Friday, September 25, 2009
Girls Gone...Fishing
A story is not needed-for this trip-quotes will suffice.
Christina: "Hand me the trout, I'll size him."
Chloe: "Okay, just make sure you measure it from the 1 and not the zero."
Lauren (opening the live well): "OH SHIT! The shrimp are ALIVE!!!"
Chloe: "The boat hurts my boobs!"
Christina: "No, I'm good we have snacks, beer and beef and cheese."
-four minutes down the road-"I want McDonalds fries!" (Truck U turns on Highway)
Lauren: "Can I have one more Peanut Butter and Jelly Uncrustable please?"
At this point, Christina is drunk, Chloe is hyper and Lauren is snoring. All signs of a perfect day.
Christina: "Hand me the trout, I'll size him."
Chloe: "Okay, just make sure you measure it from the 1 and not the zero."
Lauren (opening the live well): "OH SHIT! The shrimp are ALIVE!!!"
Chloe: "The boat hurts my boobs!"
Christina: "No, I'm good we have snacks, beer and beef and cheese."
-four minutes down the road-"I want McDonalds fries!" (Truck U turns on Highway)
Lauren: "Can I have one more Peanut Butter and Jelly Uncrustable please?"
At this point, Christina is drunk, Chloe is hyper and Lauren is snoring. All signs of a perfect day.
The Saturday from Hell
We painted and tiled the addition to my house, set up a garage sale, hung 100 signs and made a 1,000 bucks in 24 hours...all while consuming 5 cases of beer and a fifth of crown. Now that friends...is talent.
Not much has changed
Her stories always began with “Once upon a time” and inevitably there was always a little boy and a little girl-walking home from school more often than not. In her stories there was a mother and a father, a Nickel and Dime store, which I imagined with wood floors and candy jars, and a small family dog. Some of them were about dresses and some about buying candy, but they all ended living happily ever after with a quick pause interrupted by her familiar sweet voice-“ the end.”
When my sister and I were little, we shared my Aunt Tangea’s bedroom. She was my father’s little sister and we had grown up hearing how much more spoiled she was than him.
I never fell asleep after “the end” but my sister always did. Even at 5 I remember thinking that maybe she had a clearer head than I did because I would lay awake every night covering every topic I possibly could in an inescapable compulsion to figure out something I may have missed before. I am still an avid scenario generator.
Cheryl always got to wear maw maw’s robe, it was green. Not a pretty soft green or spring time Kelly, but an outdated pea green with a missing button and the piping that was just a shade lighter. However aesthetically displeasing; it was hers.
The smell of my grandparents’ home was overwhelmingly inviting. It smelled of fabric softener, Bryll cream, and Chap Stick. The bathrooms smelled of almond cherry lotion and mouthwash. The water had an unforgettable smell, tinted yellow and so soft you could never rinse the shampoo out. I remember that few of the towels matched, but all were thin and soft.
Their carpet was brown shag and perfect for playing putt-putt in the hallway. Their TV was the large wooden cabinet kind with the extra channel box sitting on top so we could watch Nickelodeon, but had to get up to change the channel.
My grandmother used to ask me to help her clean out her cabinets every time she called to check on us. It was quite the event. We would cover the floor in clean sheets and wash our hands, then unload them one at a time just to stack them back up. It made me feel important, like I was the only one that could help her organize things like she wanted. I remember graduating to the pantry, then my job became much specialized, being sure that all of the green bean cans faced forward and the diet cokes stacks remained steady.
In my life I have rarely felt safe. I have continually been plagued by restless nights and daily anxiety and until last night when I dreamt about a specific night when I was taking a long bath listening to Norah Jones singing “Don’t know why,” did I remember that the last time I truly felt safe was in the bed beside my sister and Raggedy Ann in my grandparent’s house.
Just the highlights
Countless people, well, I guess I could count them…have asked why I have not been writing. Well, I have been writing. Just nothing anyone would want to read. However, to everyone’s relief, after turning in a far too long paper on the problems associated with health care and my half ass answer for them..I am officially back.
So, what anyone concerned enough to read this is wondering…friend, foe or stalker-here is what’s new.
Surgery last Monday went well. Just like those “sent from mom” Tupperware containers in your freezer that you’re not “quite” sure about; my cervix was frozen, defrosted, frozen and thawed during the most painful procedure that I have had yet. I am most proud that I didn’t cry. I did however have 3 pain pills, a klonopin and the remainder of my week-old fingernails. I spent 3 days on my sofa/chaise bed I created in the living room watching 52 inches of estrogen filled movies with my girlfriends eating every comfort food available complete with sundaes, beef and cheese and lucky charms. What the pain pills and heating pad couldn’t handle, the Michelob and Crown did. On a positive note, I have felt what childbirth contractions feel like, actually experience my uterus contracting…and I am convinced that my pain threshold had stretched further than ever before and I could feasibly deliver a child with no epidural. On the same note, there is no way in hell I plan to.
My classes are taking a little more of my “free” time than I expected and I have had projects, papers and homework so I am feeling teen-ish again.
Bungy may or may not be a girl. I am crushed. I have googled, youtubed and even bought a book with a “how to sex a rabbit” chapter and I still cannot tell. When they say it is tricky-they are not exaggerating. I am taking her/him…it to the vet on the 28th for a checkup, aging test so I know when to spay/neuter the poor baby, and finally find out if I should be buying pearls or argyle sweaters for Christmas.
Work is not worth writing about. I apparently am taking on some new projects but I’m not sure of any details and have no concrete idea of what I will actually be doing. So I am not going to speculate just to clarify later.
I am animal sitting this weekend-One dog, one cat, a saltwater aquarium, a fresh water aquarium, two doves and a goldfish pond. I initially thought to myself that how ridiculous it is for one person to have such an extensive petting zoo and then I realized this guy only has two more exhibits than I do. I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch to find me knitting on the front porch before Halloween…I’m just saying.
I plan a girl’s blowout every Halloween, parties and costumes but this year, I want to sit at home and pass out candy to the little hellions in the neighborhood. I’m feeling old.
The wing of the airplane on my Tiffany’s bracelet is bent and that pisses me off. How can you charge hundreds for tiny charms that bend and break? On second thought, obsessed women as myself are how they charge that much-scratch the “pisses me off.”
I saw Sorority Row last night, save your money, time and energy required to see this movie. I can never get that hour and fifteen minutes back.
I am buying a powerball ticket today. I don’t know how to, where to go or even how much they are, but I am willing to learn for a chance at 120 million dollars.
Finally, I would like to hit pause on life for a few days. If someone has that figured out-sell me the secret.
So, what anyone concerned enough to read this is wondering…friend, foe or stalker-here is what’s new.
Surgery last Monday went well. Just like those “sent from mom” Tupperware containers in your freezer that you’re not “quite” sure about; my cervix was frozen, defrosted, frozen and thawed during the most painful procedure that I have had yet. I am most proud that I didn’t cry. I did however have 3 pain pills, a klonopin and the remainder of my week-old fingernails. I spent 3 days on my sofa/chaise bed I created in the living room watching 52 inches of estrogen filled movies with my girlfriends eating every comfort food available complete with sundaes, beef and cheese and lucky charms. What the pain pills and heating pad couldn’t handle, the Michelob and Crown did. On a positive note, I have felt what childbirth contractions feel like, actually experience my uterus contracting…and I am convinced that my pain threshold had stretched further than ever before and I could feasibly deliver a child with no epidural. On the same note, there is no way in hell I plan to.
My classes are taking a little more of my “free” time than I expected and I have had projects, papers and homework so I am feeling teen-ish again.
Bungy may or may not be a girl. I am crushed. I have googled, youtubed and even bought a book with a “how to sex a rabbit” chapter and I still cannot tell. When they say it is tricky-they are not exaggerating. I am taking her/him…it to the vet on the 28th for a checkup, aging test so I know when to spay/neuter the poor baby, and finally find out if I should be buying pearls or argyle sweaters for Christmas.
Work is not worth writing about. I apparently am taking on some new projects but I’m not sure of any details and have no concrete idea of what I will actually be doing. So I am not going to speculate just to clarify later.
I am animal sitting this weekend-One dog, one cat, a saltwater aquarium, a fresh water aquarium, two doves and a goldfish pond. I initially thought to myself that how ridiculous it is for one person to have such an extensive petting zoo and then I realized this guy only has two more exhibits than I do. I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch to find me knitting on the front porch before Halloween…I’m just saying.
I plan a girl’s blowout every Halloween, parties and costumes but this year, I want to sit at home and pass out candy to the little hellions in the neighborhood. I’m feeling old.
The wing of the airplane on my Tiffany’s bracelet is bent and that pisses me off. How can you charge hundreds for tiny charms that bend and break? On second thought, obsessed women as myself are how they charge that much-scratch the “pisses me off.”
I saw Sorority Row last night, save your money, time and energy required to see this movie. I can never get that hour and fifteen minutes back.
I am buying a powerball ticket today. I don’t know how to, where to go or even how much they are, but I am willing to learn for a chance at 120 million dollars.
Finally, I would like to hit pause on life for a few days. If someone has that figured out-sell me the secret.
Friday, September 11, 2009
It's A Girl!
I walked into the pet store for a few new saltwater fish for my tank at work and somehow found myself asking about the feeding and life expectancy of the little bunny I was holding in my arms. I have NEVER wanted a bunny, but I hate cats too and Belle is the love of my life. Somewhere between the tortoise boxes and the hamster cages, my biological clock decided for me that I didn’t just want this little bunny, but I NEEDED it.
So there I was in my usual form, reaching for toys and bowls and the best of the best vitamins thinking at the checkout which pet store I could go to next.
I went to three pet stores that afternoon and got Bungy everything that she could ever want along with numerous accessories that are held conveniently in her little pink purse with pearl strung handle.
I wonder if my pets know that they won the Lottery of owners
Bungy's First Bath
This was a pretty monumental occurance. Now she smells like Rosemary mint...and love.
Nothing taste as good as looking HOT feels
I am not a fan of fad diets or wasting my time reading books about what foods I should eat to live longer. I am a fairly healthy person, but I do have a hidden love affair with bar food. There is nothing like a plate of nachos at 2 am. However, in an effort to grab the proverbial reins of my life, I have decided to try some new things.
I just started Isagenix. I ordered the box months ago and it never made it farther than the trunk of my car. I finally decided to open it yesterday and inside I found some pretty intense and very intimidating information. The first step is to measure all of your body parts and add up your “total inches.” My total inches are 283.75; however, I’m sure without my Victoria’s Secret push up, I would have a significantly lower total.
So I had two days of “pre-cleansing” where I had a sensible meal and snack and two shakes. The Vanilla shake taste more like a stale cinnamon roll and the wild berry cleaning drink taste exactly like watered down robitussin. BUT, to my excitement, a bottle of “snacks” were included. I unscrewed the cap and ripped out the cotton to find white wafers that look like industrial strength Tums. They smelled like cake icing so I went for a little cheat of a nibble. To my dismay, they were probably the worst product in the box coming in just past the “natural accelerator” supplement pills that taste like my pee smells after I have too much asparagus. It’s wonderful.
So, I am 2 pounds down in one day…I am trying to continue to cautiously embrace this Cleansing, but really…all this may do is make me hate life.
Ps, I am going to the LSU game AND the Saints game this weekend. Great fun you would think right? I did too until I read the tiny little green “success tip” box which read “Cleanse days are a good time to reduce and eliminate any caffeine, alcohol and/sugar consumption.” Really? This is day 2 of a 9 day process.
My apologies if you are unfortunate enough to encounter my harsh mood if I continue on this borderline starvation plan.
I just started Isagenix. I ordered the box months ago and it never made it farther than the trunk of my car. I finally decided to open it yesterday and inside I found some pretty intense and very intimidating information. The first step is to measure all of your body parts and add up your “total inches.” My total inches are 283.75; however, I’m sure without my Victoria’s Secret push up, I would have a significantly lower total.
So I had two days of “pre-cleansing” where I had a sensible meal and snack and two shakes. The Vanilla shake taste more like a stale cinnamon roll and the wild berry cleaning drink taste exactly like watered down robitussin. BUT, to my excitement, a bottle of “snacks” were included. I unscrewed the cap and ripped out the cotton to find white wafers that look like industrial strength Tums. They smelled like cake icing so I went for a little cheat of a nibble. To my dismay, they were probably the worst product in the box coming in just past the “natural accelerator” supplement pills that taste like my pee smells after I have too much asparagus. It’s wonderful.
So, I am 2 pounds down in one day…I am trying to continue to cautiously embrace this Cleansing, but really…all this may do is make me hate life.
Ps, I am going to the LSU game AND the Saints game this weekend. Great fun you would think right? I did too until I read the tiny little green “success tip” box which read “Cleanse days are a good time to reduce and eliminate any caffeine, alcohol and/sugar consumption.” Really? This is day 2 of a 9 day process.
My apologies if you are unfortunate enough to encounter my harsh mood if I continue on this borderline starvation plan.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Maw Maw and Paw Paw-outside of Mississippi...that means "grandparents"
Her stories always began with “Once upon a time” and inevitably there was always a little boy and a little girl-walking home from school more often than not. In her stories there was a mother and a father, a Nickel and Dime store, which I imagined with wood floors and candy jars, and a small family dog. Some of them were about dresses and some about buying candy, but they all ended living happily ever after with a quick pause interrupted by her familiar sweet voice-“ the end.”
When my sister and I were little, we shared my Aunt Tangea’s bedroom. She was my father’s little sister and we had grown up hearing how much more spoiled she was than him.
I never fell asleep after “the end” but my sister always did. Even at 5 I remember thinking that maybe she had a clearer head than I did because I would lay awake every night covering every topic I possibly could in an inescapable compulsion to figure out something I may have missed before. I am still an avid scenario generator.
Cheryl always got to wear maw maw’s robe, it was green. Not a pretty soft green or spring time Kelly, but an outdated pea green with a missing button and the piping that was just a shade lighter. However aesthetically displeasing; it was hers.
The smell of my grandparents’ home was overwhelmingly inviting. It smelled of fabric softener, Bryll cream, and Chap Stick. The bathrooms smelled of almond cherry lotion and mouthwash. The water had an unforgettable smell, tinted yellow and so soft you could never rinse the shampoo out. I remember that few of the towels matched, but all were thin and soft.
Their carpet was brown shag and perfect for playing putt-putt in the hallway. Their TV was the large wooden cabinet kind with the extra channel box sitting on top so we could watch Nickelodeon, but had to get up to change the channel.
My grandmother used to ask me to help her clean out her cabinets every time she called to check on us. It was quite the event. We would cover the floor in clean sheets and wash our hands, then unload them one at a time just to stack them back up. It made me feel important, like I was the only one that could help her organize things like she wanted. I remember graduating to the pantry, then my job became much specialized, being sure that all of the green bean cans faced forward and the diet cokes stacks remained steady.
In my life I have rarely felt safe. I have continually been plagued by restless nights and daily anxiety and until last night when I dreamt about a specific night when I was taking a long bath listening to Norah Jones singing “Don’t know why,” did I remember that the last time I truly felt safe was in the bed beside my sister and Raggedy Ann in my grandparent’s house.
When my sister and I were little, we shared my Aunt Tangea’s bedroom. She was my father’s little sister and we had grown up hearing how much more spoiled she was than him.
I never fell asleep after “the end” but my sister always did. Even at 5 I remember thinking that maybe she had a clearer head than I did because I would lay awake every night covering every topic I possibly could in an inescapable compulsion to figure out something I may have missed before. I am still an avid scenario generator.
Cheryl always got to wear maw maw’s robe, it was green. Not a pretty soft green or spring time Kelly, but an outdated pea green with a missing button and the piping that was just a shade lighter. However aesthetically displeasing; it was hers.
The smell of my grandparents’ home was overwhelmingly inviting. It smelled of fabric softener, Bryll cream, and Chap Stick. The bathrooms smelled of almond cherry lotion and mouthwash. The water had an unforgettable smell, tinted yellow and so soft you could never rinse the shampoo out. I remember that few of the towels matched, but all were thin and soft.
Their carpet was brown shag and perfect for playing putt-putt in the hallway. Their TV was the large wooden cabinet kind with the extra channel box sitting on top so we could watch Nickelodeon, but had to get up to change the channel.
My grandmother used to ask me to help her clean out her cabinets every time she called to check on us. It was quite the event. We would cover the floor in clean sheets and wash our hands, then unload them one at a time just to stack them back up. It made me feel important, like I was the only one that could help her organize things like she wanted. I remember graduating to the pantry, then my job became much specialized, being sure that all of the green bean cans faced forward and the diet cokes stacks remained steady.
In my life I have rarely felt safe. I have continually been plagued by restless nights and daily anxiety and until last night when I dreamt about a specific night when I was taking a long bath listening to Norah Jones singing “Don’t know why,” did I remember that the last time I truly felt safe was in the bed beside my sister and Raggedy Ann in my grandparent’s house.
An ommission of the truth...is a lie.
Is it because they love me? Is it because I’m tough, weak…or intimidating? Lately the scales have fallen from my eyes, the wool is at my feet and I can see a little clearer.
I am easy to lie to.
I pride myself in my intuition and it takes a great deal of “follow through” for me to really trust someone. Yet lately I have found myself surrounded by little white lies.
I’ll never do it again. I will help you. I will call. We are just friends. I was just working. I forgot. I am listening. I do care; I just didn’t think you wanted to talk about it. I never meant to hurt you. I am done sowing my wild oats. I will pay you back soon. Rent…is it the first? Just call, sure I’m down for whatever. I would love to have a girl’s night out. I was asleep. You are over qualified and should find something else. I didn’t drive drunk-he did. No, I’m really happy. It was only because I was working. Everything will be fine. I will start to communicate. That dress looks great on you, don’t change. We will bring the family and come visit. I will never lie to you again.
I am surrounded with people who love me. Overwhelmed with requests to hang out, have lunch, just talk…and yet I still hang on to the ones that hurt me.
Really? Unfortunately my filter has worn down and I can take it no longer. I cannot physically handle one more lie whether it be “white,” accidental or blatant. Today was the last time that I will allow myself to be lied to.
I am easy to lie to.
I pride myself in my intuition and it takes a great deal of “follow through” for me to really trust someone. Yet lately I have found myself surrounded by little white lies.
I’ll never do it again. I will help you. I will call. We are just friends. I was just working. I forgot. I am listening. I do care; I just didn’t think you wanted to talk about it. I never meant to hurt you. I am done sowing my wild oats. I will pay you back soon. Rent…is it the first? Just call, sure I’m down for whatever. I would love to have a girl’s night out. I was asleep. You are over qualified and should find something else. I didn’t drive drunk-he did. No, I’m really happy. It was only because I was working. Everything will be fine. I will start to communicate. That dress looks great on you, don’t change. We will bring the family and come visit. I will never lie to you again.
I am surrounded with people who love me. Overwhelmed with requests to hang out, have lunch, just talk…and yet I still hang on to the ones that hurt me.
Really? Unfortunately my filter has worn down and I can take it no longer. I cannot physically handle one more lie whether it be “white,” accidental or blatant. Today was the last time that I will allow myself to be lied to.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Remember "I" before "E," except in Budweiser.
Reflective thoughts from many men much smarter than I...
BEER THEORIES-How can anyone possibly argue with such logic.
Sometimes when I reflect on all the beer I drink, I feel ashamed. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. If I didn't drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. I think, "It is better to drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver." -Babe Ruth
"I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day." -Lyndon B. Johnson
"When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading." -Paul Horning
"24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case. Coincidence? I think not." -H. L. Mencken
"When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to heaven. So, let's all get drunk and go to heaven!" -George Bernard Shaw
"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." -Benjamin Franklin
"Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza." -Dave Barry
BEER: HELPING UGLY PEOPLE HAVE SEX SINCE 3000 B.C.! -W. C. Fields -Professor Irwin Corey
To some it's a six-pack, to me it's a Support Group Salvation in a can! -Leo Durocher
One night at Cheers, Cliff Clavin explained the" Buffalo Theory" to his buddy Norm:
"Well, ya see, Norm, it's like this. A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members! In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine! That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers."
...And it makes your singing voice sound better, too.
BEER THEORIES-How can anyone possibly argue with such logic.
Sometimes when I reflect on all the beer I drink, I feel ashamed. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. If I didn't drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. I think, "It is better to drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver." -Babe Ruth
"I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day." -Lyndon B. Johnson
"When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading." -Paul Horning
"24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case. Coincidence? I think not." -H. L. Mencken
"When we drink, we get drunk. When we get drunk, we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we commit no sin. When we commit no sin, we go to heaven. So, let's all get drunk and go to heaven!" -George Bernard Shaw
"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." -Benjamin Franklin
"Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza." -Dave Barry
BEER: HELPING UGLY PEOPLE HAVE SEX SINCE 3000 B.C.! -W. C. Fields -Professor Irwin Corey
To some it's a six-pack, to me it's a Support Group Salvation in a can! -Leo Durocher
One night at Cheers, Cliff Clavin explained the" Buffalo Theory" to his buddy Norm:
"Well, ya see, Norm, it's like this. A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members! In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine! That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers."
...And it makes your singing voice sound better, too.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Two Ants dancing on a blade of grass
Today I added Grumps to the tank. He is a pretty active little hermit crab who has been filtering the sand like he is on speed. I ate half of a pint of Blackberries, an oatmeal cream pie and drank two cokes after my six inch sub...and I'm wondering why I have gained weight-shocker.
Today has been laughably mundane. I delivered mail, ordered supplies, looked over the office budget, and entered time. The excitement was only interrupted once by my trip back to the Dr.’s office where I sat for over an hour waiting for my appointment. This time, it was NOT my fault. They called my name at 12:15-my appointment was at 11:30. To the dreaded scale…no change since Monday, not even an ounce.
I sat in the tiny exam room on the crisp paper and stared at the stacks of latex gloves that could so easily be my demise. I glanced at “Phoebe,” my new fever blister and almost gagged at how gross it looks. I have not had one in 9 months, but something about huge, stressful changes and lack of sleep just brings them out. I glanced down at my super white knees peeping out from my Polo dress and wished I had had the extra five minutes to slather on some Jergens Express tanning lotion-but I willingly accepted mediocrity today. Escada and Versace couldn’t make me feel cute on a day with a fever blister.
My Dr. strolled in like she was an hour early rather than late and invited me to the more comfortable room across the hall-this is never “good” news. She sighs as she sits and I immediately break a sweat and remember how great of a deal I got on deodorant at Albertson’s ten for $10 sale. As she asked question after question that amounted to nothing I quickly saw that there was a bomb brewing just as soon as this fuse burned down. And then she came out with it. She gave me diagnosis in a way that made me imagine her in front of her bathroom mirror repeating her tactful soliloquy until she had each perfected and ready to place neatly in her mental file.
As she pressed on, she dug deeper into me with questions that left me more than vulnerable. I humbly answered all of her questions, while simultaneously wondering what problems she had dealt with to bring her to a profession that would force her to deal with everyone else’s. You have to wonder who reciprocates on her behalf; who hacks away at her emotions and helps her embrace positive thinking? I glanced at her rather impressive emerald cut diamond and imagined tiny ice skaters circling atop and being charged admission.
I left relieved and yet questioning, but loved how communicative she was and allowed me to be. I stepped outside and the cool air reminded me of James Taylor-September Grass. I can’t wait for football.
Today has been laughably mundane. I delivered mail, ordered supplies, looked over the office budget, and entered time. The excitement was only interrupted once by my trip back to the Dr.’s office where I sat for over an hour waiting for my appointment. This time, it was NOT my fault. They called my name at 12:15-my appointment was at 11:30. To the dreaded scale…no change since Monday, not even an ounce.
I sat in the tiny exam room on the crisp paper and stared at the stacks of latex gloves that could so easily be my demise. I glanced at “Phoebe,” my new fever blister and almost gagged at how gross it looks. I have not had one in 9 months, but something about huge, stressful changes and lack of sleep just brings them out. I glanced down at my super white knees peeping out from my Polo dress and wished I had had the extra five minutes to slather on some Jergens Express tanning lotion-but I willingly accepted mediocrity today. Escada and Versace couldn’t make me feel cute on a day with a fever blister.
My Dr. strolled in like she was an hour early rather than late and invited me to the more comfortable room across the hall-this is never “good” news. She sighs as she sits and I immediately break a sweat and remember how great of a deal I got on deodorant at Albertson’s ten for $10 sale. As she asked question after question that amounted to nothing I quickly saw that there was a bomb brewing just as soon as this fuse burned down. And then she came out with it. She gave me diagnosis in a way that made me imagine her in front of her bathroom mirror repeating her tactful soliloquy until she had each perfected and ready to place neatly in her mental file.
As she pressed on, she dug deeper into me with questions that left me more than vulnerable. I humbly answered all of her questions, while simultaneously wondering what problems she had dealt with to bring her to a profession that would force her to deal with everyone else’s. You have to wonder who reciprocates on her behalf; who hacks away at her emotions and helps her embrace positive thinking? I glanced at her rather impressive emerald cut diamond and imagined tiny ice skaters circling atop and being charged admission.
I left relieved and yet questioning, but loved how communicative she was and allowed me to be. I stepped outside and the cool air reminded me of James Taylor-September Grass. I can’t wait for football.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Happy?...Tuesday
Yesterday began with a few laughs as I attempted to wake up one of my shacking girlfriends for work (think Frankenstein)-no I’m not exaggerating...she is as bad as me in the morning. I took an hour bath and even a longer shower listening to The Soloist on my waterproof shower cd player. I took my time getting ready. I shaved my legs twice and used microderm abrasion on my face in an attempt to dissolve the stress induced grease factory that has become my face. I exfoliated and used my new Daisy by Marc Jacobs body wash.
All the time and care I was putting into getting ready was an attempt to divert from the appointment I would barely make at 11:30. I threw on a fitted tee and rejoiced at my success of not “looking pregnant” as I did the last time I went to Woman’s’ Hospital. I wore this really pretty orange long maxi dress that everyone loved…and seemed to be the uniform style of every expecting mother in the entire building. I grabbed a denim mini skirt, realizing that I am about 6 years too old to wear anything like this, and pulled my bangs back in my usual school girl style.
I had thirty minutes left. Somehow my attempt to waste time left me with some to spare. I began cleaning bathrooms and threw my new sheets in the washer so they would be fresh for my recovery movie marathon that afternoon. The Parking lot was the usual, deadlocked at a quarter till my appointment, guaranteeing I would be late. Five pregnant women stood in line for the elevator in front of me and one had a head full of grey hair and a little toddler jumping around. It was quite a questionable scene, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I would find myself in a mid life pregnancy.
I arrived at the receptionist desk on the fifth floor where I had to sign verification papers because I somehow forgot my insurance card. So I sit in the waiting room for about 3 seconds before I get called to the scale. When I saw that the six pounds that I gained miraculously turned into ten, I instantly thought of the new yoga DVD that I grabbed off of the impulse isle at Marshall’s and vowed to try it…this week.
I answered the usual questions and my blood pressure was higher than usual-shocker-I dropped the tweener teenage skirt and reached for the rough paper sheet as I took my place sitting Indian style on the exam table. My doctor, whose name is ironically Sunshine, stepped in with her predictable chipper banter and went over the last test results and the current procedure options.
After tears, gritting teeth and a few apologies from her, it was over. I lay sweating on the table waiting for the room to stop spinning and for my stomach to descend from my throat. As I checked out and make my next appointment I realized that this is just the beginning and I had better decide to toughen up now or I was really going to fall later.
At home I embraced my rehab plans with The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 1 and 2; both of which are movies I would NEVER watch on a regular basis. I ate ice cream and drank coke from glass bottles in my favorite super soft purple night gown.
The rest of the night was a pretty rapid descent where I cried, debated whether or not to take pain meds or drink whiskey and ignored 8 calls and 3 text because I couldn’t bear to have one more person ask me how I felt or if it was “that bad.”
After two hours of reading Grimm’s Fairytales from my iphone, I eventually surrendered to the Hydrocodone.
Today, will be much better.
All the time and care I was putting into getting ready was an attempt to divert from the appointment I would barely make at 11:30. I threw on a fitted tee and rejoiced at my success of not “looking pregnant” as I did the last time I went to Woman’s’ Hospital. I wore this really pretty orange long maxi dress that everyone loved…and seemed to be the uniform style of every expecting mother in the entire building. I grabbed a denim mini skirt, realizing that I am about 6 years too old to wear anything like this, and pulled my bangs back in my usual school girl style.
I had thirty minutes left. Somehow my attempt to waste time left me with some to spare. I began cleaning bathrooms and threw my new sheets in the washer so they would be fresh for my recovery movie marathon that afternoon. The Parking lot was the usual, deadlocked at a quarter till my appointment, guaranteeing I would be late. Five pregnant women stood in line for the elevator in front of me and one had a head full of grey hair and a little toddler jumping around. It was quite a questionable scene, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I would find myself in a mid life pregnancy.
I arrived at the receptionist desk on the fifth floor where I had to sign verification papers because I somehow forgot my insurance card. So I sit in the waiting room for about 3 seconds before I get called to the scale. When I saw that the six pounds that I gained miraculously turned into ten, I instantly thought of the new yoga DVD that I grabbed off of the impulse isle at Marshall’s and vowed to try it…this week.
I answered the usual questions and my blood pressure was higher than usual-shocker-I dropped the tweener teenage skirt and reached for the rough paper sheet as I took my place sitting Indian style on the exam table. My doctor, whose name is ironically Sunshine, stepped in with her predictable chipper banter and went over the last test results and the current procedure options.
After tears, gritting teeth and a few apologies from her, it was over. I lay sweating on the table waiting for the room to stop spinning and for my stomach to descend from my throat. As I checked out and make my next appointment I realized that this is just the beginning and I had better decide to toughen up now or I was really going to fall later.
At home I embraced my rehab plans with The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 1 and 2; both of which are movies I would NEVER watch on a regular basis. I ate ice cream and drank coke from glass bottles in my favorite super soft purple night gown.
The rest of the night was a pretty rapid descent where I cried, debated whether or not to take pain meds or drink whiskey and ignored 8 calls and 3 text because I couldn’t bear to have one more person ask me how I felt or if it was “that bad.”
After two hours of reading Grimm’s Fairytales from my iphone, I eventually surrendered to the Hydrocodone.
Today, will be much better.
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