFFICIALLY decided that I can no longer do this jelly-belly (Mmmmm, Jelly Belly's!), chunky-monkey (Mmmm, Ben & Jerry's), love handles (ick)BULLSHIT. My weight was consistent in high school, and I gained the freshman 15 my sophomore year (Thankyouverymuch, 18 packs of The Beast, and Taco Bueno runs at 2am, every frickin' night). Need I say why I gained weight and also got my one and only D in school EVER?? (F-ing Statistics class!) I started running, and lost that sophomore 15 pretty easily. I don't even remember stressing about it, or starving myself; it just sorta fell off.

Now? Not so much. After having my girl (almost 3 frickin' years ago! Ohmy.gosh.), I weighed only 5 lbs. more than my pre-pregnancy weight. Within about 6 or 7 months, I was down to my normal size (besides the gynormous boobies). Then, when I moved into my current home, I started to notice that some of my clothes didn't fit as well. I blame it on several things:

-Medication
-Lack of exercise
-Depression
-Changing my eating habits, and then trying to change them back
-Turning 30?
-Chocolate cake
-Creme Brulee
-Homemade ice cream
-Jelly Belly's
-Dulce de Leche ice cream, in little handy-dandy containers, that I can conveniently hide in the door of the freezer, and NO ONE KNOWS.
-Those f-ing 100 calorie snack packs, that DO NOT FILL ME UP. It's like that damn chip commercial-Bet you can't eat just one.
Nope, sure can't.

So, not only are my clothes not fitting well, but I'm so.tired.all.the.time. And my thighs rub together. And my arms, which have always been muscular and big in a good way, are now big in a not-so-good way. I actually see (GASP!) cellulite on my upper arms. And my hips, which have pretty much sucked since I got pregnant, are wayyy out of shape. I mean, why the hell can't my hip swivel like it used to during crazy sex? Why must it cramp up, to the point that my entire leg is rock hard, and I'm crying because I cannot move it-ouchouchouchouch-don't touch me!don't move my legs! help! Ack! My hip, my hip, my hip!!! My jelly belly has transformed into an upper jelly roll. The backs of my thighs look like I got hit with some buckshot. Or hail. Or a carton of cottage cheese. My boobs are even more boobaliscious than usual. My bras are getting a bit, overwhelmed, shall we say? And yes, I realize the assets I have, but they are also such asshats, because they are a pain in my ass.
In all honesty, the last time I got on a scale, I had gained 20 lbs. Which makes me a mere 12 lbs. from my weight when I was 9 months pregnant.
I just can't do this shit anymore. I'm only 30, and my body is screaming 'You are fucking 80! Bahahahaha! How 'bout them apples!'

And yes, I have said this before: I am sick of this shit. And I begin to exercise, and I eat more of the stuff I really love (fruits and veggies). But then life gets in the way, and exercise falls off the priority list (very busy woman, I say!).

What has changed this time, you ask? Well, you could say I had a bit of an eye-opener. As in, my eyes opened, my eyeballs actually fell out, and rolled under the couch with the tufts of dog hair.

I saw a picture of myself that my mom took while in Mexico. I was in my bathing suit, standing on the stairs of one of the pools. And it is not pretty. At all.

Those of you who know me, have all said this: Oh, you look great. Oh, you must wear the weight well. You look the same. You are too hard on yourself.

And I am the first one to tell you that whatever area of your body you are sensitive about will be the first area you look at when you stand in front of the mirror, or look at a photo of yourself.

But this? It is ridiculous.

I just cannot do it anymore.

So I signed up for a boot camp. I start July 14th, 3 days a week, for an hour each day, for 4 weeks. I am so excited. I need to see some results to keep me going. I need to hurt all over, puke, and guzzle a few gallons of water after each workout. I need to be so worn out that I get another burst of energy. I need this.

I also need this to make myself feel better inside. Let's face it: in this country, people focus on the outside. The color of your skin, the brand of clothing you wear, what neighborhood you live in, what kind of car you drive.....
No one takes a good long look on the inside unless they like what they see on the outside. So, I can't really be happy inside, until I am happy with my outside. I know that it shouldn't be that way...I need to embrace my body, accept myself, blah blah blah, insert more psychobabble here. But really, it comes down to this: I don't feel pretty, I don't feel sexy, I don't feel attractive. I don't see those things when I step in and out of the shower. I just don't. I know it could be worse. For sure. But this is 'worse' for ME. So, I'm off to make a change, and hopefully start to like my outsides a bit more in the next month, so I can start to feel comfortable with my insides again.

Bringin' Sexy Back

Pfft. Like that's really me. (Oh, speaking of Sexy, did anyone else see Justin on Jay Leno last night??? Oh.my.holy.hell. Yum.....) I have not felt sexy since, well.....jeez, it's been awhile. Could it be the water butt? The bloating, nausea, sitting on the pot all the time, 20 extra pounds I'm carting around, with cellulite on my arms and how about how my inner thighs rub together way up there at the tippy-top under my who-ha???? How about THAT????

But I did feel close to sexy after I got my hair cut on Friday. 11 inches cut off & donated to Locks of Love. Wooohoooo!

Before:

I have been growing this out since April of 2005. It was above my shoulders at that time. I still can't believe how long my hair was!!!

After:

I'm so confused about the lack of hair in the ponytail. It is actually 11 inches from tip to tip, when you straighten it out, but it has got to be some of the thinnest stuff ever. I straightened my hair the day I went, so she could measure it, but still! If you knew me as a kid, my hair was thick and full. Now?? Not so much.

Sorry that isn't such a clear picture, and my hair looks like I slept on it, because I did. But you get the drift.

I love it! I spend less time in the shower, less time drying and styling, and I don't feel like a mess or a slob. And it's so light! My only complaint is that a few people have told me that the caramel highlights look like gray hair. And I will admit, I haven't seen myself with any blond or caramel highlights since 2003, and it's a bit of an adjustment, but jeez. GRAY HAIR??? Shut your fucking meatface, as she would say.

I'm actually thinking about going back and asking her to add more caramel. Or maybe I should say extra-light brown, so it doesn't come out bleach blonde? Hell, I don't know!

***

Moving right along. I mentioned the fact that I bought an amethyst ring while in Mexico. Again, not sure why the hell every freakin' picture I took was blurry, but I have to post them anyway. Because according to her, as stated right here, 'water butt is no excuse...more pictures, woman!!'

Ask and you shall receive, but I can't guarantee that I won't be on the toilet while giving you what you want (oh, wow. that sounded way bad).

Oh, holy hell, that picture sucks. I'll have to try to shoot that one again later.

It's not very um, conservative. I kept trying it on amongst all these other amethyst rings, and although I found a few more that were more conservative and condensed, shall we say, I kept going back to this one. I lurve it (btw, why do people say that?)

Alright, I can't make it any longer. I'm sleepy. I'm worn out. And all I've done is fight Quickbooks today. Nothing big. But I have no energy. What the frick is wrong with me??? And my mouth is as dry as the Sahara. And my stomach is all 'hey asshole-get ready for this one'.

Oh, and for those of you who might very well comment about this: I took a pregnancy test, JUST IN CASE, and it was negative. And yes, I know you can get a false negative, and yes, I know I should call my doctor, but do I need to explain the lack of health insurance issue again? Or the busy beating the shit out of Quickbooks issue? Or the bold-as-day plain fact that I am scared of what the doctor will tell me?

Ah ha. A post for another day.

Make it stop.....

Well, I've been back for a few days, and I just haven't had the energy to blog. Lots of stuff in my head, a few silly stories to tell, but a ton of other stuff is taking up my time. The 1498 loads of laundry, for example. Or, the layer of dust that somehow accumulated the 8 days I was gone.
Or how about the fact that I had to hunt down the email address to my contact at this writing contest I entered back in October. For cripe's sake, if you say you're going to announce the winners on April 30th, please, for the love of all that is holy, fricking ANNOUNCE THE WINNERS. Instead, they decide to send out an email saying they are going to need another month to make a decision. WTF? I've already been waiting 6 months!!! (I found out today that I am not the winner, nor am I one of the finalists).
Or, could it be that I am being dragged down by my girl, who somehow has decided that only I can change her diaper, bathe her, put her to bed.....I do this stuff all the time anyway, but she is really clingy since we got back. In fact, she was pretty damn clingy on the trip. (Has anyone out there ever gone on vacation with a toddler?? Have any of you actually had enough relaxation on said vacation?? Gahhhh.)
Or how about the mountain of work on my desk? It's pretty much bleeding over to the floor, the file cabinets, under my desk.
OH WAIT! NOW I remember why I haven't been blogging!!!:

I.have.been.peeing.out.my.butt.since.Saturday.

I woke up in the middle of the night Saturday, and heard this rumbling sound. One dog was on the couch with me, the other was on the floor next to me, and it is pretty much the norm to hear their stomachs growling at any given time. And not because I don't feed them. See, one of them will eat the other one's food. Or, one of them will decide he isn't in the mood to eat. And they both always eat grass. I'm not sure what's going on with them, but back to my ass--
So, I thought it was their bellies growling. A few minutes later, I realized it was my belly growling. Actually more of a full-out attack, not just a harmless little growl. And then....
I ran to the bathroom.
Which is where I have spent the majority of every night since then.
And a large part of every day.
I'm not hungry, I'm so thirsty, I feel all bloated, and I just can't make it stop. Kaopectate? Hasn't make a dent in this issue. Imodium? Uh, no.
First off, let me just tell you that I did not get drunk while in Mexico. I was not over-served, not one time. Pretty disappointing, if I say so myself. So, it's not alcohol poisoning.
Also, NO, I did not drink the water in Mexico.
Also, I haven't eaten anything weird or new.....
And then I'm watching the news, and I see them talking about all these damn tomatoes causing bacterial infections. And, if you know me, you know I will eat tomatoes like apples. MMMMMmmmm! But, alas, I have not had any tomatoes since I have been home.
So, I have no idea what the frick is going on in my nether regions, but I am so sick of running to the toilet all hours of the day and night.
Today I had to lock the office door because I was the only one there. How embarrassing would that have been to have some customer or delivery person walk in and look around for me, only to hear me groaning in the bathroom??
I also frantically made a pitstop this afternoon while running errands. Thank goodness for clean grocery store potties!
Yesterday, my girl was sitting on the potty in her bathroom, reading a book, and 'contrating' (that's how she says concentrating) on 'going peepee'. I walked into the kitchen to guzzle some water, when she yelled, "Mommy, I did it! I peed in the potty!"
So, in my excitement, I ran down the hallway towards her bathroom. Which caused me to pee out my butt. In my shorts.
When I got to her bathroom doorway, I told her I would be right back. She asked me why, and I told her I had pooped my pants. Why bother lying, right?
Her response?:
"Mommy, you shouldn't poop in your pants! Go in the potty!"

Gah.

::

So other than my bowel issues, the only other exciting thing I've got going on is that I applied for grad school this week. All I have left to do is my little 4 page essay. Which I may have to write from the comfort of my toilet seat.

::

I swear I'll have pictures posted tomorrow. And silly stories. And I've got a couple of blogs to post that I have been holding onto. Until then, I'm off to go sit on the toilet, which will cause my dogs to stand in the doorway, because how dare I sit on their water bowl?????

Frickin' Muffin top

About 10 days ago, my mother and I jokingly got on the scale at Petsmart. I know, I know, it's for animals, but neither of us own a scale, and we are both gluttons (for punishment) (and candy) (and cobbler).
The f-ing scale pissed me off, but not as bad as I thought. So, it was either accurate, and my doctor's office scale wasn't, or vice versa. Versa Vice. Whatever.
The next day, I decided I was going to try the Fat Smash Diet , since my friend and her brother have had good results. It's not hard. Basically, you cut out all junk food, all meat, and all dairy. Now, I love yogurt and cheese, so that sorta sucks, but other than that, I LOVE fruits and veggies, so this has been super easy! Staying away from sweet stuff has been hard, but every time I thought about chocolate cake or Carvel ice cream, I would think about how good I will look on the beach on Friday if I lose weight. And I did do some minor cheating-I had yogurt yesterday, and a slice of cheese last week, and a few random M&Ms (not sure how there are any random M&Ms around my house, but okay), but other than that, I haven't really missed meat or milk or anything.
So, because I weighed myself initially at Petsmart, I had to go back there. Jeez.
So I went today.
And.....

I was the same f-ing thing!!! WTF?


I'm so mad! I still have a muffin top, and I didn't expect huge results, but seriously, everyone else I know that did this damn diet lost at least 7 lbs. the first week. Me??? NOTHING.

GRRRRRRRR.

Moving on, before I blow a gasket.

What do you think of my snazzy banner? You like, you like??

And they're off!...

This past Saturday, I went to the horse races. It was the first time I had been to the racetrack here in the Metroplex and I was extremely excited. Oh, and it also happened to be $1 day. $1 admission, $1 parking, $1 programs, $1 hotdogs, $1 sodas, and BEST OF ALL: $1 BEER. I'll give you a few seconds to re-read that and catch your breath.


Hi. You're back already?

So, anyway-$1 beer is what drew my husband, and I have to say, it was the first non-child event I've gone to in awhile, so the beer was a big draw for me too. I planned on going Kentucky Derby style (a la Big Floppy Hat), but I ran out of time. So, instead, I pulled on a pretty orange sundress that showed off my best assets , (and no, those aren't actually my assets, but close-I try not to show them off too often, but the fact that they are big isn't such an easy thing to hide!!!), slipped on some flip flops, and off I went! And it was A BLAST! I had such a great time!
And I was sooooo not into big bets, but I came out a winner! I won $28.60! Woohoo! Don't spend it all in one place!!
(But I did-I spent it, along with gift cards, at one of my favorite-est stores, buying clothes for my vacation).
Oh, and while I'm chatting about the store, let me show you what I got: this (and YES, for cripe's sake, I bought a damn tank top to go under it, so my f-ing assets aren't falling out on the table)
and these and these and this!
And yes, I totally realize that I am not a teenager anymore, and nor am I a 'junior' and that I am 30 f-ing years old, but I love this store. And it's cheap. And the shoes are cute, cute, cute!!!

I totally want to go to the Kentucky Derby someday. Before I'm old and gray and decrepit (although my hubby, after a few dozen $1 beers, so lovingly pointed out that he thinks he saw a gray hair on my fuzzy head. WTF? Hello, drink another one. Sheesh, I should have made time to buy the hat, so the fuzzy gray hair wasn't blowing in the breeze. )

(ps. I do not have gray hair. end of story.)


And prior to going to the races, I went to another kind of race Saturday morning. I have been doing this walk for about 7 years, and my friend Kristy and I try to make it to both the Fort Worth and the Dallas ones. The turn-out for this one was HUGE! Usually it is the Dallas race that is a bit overwhelming (what, with it's 400,000,000 women in pink), but I think Fort Worth is catching up! So we walked the 5K at a brisk pace, up and down hills, in beautiful weather, and my ass and calves are still sore! So does that mean I get to skip a work-out tonight???

Hell no.

Because I have 20 lbs. to lose.

And I'll just leave that nasty little subject for another blog. Don't even get me started.......

Flexibility my ass....

Right now my arms are shaking like a bowl full of jello in an earthquake. I can hardly type. Let me just say that me, my screaming hip bones, a Pilates DVD, a stinky rubber band that smells like, well, rubber, and hardwood floors don't get along all that well. Not only do I feel like Gumby right now, but I smell like well, rubber, and I'm not so sure the last 40 minutes have done anything for my flexibility. I'm gonna go try to put my feet behind my head now, and I'll tell you how it goes.

No more cleansing & various other bitchings

Well, I haven't blogged since Day 2 of my cleanse, and there is a good reason for that. Namely...well, I fell off the cleansing bandwagon the night of Day 2. NO, really. The stuff didn't taste bad, but I had a 2 hour period where I couldn't drink it, and that was just enough time for my stomach to come alive and, well, inhale my liver. And my spleen. And really, once my stomach starts ingesting my other organs, it's all over. So.
It's all over.
I ate dinner that night, and I also happened to have a package of Rolo's. Mmmmmm.
And see, Ash Wednesday was, well, WEDNESDAY, and I decided that this Lent, I was going to give up all of the yummy things my belly loves to eat. And I love healthy stuff too, so I am committed to eating healthy, eating very little fried crap, cutting down on calories, and.....
No ice cream.
No cake.
No cookies.
No candy.
No starbucks' pastries.
No cupcakes.

My stomach is pretty pissed about this decision. But I am sure my ass will thank me later, when I walk around in a bathing suit for 7 days in Mexico.
And exercise is right around the corner. NO, really.
::
The other reason I stopped the damn cleanse was simple: I was so damn worn out from my 2 year old's damn fever, and I just wanted to be able to comfort myself with something yummy and full of fat-ass calories.
::
So, the fever finally left the house Wednesday afternoon. Yippeeeee. I kicked it's ass out the front door. Seriously. And then she came home from school today (the kid, not the fever), and she was a whiny, crying, clinging, pale kiddo again. Are you KIDDING ME????? I can't do this another weekend, seriously. I will literally lock myself in my closet and let my stomach eat all my other organs. (Can I say 'Seriously' a few more times in this post?)
::
Can I boycot all things Valentine's Day? The flowers, the 'Every kiss begins with Kay' commercials, the heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, the cute Victoria Secret perfume gifts, the sexy red & pink lingerie with the little hearts & lots of lace, the gag-me-with-a-heart-shaped-lollipop lovie-dovie cards???? I am so over the holiday. No, I'm not bitter. And yes, I love flowers, and candy, and real, spontaneous, heartfelt sentiment. It just isn't like it was when I was younger. And yes, my husband is sweet. It's just not the same. I have spent way too much time and energy trying to feel that excitement, anticipation, and sweetness that comes along with this holiday and your crush.
I say blah. Blah. Blah.
I think I need something sweet to make me sweet again. Which sort of defeats the purpose of this ranting I call a blog, huh?
Oh, well.

She's sick & I'm tired...again

So, the flu bug has invaded my house again. Grrr. Grace came home from daycare with a 103 fever on Friday, and we are finally down to 100 today. But really, that's not what I'm tired of.

I am on Day 2 of the 'Master Cleanse' aka 'the Lemonade Diet'. I was all excited about it, until I actually started it. I am not sleepy tired, I am just tired of not eating. I love food just way too much to be ingesting this stuff for 10 days. I have committed to 5 days, until Saturday morning. Last night I was craving broccoli. Of all things to want, huh? Not ice cream, not candy.....broccoli. And it's not even 11am yet, and today I have had fleeting thoughts of throwing in the towel about 10,000 times. But then I walk into the bathroom, and see my cute bathing suit that I stategically placed on my counter, and I know I have to keep going. Even if I just lose a few pounds this week, it will motivate me to work towards more weight loss.
Speaking of bathing suits, what the hell is up with Target? Why did they put bathing suits out about 2-3 weeks ago? Why do they put spring and summer stuff out when it's still cold out? That is so annoying. The last thing I want to do is try on a bathing suit. But I did it anyway. I tried on my bathing suit from last year. Yes, it fits, but I don't think it covers any of my fatty areas. Like, say, my stomach, my love handles, my thighs. So, that's how it ended up on my bathroom counter-I figured if I look at it enough, I will keep eating healthy.
I have 4 months to look great in that bathing suit. In 4 months, I'm going to Mexico. I cannot wait. I'm going to bring books & lots of sexy summer clothes. But if I don't lose weight, I'll be bringing lots of comfy, cover-up clothes.
On a related note: tomorrow is Ash Wednesday. And every year, during Lent, I give something up until Easter. When I was younger, I gave up candy, cake, and ice cream. It sucked, but in my family, the kids were allowed to have what they gave up, every Sunday. In the past 5 years or so, I have given up less. For instance, I would give up just candy, or just ice cream, or just chocolate chip cookies, which gave me lots of freedom to still eat sweet stuff. But not this year. NO cookies, NO candy, NO cake, NO brownies, NO ice cream. NO tiramisu. NO cupcakes. NO starbucks' pastries. Ack. I'm not including gum in that mess, nor am I including fat free jello or pudding. I have my limits, damn it. I'm hoping this will help me with my weight loss.
And yes, I am aware that I am not fat or overweight by any means. But I don't like how I feel, and the 18 or so pounds that I have gained seems to be all in one damn area-my muffin top. And I refuse to be one of those people that continues to wear sexy bathing suits even when they sooooo obviously should NOT be. And I realize that if anyone else were to see me in my bathing suit, they probably wouldn't see the fat that I see.
So.....day 2 of the cleanse. I guarantee I will be dreaming about food tonight.

What the H-E-double-L was I thinking?!

I'm going on an awesome trip to Mexico the end of May. I am excited & nervous, all at once. I really don't have to explain why I am excited: sand, turquoise ocean, sun, books, A.L.C.O.H.O.L., no work, no rain, no icicles, no brrrr!. Now, I am super nervous b/c:

A. My 2 1/2 year old has never been on a plane
B. My 2 1/2 year old has never left the state, let alone the country.
C. I have the driest, ashy-est skin I've ever seen on a white girl.
D. Oh, and I am wayyyyy white.
E. I need to lose some poundage. Like, 10 poundages.

Ugh. So. Since last week I have been doing some simple exercises, because quite frankly, I have been too damn lazy to get out the DVD player and do my Billy Blanks taebo or my yoga, or my pilates, or...okay, you get the point.
So, my calves are a bit sore, my arms are a bit sore (but still hefty).

I decided a quick fix to some of my concerns was to start tanning. I used to be one of those people that could walk out the mailbox & get tan. It was great! Now, not so much. Like I said, I'm pasty, ashy, dry, pale.....
So I've been tanning for a little over a week. I don't go every day b/c it makes me damn itchy. Itchy-er than I already am in the winter.
Well, today I 'beefed up' my tanning time to a whole 12 minutes. And....I look great if I do say so myself, but (get ready):
MY.ASS.IS.SO.INCREDIBLY.ITCHY.&.I.SEEM.TO.HAVE.BROKEN.OUT.IN.A.FEW.(AHEM!).HIVES.ON.MY.BUM.&.I.CAN'T.STOP.SCRATCHING.

I am miserable! Ack!
But I look good.