So, I haven't posted in almost a year.
I know, I know. Terrible of me. A lot of things have happened in the last year, but in quick summary (in no particular order): I completely transitioned to a fully vegan diet and kept with it, I was in "Hair" and "Chicago", I got "too thin" to plus-size model (I know, the irony), I didn't exercise much, I got a dog, some people I cared about passed away, and we went to Disney World. Kind of a mixed-bag there, I know.
After I settled fully into veganism, I noticed myself teetering perilously close to falling into the dreaded category of being a "junk food vegan." Don't know what that means? French fries and tater tots (most of the time), potato chips, and even some crazy stuff like movie popcorn (yeah, that's not butter--it's palm oil) can fall into the vegan category. Basically, it's eating convenience foods because you don't (allegedly) have the time to cook a healthy meal. It's kind of like my lack of regular blog-posting--it's just easier to update your Facebook status three times a day rather than organizing your thoughts into something that makes sense.
Recently, I have decided to cook dinner every night. And that doesn't mean nuking a pizza, although I am still guilty of doing that for the two small excessively picky eaters who dwell with us. Surprisingly, after a couple days of this, John volunteered to let me off work two hours early each day if I was going home to make dinner. With that development, I began to actively plan a week's worth of dinners. Lunch is leftovers and whatever else is in the house. (I always keep salad fixings and healthy frozen dinners on hand, just in case.) I just finished my first week, and I must say it went really well. Although my husband is not a vegan, if the dinner is DELICIOUS, he doesn't care that we are eating a predominantly vegan diet (at least in the evenings.)
The kids are another story altogether. They will agree to eat very few things (pizza, chicken nuggets/tenders, fish sticks on a good day, more pizza, cereal, waffles, more pizza, etc.,) and Rachel has recently decided that she won't eat peanut butter anymore either. At least we buy jelly/preserves without high fructose corn syrup in them, since we're essentially feeding her sugar sandwiches half the time. And forget about visibly seasoning dinner--"there's DIRT in my food!" Garlic and onion powders and salt are about all I can do with them if I want dinner to be eaten.
I hear it all the time "just make them eat what you're eating. They won't starve." That's easier said than done when your kids only live with you part of the time, and go home to another house where getting them to eat spaghetti-o's is considered a major healthy accomplishment. And these girls, lovely and delicate and bright as they are, are downright belligerent about saying they are full, even if they've barely touched their dinner. They don't mind going hungry...they'd prefer it to trying something new. And it's hard not to get your feelings a bit hurt when you've slaved over something, they touch it to their tongue briefly, drop it like it's poison, and whine "I don't liiiiiike it! Can I be excused?" I've learned to pick my battles carefully. I also know that it won't always be like this. While I ate everything as a child, my brother (who is now a chef who works for one of Emeril's establishments) once only ate bread and meat sandwiches (with cheese and ketchup when he was feeling frisky) and didn't want the things on his plate to touch. Heck, I know grownups who still fit into that category! So, frankly, I've decided that the dinner table should be a peaceful place and not a war zone, and we'll just do our best where they are concerned.
Here's what we ate for dinner this past week, and how it was received:
For the Super Bowl, I made multi-layered vegan nachos with vegan nacho cheese and homemade "sour cream." I also made spinach dip, which was outstanding. Vegennaise, to me, tastes more fattening than most mayonnaises you can get. Definitely falls into "Blue Plate" territory.
Monday was "Mexasian" night. Basically, I wanted to have a night of my favorite finger foods and snacks. I made veggie sushi and guacamole. This was my first time making sushi, and it didn't look very aesthetically pleasing. However, it was tasty as all get-out. The guacamole, as usual (we've been making it forever) was fantastic.
Tuesday we had the girls with us. I made English Muffin pizzas (some English muffins are vegan, you just have to study the ingredients) that we ate with julienned carrot and celery sticks on the side. I make tomato sauce now, since it tastes as good as the jarred stuff. I used regular mozzarella for the girls and John's pizzas with fake cheese for mine. I included shaved onion and thin slices of mushrooms on mine just to veg it up some more. The girls ate all their vegetable sticks, which I was very glad of, since that meant they got to have dessert. I had baked a loaf of Coconut-Lime Banana Bread the night before, and the kids (and grown-ups) truly enjoyed that.
Wednesday was a snow day. I made some vegan hot cocoa after we came in from playing in the snow. The kids ate leftover pizza for dinner. The grown-ups started with a Greek Salad (news flash--tofu marinated in lemon juice with salt tastes close to Feta.) I made a rich, velvety Red Onion Soup and floated some toasted baguette slices on top. Yum! John really enjoyed the soup, but things with a lot of onion are usually too rich for him to eat too much of.
Thursday the girls went back to their mom's house. The adults had leftover night. Ain't grazing fun? I'm going to build in at least two leftover nights per week to make sure everything gets eaten. (We eat leftovers for lunch each day as well.)
Friday night I baked a whole-wheat herbed flatbread to eat with our Quinoa Kitchari. Kitchari is an ayurvedic word that essentially means "two grains together." This dish included quinoa AND lentils, and was seasoned by a small onion and (brace yourselves) eight WHOLE CLOVES of garlic. John probably raved about this dish more than anything I made this week. Guess which obscure grain is back on the shopping list for next week?
Tonight I'm going to a small-group church dinner. I was asked to bring a "starch." I'm making another pot of the quinoa to take with me, so that I will have something that I know I can eat that is very filling. (I picked all the garlic out, as I know some people are downright vampirish in their aversion to garlic.) John has a daddy-daughter dance at the school, so he elected to go the frozen pizza route for spite.
Tomorrow I've planned to make a cashew-crusted tofu and to make a broccoli salad on the side. I might also bake (to eat later) some Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme biscuits, just because the recipe intrigued me.
Here's what I'm thinking about for next week, although I haven't assigned a day to each recipe yet:
Taboulleh and Hummus
Tofu & Snow Pea Stir Fry
Kale & Slow-Baked Lima Beans (John actually got this recipe from the NY Times)
Tofu Enchiladas
Mock Crab Cakes (a la Monica Robinson) with Caldo Blend Vegetables (think the stuff that boils with your shrimp)
Spaghetti with Tofu Balls
For a dessert to try, I think I'm going with Peanut Butter Balls, although I think John might make a blueberry pie...and may talk me into making a "Cheese"cake as well. For the kids, I think I'll make grilled PB&J sandwiches. It takes it to the next level.
Next week, I'll report on how it went.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Next Chapter
Okay. I don't know whether to blame my doctor or his staff, but I'm completely fed up with the Cornerstone Clinic For Women. I LIKE my doctor, but I have been treated in an abhorrent manner. My doctor told me in January that I had some sort of uterine birth defect. I called in early February to ask if I needed to do anything/know anything before trying to have a baby in the future. The nurse told me YES, that they would need to determine exactly what sort of defect I had and the extent of it to see whether or not I should try to get pregnant at all. But she'd need to talk to my doctor first to determine exactly what kind of test I need to have. But the doctor was out of town and would have to get back to me on Monday when he was back in town. They did not return my (oft repeated) phone calls for three weeks. Every time I called they told me my chart was on his desk and that he'd get back to me. After three weeks, I was told he was out of town AGAIN. I got a little emotional on the phone, especially considering nobody seemed to know why I was calling. I got a call back from the doctor himself the next week. He left me a voicemail after hours one day, but since the receptionist was gone, even though I called right back, I couldn't reach him. Of course, I wasn't able to reach him for yet another week. When I spoke to him, he had NO IDEA WHY I HAD CALLED HIM. Even though I had been asked a million times why I was calling by the staff, this information was not passed on to him. When I told him what my questions was, the conversation took all of fifteen minutes. He scheduled me for an HSG (hysterosalpinogram) the following Monday.
An HSG is performed by a radiologist. They inject contrast material into your uterus while taking continual x-rays. It was very interesting to watch, but a little uncomfortable. I saw very clearly that my uterus is tilted to the side and misshapen. It looked as if the "top wall" (for lack of a better term) was collapsing.
The radiologist told me my doctor would have the results that same day. Of course, I didn't get a call.
I called the next day and got a return call from a nurse who had no idea why I was calling, of course. When she called me back later, she was reading from something that said I either had a septate or bicornuate uterus, but that they thought it was septated. They said an MRI would be better at determining what it was, and I told them I had already had a CAT Scan. And I wondered aloud why he recommended a test that wouldn't tell him for sure what I had. In my "expert" opinion based on photos I have seen online and what I thought my uterus looked like in the scan, I thought it might actually be arcuate, which is not quite as serious as a septate uterus. Having a septated uterus causes an EXTREMELY high rate of miscarriage in both early and late pregnancy as well as preterm labor. It is very difficult to carry a baby to term. In some cases, they can operate to remove it, but that is not always an option. In any event, I am suspected of having the most serious Mullerian Duct defect there is, and "they don't handle that." She told me they were referring me to a fertility specialist nearby. So I guess I won't be darkening the doorstep of that clinic again. I suppose they wanted me to have one last test they could charge me for before letting me go. Which is extremely suspicious, considering they don't handle cases like the one they suspected me of having.
So, I don't normally do this, but I would like to say that every woman out there should avoid Dr. Kenneth Singleton's office unless they are 100% sure that they will have a normal pregnancy with no complications. I would also recommend that any potential patients out there be okay with having little to no access to their doctor for weeks at a time and be okay with his staff ignoring you. I should have known the first time we called when his nurse was exceptionally rude to my husband that, even if he came highly recommended, that it takes more than someone being likable to ensure a good experience. It is pretty clear that their office has too many patients to be able to deal with someone who isn't currently in labor. I know that there are plenty of people out there who can get pregnant if someone sneezes in their direction, and who can drop a baby like they are having a litter of kittens, but if you aren't, this isn't the clinic for you.
I am trying not dwell on it, but this starts a new chapter in my life. I look forward to meeting Dr. B, and hope that this experience won't suck the life out of me like the last one did. It could certainly put a drain on our pocketbooks, since insurance doesn't cover fertility treatments. Any stupid kid who can't keep it in their pants can have a baby and their parents' insurance will cover their hospital stay. But responsible people who want to have a baby can't get anything covered. Oh, I know...it's because fertility is a privilege, not a right. And being infertile isn't life threatening. But where's the fairness in knowing you may not be able to afford to come out of pocket 100% to have a surgery that will ensure that a baby won't have to die if you accidentally get pregnant, since your body can't physically support it? Right-to-lifers, take THAT up as your mission.
An HSG is performed by a radiologist. They inject contrast material into your uterus while taking continual x-rays. It was very interesting to watch, but a little uncomfortable. I saw very clearly that my uterus is tilted to the side and misshapen. It looked as if the "top wall" (for lack of a better term) was collapsing.
The radiologist told me my doctor would have the results that same day. Of course, I didn't get a call.
I called the next day and got a return call from a nurse who had no idea why I was calling, of course. When she called me back later, she was reading from something that said I either had a septate or bicornuate uterus, but that they thought it was septated. They said an MRI would be better at determining what it was, and I told them I had already had a CAT Scan. And I wondered aloud why he recommended a test that wouldn't tell him for sure what I had. In my "expert" opinion based on photos I have seen online and what I thought my uterus looked like in the scan, I thought it might actually be arcuate, which is not quite as serious as a septate uterus. Having a septated uterus causes an EXTREMELY high rate of miscarriage in both early and late pregnancy as well as preterm labor. It is very difficult to carry a baby to term. In some cases, they can operate to remove it, but that is not always an option. In any event, I am suspected of having the most serious Mullerian Duct defect there is, and "they don't handle that." She told me they were referring me to a fertility specialist nearby. So I guess I won't be darkening the doorstep of that clinic again. I suppose they wanted me to have one last test they could charge me for before letting me go. Which is extremely suspicious, considering they don't handle cases like the one they suspected me of having.
So, I don't normally do this, but I would like to say that every woman out there should avoid Dr. Kenneth Singleton's office unless they are 100% sure that they will have a normal pregnancy with no complications. I would also recommend that any potential patients out there be okay with having little to no access to their doctor for weeks at a time and be okay with his staff ignoring you. I should have known the first time we called when his nurse was exceptionally rude to my husband that, even if he came highly recommended, that it takes more than someone being likable to ensure a good experience. It is pretty clear that their office has too many patients to be able to deal with someone who isn't currently in labor. I know that there are plenty of people out there who can get pregnant if someone sneezes in their direction, and who can drop a baby like they are having a litter of kittens, but if you aren't, this isn't the clinic for you.
I am trying not dwell on it, but this starts a new chapter in my life. I look forward to meeting Dr. B, and hope that this experience won't suck the life out of me like the last one did. It could certainly put a drain on our pocketbooks, since insurance doesn't cover fertility treatments. Any stupid kid who can't keep it in their pants can have a baby and their parents' insurance will cover their hospital stay. But responsible people who want to have a baby can't get anything covered. Oh, I know...it's because fertility is a privilege, not a right. And being infertile isn't life threatening. But where's the fairness in knowing you may not be able to afford to come out of pocket 100% to have a surgery that will ensure that a baby won't have to die if you accidentally get pregnant, since your body can't physically support it? Right-to-lifers, take THAT up as your mission.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Eye of the Tiger!
As usual, it's been a while since my last post. Probably because I was in a holding pattern for a while. My doc FINALLY called me back after 3 weeks of continued phone messages...and then when I missed his call, it took another week for him to get back in touch with me, despite multiple calls back. He was out of town twice in that three week period. I don't blame my doc. I blame his staff. When he called me back, he didn't know why I had called, despite multiple messages. Bleh.
The long and short of it is, I'm having a HSG on Monday. That stands for hysterosalpingogram. It's an xray with contrast dye. I'll find out more afterwards about what my odds are of being able to carry a baby to term. But for now, I'm trying to focus on other things. It's not my time yet.
I've gone back on the UAMS plan for the time being. My weight had gotten out of control again. I wasn't all the way back to where I was when I started the plan the first time, but I was almost twenty pounds over my goal weight. My goal is to go beyond my previous "goal weight" and really make an impact on my health and on my future. It's time to stop "settling" for the easier goal. I realize that I am lazy...that I like to relax and hope that my body will decide to be a supermodel on its own. I like to watch TV with a drink in my hand, not eat a carrot and go for a run. But it's time to wake up and face reality. It's great that I am a vegetarian, but it's not great that the seafood I choose to keep as part of my diet is often fried and/or dipped in a mayonnaise-based sauce. It's great that I have cut out all sodas and caffeine, but it's not great that I haven't doubled my water consumption to make up for that.
I'm going to need to cut out cheese for a while. The hard facts--1 ounce of cheese is approximately 100 calories, depending on the type of cheese. Here's the shocker--one ounce is a one-inch cube. Say WHAT?! Aside from meat, which I don't eat anymore, it's one of the most calorie-dense things out there. And I eat a lot of it. Nuts are good for me, but not in the quantities I eat. I also drink a lot. If I could actually keep it to one glass of red wine after dinner, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. But I usually drink two, and my wine glasses are HUGE. So I'll need to cut out all my alcohol for a while, with exceptions made for special occasions.
My excuse lately has been the plus-sized modeling. Well, if I'm a size 10, it's possible I could still keep getting the jobs, providing the folks I work with still want to work with me. I don't know if I'm physically capable of getting to a size eight, based on my build. So size ten is an initial goal for me. If we still have "room for improvement", I can set a new goal.
My first hurdle is conquering the "hunger" I always feel. It's not always hunger--it's sometimes boredom or a negative emotion that masquerades as "you need to eat something." Right now, my stomach is growling, so I know I'm actually hungry. I'm going to drink a bottle of water first, and then grab a snack of fresh veggies to tide me over until dinner time. It will get easier every day. I can do this!
The long and short of it is, I'm having a HSG on Monday. That stands for hysterosalpingogram. It's an xray with contrast dye. I'll find out more afterwards about what my odds are of being able to carry a baby to term. But for now, I'm trying to focus on other things. It's not my time yet.
I've gone back on the UAMS plan for the time being. My weight had gotten out of control again. I wasn't all the way back to where I was when I started the plan the first time, but I was almost twenty pounds over my goal weight. My goal is to go beyond my previous "goal weight" and really make an impact on my health and on my future. It's time to stop "settling" for the easier goal. I realize that I am lazy...that I like to relax and hope that my body will decide to be a supermodel on its own. I like to watch TV with a drink in my hand, not eat a carrot and go for a run. But it's time to wake up and face reality. It's great that I am a vegetarian, but it's not great that the seafood I choose to keep as part of my diet is often fried and/or dipped in a mayonnaise-based sauce. It's great that I have cut out all sodas and caffeine, but it's not great that I haven't doubled my water consumption to make up for that.
I'm going to need to cut out cheese for a while. The hard facts--1 ounce of cheese is approximately 100 calories, depending on the type of cheese. Here's the shocker--one ounce is a one-inch cube. Say WHAT?! Aside from meat, which I don't eat anymore, it's one of the most calorie-dense things out there. And I eat a lot of it. Nuts are good for me, but not in the quantities I eat. I also drink a lot. If I could actually keep it to one glass of red wine after dinner, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. But I usually drink two, and my wine glasses are HUGE. So I'll need to cut out all my alcohol for a while, with exceptions made for special occasions.
My excuse lately has been the plus-sized modeling. Well, if I'm a size 10, it's possible I could still keep getting the jobs, providing the folks I work with still want to work with me. I don't know if I'm physically capable of getting to a size eight, based on my build. So size ten is an initial goal for me. If we still have "room for improvement", I can set a new goal.
My first hurdle is conquering the "hunger" I always feel. It's not always hunger--it's sometimes boredom or a negative emotion that masquerades as "you need to eat something." Right now, my stomach is growling, so I know I'm actually hungry. I'm going to drink a bottle of water first, and then grab a snack of fresh veggies to tide me over until dinner time. It will get easier every day. I can do this!
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Unexplained Pain/Pain Explained
So...January was not my best month ever. I spent the majority of the month in pain, doubled over, in bed...not my finest hours. I'm going to be pretty candid in this blog entry, but not gross. I promise.
It all started near the beginning of the month with a bladder infection. I took my antibiotics, like a good girl, and thought that was the end of that. But two days after I finished my antibiotics, my back starts hurting. So I go back to the doctor to see if I should have been on antibiotics longer and the infection has spread to my kidneys. He tells me I have no infection, but that I might have kidney stones again. Which is funny, because kidney stone pain is a very distinct pain that is unmistakable...especially after having two previous bouts with them. I wasn't having that sort of pain. My pain was dull and hot and constant. He schedules an MRI for a few days out and gives me Percoset. Now, I like a good narcotic as much as the next guy, but I don't want to be taking stuff I don't need...at least YET. So I ration them...cutting them in half and only taking them every so often.
I have my MRI on a Thursday, and don't get the results back until the following Tuesday. They call me up and tell me I have multiple kidney stones in each kidney, and a "moderate" sized ovarian cyst. But they don't tell me what to do about it. And I'm drugged when they call, so I don't ask. In the days between the MRI and the call back from the doctor's nurse, the pain spreads from my back to my lower abdomen. I feel swollen, and like my abdomen weighs 400 pounds. I'm not in excruciating pain or anything, but I feel extremely uncomfortable. I'm also nauseous, which is just super.
Two days after the call from the doctor, it is my 30th birthday. I can't get out of bed. The nausea and discomfort are just too much. John takes the day off of work and starts calling doctors and waiting for calls back. My GP says to call my Gynecologist, because, if I'm having pain, it's probably the cyst. My gyno is, of course, not at the office. But the doctor on call has his nurse get a copy of my MRI, and they tell us (on the phone) that it's probably NOT the cyst...go see the urologist. So I do.
After testing my urine for infection (nope, still "clean") and checking to see if my bladder is emptying properly, my urologist has no answers for me. He tells me that he is sorry, but he doesn't know what to tell me. I have kidney stones, but they are tiny, they are not blocking anything, and they are probably the same stones I've had for the past few years since he checked me last.
So at this point, I feel like a crazy person. I am sitting there, in constant pain and discomfort, and people keep passing the buck. I tell John repeatedly that I am NOT a hypochondriac, that I hurt...but I start to wonder if you mentally can create symptoms so severe.
I call my gynecologist, who is already closed for the day. I call the next day, and discover that they are closed on Fridays. I wait through the weekend and call on Monday...three times...and don't get a call back until 5 o'clock. My appointment is scheduled for the following Thursday. You know, because I'm not pregnant, and I'm not in such pain that it warrants an immediate trip to the emergency room. So I gut it out at work as much as I can and wait.
Don't get me wrong, despite the difficulty scheduling the appointment, I really LIKE my gynecologist. I switched to him last year, as he came highly rated from a local doula...and doulas know which docs are the best.
So, I get this ultrasound that, well, makes you feel like you need a cigarette afterwards (any woman who has had one of these knows exactly what I am talking about.) The ultrasound tech, a very pretty young blonde girl, almost immediately asks me when I had my uterus removed.
I haven't had my uterus removed.
So as I am silenty freaking out, she redoubles her effort to find the darn thing, and declares that it is there, it's just "flopped over backwards." So, what...my uterus is lazier than I am? Great. She stumbles over her words for the rest of the scan, presumably because she is embarrassed for scaring me...or maybe because she found something else? She is very quiet as she walks me back to my doctor's office. So now my mind starts wandering. Is it an ectopic pregnancy? Do I have a tumor? Has the cyst grown to epic proportions? It doesn't help that I am moved to three separate waiting areas over the next 20 minutes while waiting for the doctor. (Side note--I get the call from Murry's Dinner Playhouse to be cast in one of their shows in the middle of this. Needless to say, I decide to call them back later.)
My doctor comes in and scoots up next to me to show me the results. He shows me a small cyst on my left ovary, and then an area of fluid where another cyst had recently burst (which explains the swelling, and at least some or all of the pain.) I had a cyst surgically removed a few years back, and had a scare where I worried I would lose my right ovary. It's still in there, but I don't know how well it works.
He then asks me if I knew about my septated uterus before. I tell him I haven't, so he explains. It's a birth defect where your uterus has a partial or full "wall" in the middle. He shows me how my uterus looks sort of like a lazy, flopped over heart. He tells me that people with this sort of thing can still get pregnant, and then changes the subject back to the reason I am there--the pain. He suspects endometriosis, but the only way to diagnose that is to go in surgically and take a look around. He doesn't want to have to do that if he doesn't have to (and I certainly don't want to have to pay for it), so we decide to wait a month to see if the pain comes back, as endometrial pain comes in cycles. If it does, then we'll go in and have a look-see. I am satisfied with this answer. I hope that I do not have endometriosis, as it is painful and can cause infertility from scarring. But I have a family history of it, so I will not be surprised if I do.
However, when I get home, my naturally curious neurotic self has to go on the computer to research "septated uterus." What I learned has put me in a funk that I am just now crawling out of. There are different extents of septated uterus--sometimes a partial wall, sometimes a complete wall. They are all a birth defect--wherein two parts of you, the developing fetus, don't join together as they should in utero. Usually, women don't find out about this abnormality until they have had multiple miscarriages. Finding out the extent of the septation requires a dye test where they inject you with dye and study where the blood flows. The main thing that freaks me out is not that you can't get pregnant, but that it is very difficult to carry a baby to term with this type of uterus. The baby runs out of room, can't turn around, and if it implanted on this wall, doesn't get enough blood to survive. If the baby can't turn, then you have to have a c-section. Women with a septated uterus can have many early and late term miscarriages. Miscarriages, at any stage of the game, are truly devastating. I am lucky that I am learning about this now, before something like that repeatedly happened to me and my husband.
The good news is, you can have surgery to remove the wall. But I'm definitely going to need to get some more information about the extent of my wall first. So, for now, I just wait. I wait to see if my pain comes back (it has waned a lot in the past couple weeks), and if it doesn't...then I decide how long I want to wait before going back to the doctor again to find out more about my funny uterus and what I need to do to fix it.
I've heard many women share the same thought I am about to share. I've spent years of my adult life trying not to get pregnant...and when the time comes when I just start THINKING about it, I discover that it won't be as easy as I thought. I love the Duggars...but I can't imagine what I would think about that show if I never carry a baby to term.
So, that's what's going on in my mind these days. I went back to the gym for the first time in almost a month yesterday, and it was pretty rough. But I can't turn into a lump just because I don't feel good. I start a show at Murry's in April, so that's exciting. I'm planning on auditioning for at least one of the shows at TWT this summer, so I can start focusing on my audition for that now. Anything I can do to stay busy is great.
I'll keep writing about what happens to me here. I hope this blog doesn't turn into a chronicle of a long quest to ensure I can have a baby, but if it does, so be it.
It all started near the beginning of the month with a bladder infection. I took my antibiotics, like a good girl, and thought that was the end of that. But two days after I finished my antibiotics, my back starts hurting. So I go back to the doctor to see if I should have been on antibiotics longer and the infection has spread to my kidneys. He tells me I have no infection, but that I might have kidney stones again. Which is funny, because kidney stone pain is a very distinct pain that is unmistakable...especially after having two previous bouts with them. I wasn't having that sort of pain. My pain was dull and hot and constant. He schedules an MRI for a few days out and gives me Percoset. Now, I like a good narcotic as much as the next guy, but I don't want to be taking stuff I don't need...at least YET. So I ration them...cutting them in half and only taking them every so often.
I have my MRI on a Thursday, and don't get the results back until the following Tuesday. They call me up and tell me I have multiple kidney stones in each kidney, and a "moderate" sized ovarian cyst. But they don't tell me what to do about it. And I'm drugged when they call, so I don't ask. In the days between the MRI and the call back from the doctor's nurse, the pain spreads from my back to my lower abdomen. I feel swollen, and like my abdomen weighs 400 pounds. I'm not in excruciating pain or anything, but I feel extremely uncomfortable. I'm also nauseous, which is just super.
Two days after the call from the doctor, it is my 30th birthday. I can't get out of bed. The nausea and discomfort are just too much. John takes the day off of work and starts calling doctors and waiting for calls back. My GP says to call my Gynecologist, because, if I'm having pain, it's probably the cyst. My gyno is, of course, not at the office. But the doctor on call has his nurse get a copy of my MRI, and they tell us (on the phone) that it's probably NOT the cyst...go see the urologist. So I do.
After testing my urine for infection (nope, still "clean") and checking to see if my bladder is emptying properly, my urologist has no answers for me. He tells me that he is sorry, but he doesn't know what to tell me. I have kidney stones, but they are tiny, they are not blocking anything, and they are probably the same stones I've had for the past few years since he checked me last.
So at this point, I feel like a crazy person. I am sitting there, in constant pain and discomfort, and people keep passing the buck. I tell John repeatedly that I am NOT a hypochondriac, that I hurt...but I start to wonder if you mentally can create symptoms so severe.
I call my gynecologist, who is already closed for the day. I call the next day, and discover that they are closed on Fridays. I wait through the weekend and call on Monday...three times...and don't get a call back until 5 o'clock. My appointment is scheduled for the following Thursday. You know, because I'm not pregnant, and I'm not in such pain that it warrants an immediate trip to the emergency room. So I gut it out at work as much as I can and wait.
Don't get me wrong, despite the difficulty scheduling the appointment, I really LIKE my gynecologist. I switched to him last year, as he came highly rated from a local doula...and doulas know which docs are the best.
So, I get this ultrasound that, well, makes you feel like you need a cigarette afterwards (any woman who has had one of these knows exactly what I am talking about.) The ultrasound tech, a very pretty young blonde girl, almost immediately asks me when I had my uterus removed.
I haven't had my uterus removed.
So as I am silenty freaking out, she redoubles her effort to find the darn thing, and declares that it is there, it's just "flopped over backwards." So, what...my uterus is lazier than I am? Great. She stumbles over her words for the rest of the scan, presumably because she is embarrassed for scaring me...or maybe because she found something else? She is very quiet as she walks me back to my doctor's office. So now my mind starts wandering. Is it an ectopic pregnancy? Do I have a tumor? Has the cyst grown to epic proportions? It doesn't help that I am moved to three separate waiting areas over the next 20 minutes while waiting for the doctor. (Side note--I get the call from Murry's Dinner Playhouse to be cast in one of their shows in the middle of this. Needless to say, I decide to call them back later.)
My doctor comes in and scoots up next to me to show me the results. He shows me a small cyst on my left ovary, and then an area of fluid where another cyst had recently burst (which explains the swelling, and at least some or all of the pain.) I had a cyst surgically removed a few years back, and had a scare where I worried I would lose my right ovary. It's still in there, but I don't know how well it works.
He then asks me if I knew about my septated uterus before. I tell him I haven't, so he explains. It's a birth defect where your uterus has a partial or full "wall" in the middle. He shows me how my uterus looks sort of like a lazy, flopped over heart. He tells me that people with this sort of thing can still get pregnant, and then changes the subject back to the reason I am there--the pain. He suspects endometriosis, but the only way to diagnose that is to go in surgically and take a look around. He doesn't want to have to do that if he doesn't have to (and I certainly don't want to have to pay for it), so we decide to wait a month to see if the pain comes back, as endometrial pain comes in cycles. If it does, then we'll go in and have a look-see. I am satisfied with this answer. I hope that I do not have endometriosis, as it is painful and can cause infertility from scarring. But I have a family history of it, so I will not be surprised if I do.
However, when I get home, my naturally curious neurotic self has to go on the computer to research "septated uterus." What I learned has put me in a funk that I am just now crawling out of. There are different extents of septated uterus--sometimes a partial wall, sometimes a complete wall. They are all a birth defect--wherein two parts of you, the developing fetus, don't join together as they should in utero. Usually, women don't find out about this abnormality until they have had multiple miscarriages. Finding out the extent of the septation requires a dye test where they inject you with dye and study where the blood flows. The main thing that freaks me out is not that you can't get pregnant, but that it is very difficult to carry a baby to term with this type of uterus. The baby runs out of room, can't turn around, and if it implanted on this wall, doesn't get enough blood to survive. If the baby can't turn, then you have to have a c-section. Women with a septated uterus can have many early and late term miscarriages. Miscarriages, at any stage of the game, are truly devastating. I am lucky that I am learning about this now, before something like that repeatedly happened to me and my husband.
The good news is, you can have surgery to remove the wall. But I'm definitely going to need to get some more information about the extent of my wall first. So, for now, I just wait. I wait to see if my pain comes back (it has waned a lot in the past couple weeks), and if it doesn't...then I decide how long I want to wait before going back to the doctor again to find out more about my funny uterus and what I need to do to fix it.
I've heard many women share the same thought I am about to share. I've spent years of my adult life trying not to get pregnant...and when the time comes when I just start THINKING about it, I discover that it won't be as easy as I thought. I love the Duggars...but I can't imagine what I would think about that show if I never carry a baby to term.
So, that's what's going on in my mind these days. I went back to the gym for the first time in almost a month yesterday, and it was pretty rough. But I can't turn into a lump just because I don't feel good. I start a show at Murry's in April, so that's exciting. I'm planning on auditioning for at least one of the shows at TWT this summer, so I can start focusing on my audition for that now. Anything I can do to stay busy is great.
I'll keep writing about what happens to me here. I hope this blog doesn't turn into a chronicle of a long quest to ensure I can have a baby, but if it does, so be it.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
2010--the year of ME
Happy New Year, everyone!
I'm going to be thirty in a few days. THIRTY. Dirty thirty. Geez. I don't FEEL thirty...but I'm noticing a few things. I have veins popping up the back of my hands, which really freaked me out the first time I noticed it. I have bags under my eyes and little wrinkles. I'm also a lot more forgetful than I used to be...although my mind was never a steel trap. And, of course, my weight just wants to be disagreeable.
We joined a new gym a couple of months ago, and I like it okay. The machines there are actually better than the ones at my last gym, so that's good. I managed to get REALLY out of shape in just a couple of weeks. I guess that's what the holidays will do to you. I need to tighten things up, but I can't lose more than one size and keep the plus sized modeling gigs. Unless I get down to a size 6, and I really don't see that happening.
I haven't had any meat (on purpose) for a couple of months now. I did accidentally eat some in a casserole, but I guess that's always a danger. I am eating a lot of seafood, so that's fun. I need to work on eating smaller meals more often throughout the day. And I'm STILL not eating breakfast. I should know better, I know...but I just hate eating in the morning. I haven't had ANY carbonated beverages and very little (if any) caffeine--I wasn't willing to give up hot chocolate. I rarely get headaches these days, unless I'm dehydrated. I'm trying to stick to only one glass of red wine a night, but that's not going as well. Maybe Whole Foods carries boxed wine...
I'm gearing up for auditions at Murry's Dinner Playhouse. I need to focus on working as much as possible in theater/modeling/commercial work so that I can transition into doing that as my "real" job. This is going to be the year I make that happen. I'm really determined to make this happened. I'm getting really antsy about it, and am ready to finally be able to say that I do what I always set out to do. It's reached the point where I am just plain impatient. Back in college, I knew that I was a good actress, and a good enough singer to do musical theater and get some pretty decent roles. It's about time I got paid for it as my real job. I've got lots of power ballads running through my head, about how nobody and no one is going to stop me now. (Defying Gravity, I Am Changing, Nobody's Going to Rain on My Parade, Rose's Turn, etc.) It's on. I have GOT to do this now, before I have kids. Time to stop waiting for the stars to align. It's time to push the stars into place.
Random question: why is it that every time I am feeling good and gung ho about being healthy the stupid "Perfect Brownie" commercial comes on, and all bets are off? I mean, don't get me wrong. I'll probably buy one. I'm just saying.
I'm going to be thirty in a few days. THIRTY. Dirty thirty. Geez. I don't FEEL thirty...but I'm noticing a few things. I have veins popping up the back of my hands, which really freaked me out the first time I noticed it. I have bags under my eyes and little wrinkles. I'm also a lot more forgetful than I used to be...although my mind was never a steel trap. And, of course, my weight just wants to be disagreeable.
We joined a new gym a couple of months ago, and I like it okay. The machines there are actually better than the ones at my last gym, so that's good. I managed to get REALLY out of shape in just a couple of weeks. I guess that's what the holidays will do to you. I need to tighten things up, but I can't lose more than one size and keep the plus sized modeling gigs. Unless I get down to a size 6, and I really don't see that happening.
I haven't had any meat (on purpose) for a couple of months now. I did accidentally eat some in a casserole, but I guess that's always a danger. I am eating a lot of seafood, so that's fun. I need to work on eating smaller meals more often throughout the day. And I'm STILL not eating breakfast. I should know better, I know...but I just hate eating in the morning. I haven't had ANY carbonated beverages and very little (if any) caffeine--I wasn't willing to give up hot chocolate. I rarely get headaches these days, unless I'm dehydrated. I'm trying to stick to only one glass of red wine a night, but that's not going as well. Maybe Whole Foods carries boxed wine...
I'm gearing up for auditions at Murry's Dinner Playhouse. I need to focus on working as much as possible in theater/modeling/commercial work so that I can transition into doing that as my "real" job. This is going to be the year I make that happen. I'm really determined to make this happened. I'm getting really antsy about it, and am ready to finally be able to say that I do what I always set out to do. It's reached the point where I am just plain impatient. Back in college, I knew that I was a good actress, and a good enough singer to do musical theater and get some pretty decent roles. It's about time I got paid for it as my real job. I've got lots of power ballads running through my head, about how nobody and no one is going to stop me now. (Defying Gravity, I Am Changing, Nobody's Going to Rain on My Parade, Rose's Turn, etc.) It's on. I have GOT to do this now, before I have kids. Time to stop waiting for the stars to align. It's time to push the stars into place.
Random question: why is it that every time I am feeling good and gung ho about being healthy the stupid "Perfect Brownie" commercial comes on, and all bets are off? I mean, don't get me wrong. I'll probably buy one. I'm just saying.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Welcome Back
Well, hello there!
I've taken a shamefully long hiatus from blogging, although I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Lots of stuff going on with work, vacations, Swine Flu (John, not me), and kiddos. FYI--if you are a healthy adult who is not pregnant, you'll feel pretty bad with Swine Flu for a couple of days, but it doesn't last nearly as long as the regular flu, and from what I hear it isn't quite as rough as the regular flu. I was taking care of John for a week, and I never caught it.
Also, kids will be kids, and they will get hurt, no matter what you do. It's impossible to watch them all the time, especially on small indoor playgrounds where there is no room for parents to sit in there and supervise. That being said, it is a terrifying and sad thing to see someone so tiny be in pain. It is also very cute to see a tiny little person with a giant cast dancing. I'm glad she isn't hurting anymore, and that she will have the cast off within a couple of weeks.
I've had a couple of modeling gigs recently, and am really excited to be doing plus-sized modeling. I was in two ads in the paper locally, which was really exciting. I feel like I'm getting more and more comfortable with it each time, and hope to have many more experiences with it. I always wanted to be a plus-sized model. Scout's honor--I always thought that would be really cool. And since the average American woman is a size 14 these days, I may have more and more work. That doesn't mean that I am going to stop trying to lose weight and be healthy. And that doesn't mean I am not concerned that America is suffering from an obesity epidemic. Sure, everyone has the right to eat what they like and be as sedentary as they choose. That doesn't mean that I have to follow the crowd.
I recently re-read "Skinny Bitch", which always makes me laugh and makes me think. The last time I read it, I decided to try my hand at veganism, but that was a little bit of a stretch for me. Plus, it makes grocery shopping inconvenient when you're married to someone and have a couple of stepchildren who love their cheese and meat and such.
So, I'm attempting to take smaller steps to feel better about what I eat--for my conscience as well as for my well being.
First, (and this has nothing to do with animal cruelty or slaughterhouses but everything to do with being bloated and jittery and being vain about my tooth enamel) I have given up sodas and caffeine. This was extremely hard to do, since I lurrrrrrve Coke Zero. Plus, the headaches were terrible for a week. However, after about two and a half weeks, it is not as big of a deal now. My main concern at first was drink mixers...which lets you know how skewed my priorities can be sometimes. Hello Bloody Mary.
Actually, if I was being really strict about it from a health perspective, I wouldn't drink any beer or hard liquor, and would limit myself to organic, sulfite-free wine. I did get a sulfite free bottle of Syrah from Whole Foods the other night for (brace yourselves) $5.90 AFTER tax. The first glass was a little astringent-tasting. After the first glass, I really enjoyed myself with it and sang its praises. Although, I should stick to one glass...maybe two...to enjoy its health privileges.
I also did some hard thinking about the issue of meat, and where it comes from. I've often checked our local Whole Foods market for grass-fed beef, but they never have any. I read about the terrible conditions that animals are kept in, the hormones and antibiotics used to keep them alive and jumbo sized, the things they eat (calves eat feed with cow's blood in it--gross), and the way they are killed and prepared for consumption. Now, don't get me wrong--I REALLY enjoy a nice filet mignon, lamb, or a big ole greasy hamburger. I even like hot dogs and sausages. I've never been a fan of chicken, but I do enjoy turkey once or twice a year at holiday time. But could I live without meat? It will be hard, but I think for the most part, yes. However, there is no way in hell that I could live without seafood. I grew up on the coast, after all. I'm still trying to figure out how I could live without Barq's rootbeer. At least it is caffeine free, if I indulge once or twice a year.
Being a Pesco vegetarian means that you eat fish, eggs, milk, honey...it's less strict than just plain vegetarianism, and much less strict than veganism. But, hey, it's a start. I've not eaten meat on purpose for about two weeks. I ate part a croissant that had swiss cheese in it, and then realized towards the end that it had a little ham in it. Whoops. And in the first couple of days I ate a whole bowl of chicken soup out of sheer forgetfulness. But, all in all, not bad. I'm eating a lot more vegetables right now, and am really in love with winter vegetables like squashes right now. I made a really awesome butternut squash soup, using applesauce and curry rather than heavy cream. Delicious, and John LOVED it. John roasted some corn on the grill, and I don't think I want to have it any other way now. When he grills a steak or hamburger, he grills me a big ole portabello mushroom.
And that's another thing. I'm not going to be all "holier than thou" about my food choices. Most of the vegetarians I know I really respect, because they never bring it up. John wants to eat meat, and that's fine. I never asked him not to. If I eat at someone's house, I won't make a big deal about it. I'll just eat what I can and keep it a non-issue. I remember a dinner long ago with vegan acquaintances who refused to eat anything and looked at the rest of us with haughty disgust all night. It really turned me off to the word "vegan" for a long time. I'm not doing this to make other people have to listen to me preach...I'm doing this for me. Already, my stomach feels better, and my face is thinner. So, maybe it's half conceit, half concern...but I don't feel too bad about my reasons.
Oh, and I got my "Shake Weight" from the infomercial. It is just as hilarious as you think it would be. To "up the ridiculous ante", it even makes a funny "whiff whiff whiff" sound when you shake it, like it has gas. But I stop giggling and really feel the burn during the 6 minute work out DVD that came with it...especially in my shoulders. I don't think I'm doing it quite right yet, but as my wrists get stronger, I'm sure I will get better at it.
My gym closed last week...I'm waiting to see if another one opens in its place. But not too long. I can go from month to month at another gym nearby. So, we'll see how that goes.
I'm feeling kind of puny today, and am enjoying the sunbeam I am sitting in quite a lot. I think some butternut squash soup will really hit the spot right now.
Until next time...
I've taken a shamefully long hiatus from blogging, although I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Lots of stuff going on with work, vacations, Swine Flu (John, not me), and kiddos. FYI--if you are a healthy adult who is not pregnant, you'll feel pretty bad with Swine Flu for a couple of days, but it doesn't last nearly as long as the regular flu, and from what I hear it isn't quite as rough as the regular flu. I was taking care of John for a week, and I never caught it.
Also, kids will be kids, and they will get hurt, no matter what you do. It's impossible to watch them all the time, especially on small indoor playgrounds where there is no room for parents to sit in there and supervise. That being said, it is a terrifying and sad thing to see someone so tiny be in pain. It is also very cute to see a tiny little person with a giant cast dancing. I'm glad she isn't hurting anymore, and that she will have the cast off within a couple of weeks.
I've had a couple of modeling gigs recently, and am really excited to be doing plus-sized modeling. I was in two ads in the paper locally, which was really exciting. I feel like I'm getting more and more comfortable with it each time, and hope to have many more experiences with it. I always wanted to be a plus-sized model. Scout's honor--I always thought that would be really cool. And since the average American woman is a size 14 these days, I may have more and more work. That doesn't mean that I am going to stop trying to lose weight and be healthy. And that doesn't mean I am not concerned that America is suffering from an obesity epidemic. Sure, everyone has the right to eat what they like and be as sedentary as they choose. That doesn't mean that I have to follow the crowd.
I recently re-read "Skinny Bitch", which always makes me laugh and makes me think. The last time I read it, I decided to try my hand at veganism, but that was a little bit of a stretch for me. Plus, it makes grocery shopping inconvenient when you're married to someone and have a couple of stepchildren who love their cheese and meat and such.
So, I'm attempting to take smaller steps to feel better about what I eat--for my conscience as well as for my well being.
First, (and this has nothing to do with animal cruelty or slaughterhouses but everything to do with being bloated and jittery and being vain about my tooth enamel) I have given up sodas and caffeine. This was extremely hard to do, since I lurrrrrrve Coke Zero. Plus, the headaches were terrible for a week. However, after about two and a half weeks, it is not as big of a deal now. My main concern at first was drink mixers...which lets you know how skewed my priorities can be sometimes. Hello Bloody Mary.
Actually, if I was being really strict about it from a health perspective, I wouldn't drink any beer or hard liquor, and would limit myself to organic, sulfite-free wine. I did get a sulfite free bottle of Syrah from Whole Foods the other night for (brace yourselves) $5.90 AFTER tax. The first glass was a little astringent-tasting. After the first glass, I really enjoyed myself with it and sang its praises. Although, I should stick to one glass...maybe two...to enjoy its health privileges.
I also did some hard thinking about the issue of meat, and where it comes from. I've often checked our local Whole Foods market for grass-fed beef, but they never have any. I read about the terrible conditions that animals are kept in, the hormones and antibiotics used to keep them alive and jumbo sized, the things they eat (calves eat feed with cow's blood in it--gross), and the way they are killed and prepared for consumption. Now, don't get me wrong--I REALLY enjoy a nice filet mignon, lamb, or a big ole greasy hamburger. I even like hot dogs and sausages. I've never been a fan of chicken, but I do enjoy turkey once or twice a year at holiday time. But could I live without meat? It will be hard, but I think for the most part, yes. However, there is no way in hell that I could live without seafood. I grew up on the coast, after all. I'm still trying to figure out how I could live without Barq's rootbeer. At least it is caffeine free, if I indulge once or twice a year.
Being a Pesco vegetarian means that you eat fish, eggs, milk, honey...it's less strict than just plain vegetarianism, and much less strict than veganism. But, hey, it's a start. I've not eaten meat on purpose for about two weeks. I ate part a croissant that had swiss cheese in it, and then realized towards the end that it had a little ham in it. Whoops. And in the first couple of days I ate a whole bowl of chicken soup out of sheer forgetfulness. But, all in all, not bad. I'm eating a lot more vegetables right now, and am really in love with winter vegetables like squashes right now. I made a really awesome butternut squash soup, using applesauce and curry rather than heavy cream. Delicious, and John LOVED it. John roasted some corn on the grill, and I don't think I want to have it any other way now. When he grills a steak or hamburger, he grills me a big ole portabello mushroom.
And that's another thing. I'm not going to be all "holier than thou" about my food choices. Most of the vegetarians I know I really respect, because they never bring it up. John wants to eat meat, and that's fine. I never asked him not to. If I eat at someone's house, I won't make a big deal about it. I'll just eat what I can and keep it a non-issue. I remember a dinner long ago with vegan acquaintances who refused to eat anything and looked at the rest of us with haughty disgust all night. It really turned me off to the word "vegan" for a long time. I'm not doing this to make other people have to listen to me preach...I'm doing this for me. Already, my stomach feels better, and my face is thinner. So, maybe it's half conceit, half concern...but I don't feel too bad about my reasons.
Oh, and I got my "Shake Weight" from the infomercial. It is just as hilarious as you think it would be. To "up the ridiculous ante", it even makes a funny "whiff whiff whiff" sound when you shake it, like it has gas. But I stop giggling and really feel the burn during the 6 minute work out DVD that came with it...especially in my shoulders. I don't think I'm doing it quite right yet, but as my wrists get stronger, I'm sure I will get better at it.
My gym closed last week...I'm waiting to see if another one opens in its place. But not too long. I can go from month to month at another gym nearby. So, we'll see how that goes.
I'm feeling kind of puny today, and am enjoying the sunbeam I am sitting in quite a lot. I think some butternut squash soup will really hit the spot right now.
Until next time...
Sunday, September 27, 2009
"No Offense"
At a party the other night, someone insulted what I and my husband do for a living while talking to us, immediately following the comment with "no offense." Yes, this person already knew that was our livelihood, so it wasn't an "accident". I know that the appropriate response to "no offense" is "none taken." But COME ON. We sell insurance to protect people's loved ones from financial ruin if they die or become disabled. We don't murder kittens. (I suppose now the make-believe "polite" thing to do would be to say "all you professional kitten murderers out there, no offense.")
Can someone explain to me how saying "no offense" excuses you from a rude or thoughtless comment? Saying "no offense" does not make what you are saying less offensive. Does that mean you can get away with saying "I've always felt you were fat and stupid and lazy. No offense." And then the recipient is supposed to say "None taken." Seriously?
In my mind, there's only ONE way to get away with saying something like that without being tactless. It goes a little something like this:
"I used to think __________________. No offense. But NOW, I realize that _____________." I think that if you cannot say that and it be true, then just DON'T SAY ANYTHING. It doesn't make you look good in the other person's eyes. It makes them realize that you don't respect them or what they do. So they'll probably try to steer clear from you in the future.
I don't think I'm going to be quite as nice as I have usually been in situations like that from now on. I think I might respond with something along the lines of "why would you feel the need to say something like that to me?" Because, let's be honest, saying "bless your heart" doesn't excuse the fact that you are insulting someone either. I don't care how silky your voice sounds when you say it. You're still a viper.
On another note, I got a letter in the mail to let me know that my gym is closing at the end of this month. Just when I was getting comfortable with going. For me to go to a gym, it has to be convenient and inexpensive. When I say convenient, I mean ultra-convenient...like really close to my work or home. Otherwise, I'm not going to go. I can be honest enough to admit that. I'm a little beside myself about this right now, and am not sure quite what to do about it.
Tonight I'm going to bake some hearty bread and contemplate what my fitness future holds...while trying not to eat too many of the buttery rolls I baked last night for the "Our Town" strike that were not ready by the time strike had ended. Poo.
Can someone explain to me how saying "no offense" excuses you from a rude or thoughtless comment? Saying "no offense" does not make what you are saying less offensive. Does that mean you can get away with saying "I've always felt you were fat and stupid and lazy. No offense." And then the recipient is supposed to say "None taken." Seriously?
In my mind, there's only ONE way to get away with saying something like that without being tactless. It goes a little something like this:
"I used to think __________________. No offense. But NOW, I realize that _____________." I think that if you cannot say that and it be true, then just DON'T SAY ANYTHING. It doesn't make you look good in the other person's eyes. It makes them realize that you don't respect them or what they do. So they'll probably try to steer clear from you in the future.
I don't think I'm going to be quite as nice as I have usually been in situations like that from now on. I think I might respond with something along the lines of "why would you feel the need to say something like that to me?" Because, let's be honest, saying "bless your heart" doesn't excuse the fact that you are insulting someone either. I don't care how silky your voice sounds when you say it. You're still a viper.
On another note, I got a letter in the mail to let me know that my gym is closing at the end of this month. Just when I was getting comfortable with going. For me to go to a gym, it has to be convenient and inexpensive. When I say convenient, I mean ultra-convenient...like really close to my work or home. Otherwise, I'm not going to go. I can be honest enough to admit that. I'm a little beside myself about this right now, and am not sure quite what to do about it.
Tonight I'm going to bake some hearty bread and contemplate what my fitness future holds...while trying not to eat too many of the buttery rolls I baked last night for the "Our Town" strike that were not ready by the time strike had ended. Poo.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
