I am soooooooooo proud of the wife....she gave up diet pop three months ago and has stuck to it. This is quite the momentous feat, considering she has been drinking diet pop her whole life. I never thought I'd live to see the day she would cease consumption of her beloved Golden Arches Diet Coke. She loved that stuff almost much as....... her car. (You didn't think I was going to say me, did you??) In fact, she insisted it must have cocaine in it because it was sooooo good and sooooo addictive.
I've been bitching about diet pop for years on end. I stopped drinking pop (or, do you say soda?) in 1997 and have never looked back. I had been seeing this holistic health lady and she said the diet pop had to go (that, and the mercury fillings in my teeth). I thought she was nuts, but I did it anyway. I owe that lady a huge thanks because those simple changes were quite helpful in the health department. (Bonus points for my teeth look better because there is no silver poison shining through my pearly whites.)
The wife had been feeling constantly achy and ridiculously lethargic with nary a reason to be found. Insult to injury, she was unable to lose the weight of which she had slowly gained over the past few years.
I'd like to say I was her motivation but I had nothing to do with it. The scale was the ultimate motivation. One day I heard a terrifying scream from the basement, home of the scale.
That was the end of diet pop.
So, she went cold turkey. She "enjoyed" a day or two of what I considered horrific and understandable withdrawal symptoms and didn't get off the couch for a day or two. She had a massive headache and was not in the cheeriest of moods. Still, she hung in there. Caffeine be damned, she gutted it out. She kept her eye on the prize: remaining diet pop free. The specific prize the eye was on? One bazillion less chemicals filling the wife's very
being, with a side of being less achy and lethargic. Losing weight would be a delicious bonus.
Guess what? The wife is no longer achy, feels more energetic, is
not as hungry as she used to be and......she's lost almost ten pounds.
What a woman!!! I ooze with pride and gasp in wonder. Seriously, this is big stuff in the Addiverse. It's like me giving up chocolate.
Now that she has gone three months, I felt it safe to interview her on her successes.
Here's the official transcript of my interview with the diet-pop-free grrrrrl:
Me: Do you say pop or soda?
The Wife: "I guess I say pop now."
Me: Huh?
The Wife: "I used to say soda until I moved here." (Insert scoff at the flaterlander way of saying soda.)
Me: When did you start drinking diet pop?
The Wife: "I've basically drunk it my whole life."
Me: Why? (Barbara Walters has nothing on my interviewing prowess.)
The Wife: "Calories."
Me: What did you like about diet pop?
The Wife: "I liked how it tasted and how it made feel--the caffeine. It was a pick me up."
Me: What was it about McD's Diet Coke that was so special?
The Wife: "It was clean and crisp tasting." (Seriously. She said that.)
Me: What motivated you to quit diet pop?
The Wife: "Stepping on the Scale."
Me: But, it's diet pop. How did that tie to the scale?
The Wife: "Because I knew I had to do something more healthy. And, I've heard people said they'd lost weight after giving up diet pop."
Me: What else have you changed?
The Wife: "I'm taking my lunch to work instead of going out so much. I'm not eating after dinner."
Note to readers: she's never been a big after-dinner eater. I've always been impressed by that. I need a snack. Or, two.)
Me: Do you miss it? Diet pop, that is.
The Wife: [emphatically and without any hesitation] "No."
Me: Do you feel differently now?
The Wife: I'm not achy anymore. I'm not as hungry anymore. I overall feel better."
Me: What are you drinking instead?
The wife: "Carbonated waters and juices. Water. I dilute the juices with water."
Me: What's next on the agenda?
The Wife: "Move more."
Me: I hope you mean exercise more and not move to the land of soda.
The Wife: "Going for a walk."
I like it. No need for unnecessary pressure of a formal game plan. Take it as it comes. One walk at a time, Sweet Jesus.
There may or may not be correlation between giving up diet pop and losing weight; the jury is still out on that in the scientific world. I've seen it enough times with my own eyes to vote that there is weight loss when stopping diet pop. Eating brown bag lunches certainly added to the wife's success but I believe the diet pop was the catalyst to her journey of wellness and weight loss.
Lest there be any sad, bad feelings in the Addiverse, please know that I judge no one for their love and consumption of diet pop. Most of our friends love diet pop and that's all good with me. Heck, I drank diet pop from 1970-1997, so I have no room to judge anyone. (Tab. I drank Tab. What a delightfully awful product that was! And, what a great pink can.) I'm just glad the wife is no longer drinking it. She is an inspiration.
If she goes back hitting the soda bottle, so be it.... but, my money says she won't. She's an incredibly dedicated person when it comes to making a change. She says something, she does it. The wife puts her money where her mouth is. Mess with her, if you dare....but,
....I wouldn't mess with her. She's energetic and lighter. My money is fully on her.
*****************************************************************************************************
Saturday, October 31, 2015
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Beaming and Binging
For those of you who are part-taking in the "ten year-zero-views" project, I hope you are enjoying the opportunity to read posts that have few if any views. I know I've enjoying flashing back. I've embraced this project and am updating all sorts of things, most of
which I'm not re-posting. I can't leave the less-than-fabulous posts out
there for anyone to see.
I've noticed a few things about the decade-old posts:
(1) Many are super-dated; in fact, it is almost mind-boggling how much things have changed in such a short time. To my 20 year old nieces, ten years is an eternity. To me, it seems like yesterday...only yesterday is a whole lot different than today. Who knew?
(2) Many blog posts don't stand alone--they don't make full sense without reading previous blogs. That's good and bad. I'd prefer they stand alone--like a good trypic in art, the three paintings work as a whole yet can still stand on their own. So, as I re-work them, I am designing to be stand-alone. This effort won't solve world hunger or win a Pulitzer but it will make me feel better about my electronically-shared efforts.
(3) The older posts tend to be shorter in length and more frequent in post, as I used to write much, much more frequently. I think it's a sign of good mental health that I'm writing less.
(4) Poop stands the test of time. Lots of poop posts. For this, I am proud. In fact, all of the bodily function posts seem relevant. (Well, define relevant.)
Let's see how long it takes for this post to become dated and irrelevant....
**********************************************************************************************************
Between Netflix and YouTube, one can lose days of life without realizing it. A blessing and a curse, this approach to media has left me blurry-eyed and a pound heavier. (Hey, one has to keep up her sugar level while working to stay focused. Snacking is a must.) This week, I managed to binge watch Season One of "Game of Thrones" (gave me nightmares--ugh--don't know if I can watch any more of that show), Season 8 of "Doctor Who" and Seasons 1, 2 and 6 of "Glee." I still had time to go to work and eat but other than that, I did little else. I don't know what inspired this ridiculous way of being but I was moved to not move.
I became one with the couch and stared at the tablet, laptop and/or TV with abandon.
This binge-watching way of life has become very popular. I often hear co-workers or friends talk about their netflixing over the weekend. I thought taking cell phone photos of everything (instead of staying in there here and now) was bad enough; we've digressed to sitting on the couch for 12 hours at a time instead of walking anywhere besides to the bathroom or mail box.
The wife does not understand or embrace binge-watching. She suggests I must not have anything else to do. Oh, I do. I have things to do. Such things just have to wait.
Perhaps, from a psychological standpoint, I should contemplate what I am avoiding. But, I really don't think I'm avoiding much of anything. I had an entire Saturday to my schedule and I chose to spend it eating chocolate and watching a mind-numbing amount of electronic visual arts. (Art being a relative term.) I am fortunate to have much less work to do on the weekends--my job doesn't require all the after hours work it once used to require. On the other hand, the wife is ALWAYS working. She doesn't have time or interest in staring at a screen for hours at a time. (Those who think being a professor is a cake walk are wong. Shame on you. The lady is always doing work. Right now she's reading all sorts of dribble about peers up for tenure. I'm exhausted just thinking about her schedule.)
Thankfully, I am now over-saturated and ready to return to the land of the living. I've had suggestions of other series to watch but I can't do it right now. It will have to wait until I build my stamina.
As for cell phone cameras....when I go places, I've noticed that everyone is taking photos instead of staying in the here and now. That's why I've been trying to not take photos--instead, I've been actually LOOKING at things, living things, enjoying things. My biggest effort in the past month was at the Madonna concert. Every where I looked, cell phones were in the air, pointed toward the stage. I would say at least 75% of those in attendance spent their time watching the concert via their cell phone screens. I took a few photos at the beginning and then put my phone away.
I allowed myself to be immersed in the happening. If I can do this, anyone can do this. Trust me. I love my phone. I love having instant access to just about anything or anyone. But, living is beyond my phone. Life is out there, not in there.
This phone-beyond-a-phone thing is a permeating phenomenon. The texting-internet-camera phone thing has led to a whole new culture, a new way of being. I see this every day at work when new employees come to training. When I take a photo for the employee badge, I am corrected and told to take the photo from a bit higher perspective--meaning like how one takes a selfie. "It makes you look so much better," they tell me.
So, I take non-selfie selfies.
The photos don't look any better to me but they look a billion percent better to the employee, so I go with it. If they don't like the photo I take, I give them an option of taking a selfie and texting it to me.
We have some pretty entertaining employee badges right now.
Soon, no one will talk or even look up. If I were a chiropractor, I'd be licking my chops. They have to be seeing a profound increase in neck injuries, as everyone is always bent over looking at their phone screens.
Don't get me wrong--I just spent a week holding or staring at an electronic device every waking moment when not at work. These comments are not a judgement on anyone.
It is an observation of the world going round and round.
Sometimes, I think about how we are bombarded....zapped....flooded with beams and signals and frequencies and electronic waves. Every single moment of our lives, we are awash in particles of this and that. I wonder what we would think if we could actually see these things? Would we be terrified, mystified or awe-inspired?
Sometimes, I think my clients with mental illness are onto something. They talk about things being beamed from space into their apartments or into their very beings.... who am I to say they are wrong? It's actually rather true. When they talk about the beams coming from the satellite to their electric sockets or TV or radio, they are actually correct....maybe they can see what we cannot.
Perhaps we should applaud them rather than medicate them. Instead of asking what antipsychotic shoud be prescribed, we should be asking, "What on Earth is all this "stuff" doing to our very beings?"
Counting the niece living with us, we have two routers, at least three computers in use (sometimes, I have my work computer at home and the wife has a work computer, too--so, that's opportunity for five computers at one time), four cell phones, three tablets, and god knows how many iPods. We hook things up via blue tooth and routers. We text, we call, we email, we post.
That's a lot of zapping and beaming.
I'm glad clients can't come to my house. They'd scare the shit out of me with all the things they'd describe and see.
All this thinking has inspired me to step away from the electronics and actually go outside for a few minutes. Today, I am going to post this blog, turn off (and put away) my computer, stay away from my tablet, turn off my cell phone and not turn on the TV until football comes on.....
That's in 2 hours, 15 minutes. I know I can go that long without any electronics in my life. I may shake and groan a little bit, but I can make it.
My electronics have become unmanagable. But, they will be the powerless ones, not me.
After all, I'm turning off their power. I have the power for them to be powerless. The beams and signals will still be there will be a bit less zapping directly into my being for a few minutes.
Perhaps I can binge read books this week instead of binge-watching anything. As long as it's a real book, not an electric copy, it's all good.
Beam me down, Scotty. You can beam me up later.
I've noticed a few things about the decade-old posts:
(1) Many are super-dated; in fact, it is almost mind-boggling how much things have changed in such a short time. To my 20 year old nieces, ten years is an eternity. To me, it seems like yesterday...only yesterday is a whole lot different than today. Who knew?
(2) Many blog posts don't stand alone--they don't make full sense without reading previous blogs. That's good and bad. I'd prefer they stand alone--like a good trypic in art, the three paintings work as a whole yet can still stand on their own. So, as I re-work them, I am designing to be stand-alone. This effort won't solve world hunger or win a Pulitzer but it will make me feel better about my electronically-shared efforts.
(3) The older posts tend to be shorter in length and more frequent in post, as I used to write much, much more frequently. I think it's a sign of good mental health that I'm writing less.
(4) Poop stands the test of time. Lots of poop posts. For this, I am proud. In fact, all of the bodily function posts seem relevant. (Well, define relevant.)
Let's see how long it takes for this post to become dated and irrelevant....
**********************************************************************************************************
Between Netflix and YouTube, one can lose days of life without realizing it. A blessing and a curse, this approach to media has left me blurry-eyed and a pound heavier. (Hey, one has to keep up her sugar level while working to stay focused. Snacking is a must.) This week, I managed to binge watch Season One of "Game of Thrones" (gave me nightmares--ugh--don't know if I can watch any more of that show), Season 8 of "Doctor Who" and Seasons 1, 2 and 6 of "Glee." I still had time to go to work and eat but other than that, I did little else. I don't know what inspired this ridiculous way of being but I was moved to not move.
I became one with the couch and stared at the tablet, laptop and/or TV with abandon.
This binge-watching way of life has become very popular. I often hear co-workers or friends talk about their netflixing over the weekend. I thought taking cell phone photos of everything (instead of staying in there here and now) was bad enough; we've digressed to sitting on the couch for 12 hours at a time instead of walking anywhere besides to the bathroom or mail box.
The wife does not understand or embrace binge-watching. She suggests I must not have anything else to do. Oh, I do. I have things to do. Such things just have to wait.
Perhaps, from a psychological standpoint, I should contemplate what I am avoiding. But, I really don't think I'm avoiding much of anything. I had an entire Saturday to my schedule and I chose to spend it eating chocolate and watching a mind-numbing amount of electronic visual arts. (Art being a relative term.) I am fortunate to have much less work to do on the weekends--my job doesn't require all the after hours work it once used to require. On the other hand, the wife is ALWAYS working. She doesn't have time or interest in staring at a screen for hours at a time. (Those who think being a professor is a cake walk are wong. Shame on you. The lady is always doing work. Right now she's reading all sorts of dribble about peers up for tenure. I'm exhausted just thinking about her schedule.)
Thankfully, I am now over-saturated and ready to return to the land of the living. I've had suggestions of other series to watch but I can't do it right now. It will have to wait until I build my stamina.
As for cell phone cameras....when I go places, I've noticed that everyone is taking photos instead of staying in the here and now. That's why I've been trying to not take photos--instead, I've been actually LOOKING at things, living things, enjoying things. My biggest effort in the past month was at the Madonna concert. Every where I looked, cell phones were in the air, pointed toward the stage. I would say at least 75% of those in attendance spent their time watching the concert via their cell phone screens. I took a few photos at the beginning and then put my phone away.
I allowed myself to be immersed in the happening. If I can do this, anyone can do this. Trust me. I love my phone. I love having instant access to just about anything or anyone. But, living is beyond my phone. Life is out there, not in there.
This phone-beyond-a-phone thing is a permeating phenomenon. The texting-internet-camera phone thing has led to a whole new culture, a new way of being. I see this every day at work when new employees come to training. When I take a photo for the employee badge, I am corrected and told to take the photo from a bit higher perspective--meaning like how one takes a selfie. "It makes you look so much better," they tell me.
So, I take non-selfie selfies.
The photos don't look any better to me but they look a billion percent better to the employee, so I go with it. If they don't like the photo I take, I give them an option of taking a selfie and texting it to me.
We have some pretty entertaining employee badges right now.
Soon, no one will talk or even look up. If I were a chiropractor, I'd be licking my chops. They have to be seeing a profound increase in neck injuries, as everyone is always bent over looking at their phone screens.
Don't get me wrong--I just spent a week holding or staring at an electronic device every waking moment when not at work. These comments are not a judgement on anyone.
It is an observation of the world going round and round.
Sometimes, I think about how we are bombarded....zapped....flooded with beams and signals and frequencies and electronic waves. Every single moment of our lives, we are awash in particles of this and that. I wonder what we would think if we could actually see these things? Would we be terrified, mystified or awe-inspired?
Sometimes, I think my clients with mental illness are onto something. They talk about things being beamed from space into their apartments or into their very beings.... who am I to say they are wrong? It's actually rather true. When they talk about the beams coming from the satellite to their electric sockets or TV or radio, they are actually correct....maybe they can see what we cannot.
Perhaps we should applaud them rather than medicate them. Instead of asking what antipsychotic shoud be prescribed, we should be asking, "What on Earth is all this "stuff" doing to our very beings?"
Counting the niece living with us, we have two routers, at least three computers in use (sometimes, I have my work computer at home and the wife has a work computer, too--so, that's opportunity for five computers at one time), four cell phones, three tablets, and god knows how many iPods. We hook things up via blue tooth and routers. We text, we call, we email, we post.
That's a lot of zapping and beaming.
I'm glad clients can't come to my house. They'd scare the shit out of me with all the things they'd describe and see.
All this thinking has inspired me to step away from the electronics and actually go outside for a few minutes. Today, I am going to post this blog, turn off (and put away) my computer, stay away from my tablet, turn off my cell phone and not turn on the TV until football comes on.....
That's in 2 hours, 15 minutes. I know I can go that long without any electronics in my life. I may shake and groan a little bit, but I can make it.
My electronics have become unmanagable. But, they will be the powerless ones, not me.
After all, I'm turning off their power. I have the power for them to be powerless. The beams and signals will still be there will be a bit less zapping directly into my being for a few minutes.
Perhaps I can binge read books this week instead of binge-watching anything. As long as it's a real book, not an electric copy, it's all good.
Beam me down, Scotty. You can beam me up later.
Friday, October 23, 2015
Number Two of the Addiverse Rewind: Dating myself
No, no, no--I'm not dating myself. I'm dating myself.
These non-viewed posts are fun (IMHO) because they are SOOOO dated. See how much changes in a decade? Sheesh. Me still running, MySpace, low rise jeans AND
the advent of cameras on cell phones. Dated.
This weekend, you get a "new" blog. Today, you get four rewinds. Is this a great country or what?
The Addiverse is celebrating its ten year anniversary. In honor
of this blessed event, I’m posting links to early blog entries which have zero
views. From now until December, I’ll post links to old blog posts. If you are so moved, please click on posted
links as they appear. The Addiverse professes its love for you. Kiss kiss.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Ten Years of the Addiverse
The Addiverse is celebrating its ten year anniversary. In honor
of this blessed event, I’m posting links to early blog entries which have zero
views. C’mon, ZERO. I can’t let that happen. So, from now until December, I’ll post
links to old blog posts. If you are so
moved, please click on posted links as they appear. The Addiverse professes its
love for you. Kiss kiss.
Week One of the Rewind.... THE INAUGURAL BLOG
Week One of
the Rewind…."Posts with No views." So sad.
Week One of the Rewind... Key problems in the Addiverse
Week One of the Rewind... The first post about poop
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Gluten Hell
I've been writing this blog for ten years. Because it's been such a long duration, I can't remember all that I've written; so, I took a gander at my table of contents and the number of views per blog. I usually average about 40 views. Lame but great, nonetheless. I was considerably crushed to see that many blog entries, especially from the first year or two, have zero views. Zero! My poor beating heart.
I may try to resurrect some of those posts so they get at least one or two views. I may not. Only time and blogging will tell.
It's been a few weeks of trying to live "mostly" gluten free. I don't sweat the small stuff because I'm doing what I can while I learn more about the foods I should and should not eat. It's been tough. I don't know how those with Celiac's Disease do it. I have the luxury of making errors. They don't.
It's relatively expensive to eat gluten-free-vegetarian if you want to eat pre-made, packaged, oh-so-convenient foods. There are more choices than I could have imagined but you pay the price for convenience. I've quickly figured out that eating gluten-free at home is easiest if one makes an actual meal. Dang, I hate that.
I'm such the lady of convenience and chemicals.
Thank god for corn tortillas and Quorn vegetarian fake-chicken tenders.
We went to a Packer game last weekend. In addition, I was at an out-of-town-with-no-car conference the same week. Both of these endeavors were excellent "practice fields" for living gluten-free. If I weren't a vegetarian, I would have been all right at Lambeau Field; after all, many meat products are gluten free and they have gluten free buns. Being that I am a vegetarian, I had one actual "meal" option....
....a baked potato.
I didn't want a baked potato but I was REALLY hungry and didn't want to live on popcorn, so a baked potato it was. It was a $9.00 baked potato. That's a lot of money for one spud. But, like I said, I was hungry. I probably would have paid $20 for that potato.
Have you ever tried to eat a baked potato while seated in the bleachers of a football game? I'm guessing not. It is quite the endeavor. Balancing said potato on the lap while trying to cut it with a fork (they had no knives) is entertaining, to say the least. It is tenuous in nature, teetering this way and that, the little paper "boat" not providing much leverage. The hell if I was going to drop one crumb of that $9.00 potato. I think I might have eaten some of the paper underneath the potato...that's how hard it was to cut the skin with a spoon.
I think paper is gluten-free, so what the hell. What's a little fiber?
As for the conference, I was smart and planned ahead. I wasn't driving, so I knew I wouldn't have a car to go out and buy meals (I hate not having a car, but what my boss says, I do...she drove, I rode shotgun.) I made some gluten-free-overstuffed peanut butter 'n' jelly sandwiches and stuffed them into my suitcase. I had one for each of the three days, just in case.
So, the first morning of the conference, my co-worker and I go to the conference area to score our free breakfast. I love breakfast and I never pass up the chance for free food and again, as always, I'm starving. I belly up to the breakfast line and see....gasp!
GLUTEN HELL.
I don't mean a plate or two of pastries and then some other choices...I mean ALL pastries, ALL the way down the banquet table. I've never seen some many danishes, bagels, donuts, muffins and gluten-bathed products in my life. I gasped audibly gasped and then exclaimed (much more loudly than I realized),
"Oh my god, this is gluten HELL!"
A lady in line burst out laughing. I kid you not.
I thought that there had to be something other than these delicious, mouth-watering, begging-to-be consumed breakfast treats, so I kept moving in the line. There was one little, bitty plate of soggy fruit but that was it. I was on my own. I sighed and went back to my room, retrieving one of the PB & J sandwiches.
I am happy to report that I later got my very unanticipated revenge.
Banquet-style vegetarian lunches and dinners at conferences usually suck. When I say suck, I mean suck. I resigned myself to this fact long ago. Usually, they plop a plate of a sad pasta product with a blob of frozen veggie mix on the top in front of me. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, it's semi-real veggies, not a frozen mix. Every once in awhile I hit the jackpot and they serve some kind of rice or risotto product next to the sad pasta product (why so many carbs, I do not know).
The one thing these conference meals have in common: gluten. I don't think I've ever had a banquet style vegetarian meal that wouldn't qualify for placement in gluten hell, right next to those danishes. I was hoping I wouldn't have to eat another PB & J sandwich. I feared I would need to ration my rations.
Trust me when I say I just about licked the plate when eating my salad. One must eat what one can when the mystery meal has yet to unfold.
I watched with trepidation as the servers bustled through the tables. They meat eaters were served skinless chicken with some mystery gravy, potatoes and green beans. It didn't look great and as time passed I learned it wasn't very tasty. (Several people at my table only ate part of their chicken, noting that it was less than desirable.) Then, my plate arrived. The moment of truth swooped down upon me.....
I couldn't believe my eyes. Perched beautifully before me was a stuffed red pepper, roasted red potatoes and freshly prepared green beans. The pepper was stuffed with quinoa!
QUINOA!
I wanted to go to the kitchen and kiss the cook. This was by far the BEST conference vegetarian meal I have ever been served. EVER. Bonus that it was 100% gluten free. My peers looked at my plate in envy; in fact, one of the guys muttered how he should have ordered the vegetarian plate. I have NEVER heard anyone say that before.
Suffice it to say I ate every single morsel. I scooped up every last rolly polly of quinoa. The only downside to the meal was dessert: cake. I gave my cake to some stranger at our table. As I sat there, still in the glow of a post-fabulous meal, I looked across the table, only to see a very sad looking man. He must've realized I was wondering what was up, as he semi-smiled and me and muttered, "Nut allergy."
We were one in solidarity--those who must not eat the cake.
The rest of the trip required consumption of the PB & J and creativity when at restaurants. I ate a lot of....
...you guessed it....baked potatoes.
Life is full of gluten. Of this, I did not know. I salute those of you who must be gluten free. I am so very grateful that my food consumption is about preference, not demand, not of dire consequence. I recognize that going out to eat with friends when gluten free is much more difficult than finding vegetarian fare. I can eat just about anywhere as a vegetarian. But, that gluten-free life takes brain power and dedication. God love you, those surrounded by gluten hell....
I dedicate my next dozen baked potatoes to you.
*******************************************************************
I may try to resurrect some of those posts so they get at least one or two views. I may not. Only time and blogging will tell.
It's been a few weeks of trying to live "mostly" gluten free. I don't sweat the small stuff because I'm doing what I can while I learn more about the foods I should and should not eat. It's been tough. I don't know how those with Celiac's Disease do it. I have the luxury of making errors. They don't.
It's relatively expensive to eat gluten-free-vegetarian if you want to eat pre-made, packaged, oh-so-convenient foods. There are more choices than I could have imagined but you pay the price for convenience. I've quickly figured out that eating gluten-free at home is easiest if one makes an actual meal. Dang, I hate that.
I'm such the lady of convenience and chemicals.
Thank god for corn tortillas and Quorn vegetarian fake-chicken tenders.
We went to a Packer game last weekend. In addition, I was at an out-of-town-with-no-car conference the same week. Both of these endeavors were excellent "practice fields" for living gluten-free. If I weren't a vegetarian, I would have been all right at Lambeau Field; after all, many meat products are gluten free and they have gluten free buns. Being that I am a vegetarian, I had one actual "meal" option....
....a baked potato.
I didn't want a baked potato but I was REALLY hungry and didn't want to live on popcorn, so a baked potato it was. It was a $9.00 baked potato. That's a lot of money for one spud. But, like I said, I was hungry. I probably would have paid $20 for that potato.
Have you ever tried to eat a baked potato while seated in the bleachers of a football game? I'm guessing not. It is quite the endeavor. Balancing said potato on the lap while trying to cut it with a fork (they had no knives) is entertaining, to say the least. It is tenuous in nature, teetering this way and that, the little paper "boat" not providing much leverage. The hell if I was going to drop one crumb of that $9.00 potato. I think I might have eaten some of the paper underneath the potato...that's how hard it was to cut the skin with a spoon.
I think paper is gluten-free, so what the hell. What's a little fiber?
As for the conference, I was smart and planned ahead. I wasn't driving, so I knew I wouldn't have a car to go out and buy meals (I hate not having a car, but what my boss says, I do...she drove, I rode shotgun.) I made some gluten-free-overstuffed peanut butter 'n' jelly sandwiches and stuffed them into my suitcase. I had one for each of the three days, just in case.
So, the first morning of the conference, my co-worker and I go to the conference area to score our free breakfast. I love breakfast and I never pass up the chance for free food and again, as always, I'm starving. I belly up to the breakfast line and see....gasp!
GLUTEN HELL.
I don't mean a plate or two of pastries and then some other choices...I mean ALL pastries, ALL the way down the banquet table. I've never seen some many danishes, bagels, donuts, muffins and gluten-bathed products in my life. I gasped audibly gasped and then exclaimed (much more loudly than I realized),
"Oh my god, this is gluten HELL!"
A lady in line burst out laughing. I kid you not.
I thought that there had to be something other than these delicious, mouth-watering, begging-to-be consumed breakfast treats, so I kept moving in the line. There was one little, bitty plate of soggy fruit but that was it. I was on my own. I sighed and went back to my room, retrieving one of the PB & J sandwiches.
I am happy to report that I later got my very unanticipated revenge.
Banquet-style vegetarian lunches and dinners at conferences usually suck. When I say suck, I mean suck. I resigned myself to this fact long ago. Usually, they plop a plate of a sad pasta product with a blob of frozen veggie mix on the top in front of me. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, it's semi-real veggies, not a frozen mix. Every once in awhile I hit the jackpot and they serve some kind of rice or risotto product next to the sad pasta product (why so many carbs, I do not know).
The one thing these conference meals have in common: gluten. I don't think I've ever had a banquet style vegetarian meal that wouldn't qualify for placement in gluten hell, right next to those danishes. I was hoping I wouldn't have to eat another PB & J sandwich. I feared I would need to ration my rations.
Trust me when I say I just about licked the plate when eating my salad. One must eat what one can when the mystery meal has yet to unfold.
I watched with trepidation as the servers bustled through the tables. They meat eaters were served skinless chicken with some mystery gravy, potatoes and green beans. It didn't look great and as time passed I learned it wasn't very tasty. (Several people at my table only ate part of their chicken, noting that it was less than desirable.) Then, my plate arrived. The moment of truth swooped down upon me.....
I couldn't believe my eyes. Perched beautifully before me was a stuffed red pepper, roasted red potatoes and freshly prepared green beans. The pepper was stuffed with quinoa!
QUINOA!
I wanted to go to the kitchen and kiss the cook. This was by far the BEST conference vegetarian meal I have ever been served. EVER. Bonus that it was 100% gluten free. My peers looked at my plate in envy; in fact, one of the guys muttered how he should have ordered the vegetarian plate. I have NEVER heard anyone say that before.
Suffice it to say I ate every single morsel. I scooped up every last rolly polly of quinoa. The only downside to the meal was dessert: cake. I gave my cake to some stranger at our table. As I sat there, still in the glow of a post-fabulous meal, I looked across the table, only to see a very sad looking man. He must've realized I was wondering what was up, as he semi-smiled and me and muttered, "Nut allergy."
We were one in solidarity--those who must not eat the cake.
The rest of the trip required consumption of the PB & J and creativity when at restaurants. I ate a lot of....
...you guessed it....baked potatoes.
Life is full of gluten. Of this, I did not know. I salute those of you who must be gluten free. I am so very grateful that my food consumption is about preference, not demand, not of dire consequence. I recognize that going out to eat with friends when gluten free is much more difficult than finding vegetarian fare. I can eat just about anywhere as a vegetarian. But, that gluten-free life takes brain power and dedication. God love you, those surrounded by gluten hell....
I dedicate my next dozen baked potatoes to you.
*******************************************************************
Saturday, October 03, 2015
Oh my achin' glutes....
Glute....n free, that is. My butt is fine, thank you.
I saw a new doctor last week. I thought it was time to give my goiter a chance to save itself and so I sought an expert. Oh, I have an endocrinologist and that's about as specialized as you can get for a goiter. But, such a doctor looks at numbers and bases decisions on numbers. Not overall wellness. Not options. Not diet or nutrition. For intensive purposes, it's numbers and meds and biopsies and surgery.
I've put off starting medication since my Hashimoto's diagnosis in 2001. I figure as long as nothing was blowing up and I was able to function, why start medication? My primary care guy was following the numbers and the data, so I felt confident in leaving well enough alone.
Over the years, I have been told--on more than one occasion and by more than a few people--about a doctor in the area who specializes in thyroid issues. I've toyed with the idea of seeing him but never made an appointment. I don't know exactly why I finally decided to take a road trip to see him. Maybe it was because a coworker started seeing him and got rave results. Maybe it's because my endocrinologist starting talking about medication. Maybe it was the nodule on my thyroid. Maybe I just finally wised up. No matter. I made the appointment, printed out my data and jumped on in.
This guy is hilarious. I loved everything about him. He is everything I want in a doctor. Dang, I wasted all those years!
Suffice it to say he confirmed my diagnosis, fondled my goiter and came up with a game plan. He educated me on this and that, explained the how's and why's of his approach. He gave me some selenium and iodine pills, complete with detailed instructions. Ol' Doc Goiter offered me the chance to take a medication of which would need to be made at a compound pharmacy. He drew little pictures to explain the endocrine system. Doc Goiter assured me that if his suggestions didn't work, we could go the old fashioned route with some natural thyroid meds. At one point, he mentioned he thought we could reverse issues with the goiter--I had a hard time wrapping my brain around that. He said things of which I expected but he added something that I NEVER anticipated...
...specifically, I need to be gluten free.
Um, what? I have to do what?
Doc Goiter: "You need to be gluten-free or this won't work." [He stopped drawing and looked directly into my gluten-filled eyeballs, then reiterated the point.]
Me: [Look of horror on my face.]
Doc Goiter [in a most reassuring tone]: "Hey, it's not that hard--you can eat all the meat you want."
Me: "Um....I'm a vegetarian."
Doc Goiter: "Oh, that's gonna be hard."
Not one wee bit deterred, Doc Goiter turned to his computer and started a frantic google search. Within seconds, he was showing me websites featuring gluten-free vegan and vegetarian recipes and foods. He was not deterred--he was motivated. I looked down at my bottles of selenium and iodine...and, then asked the question of which I most feared.....
Me: Is chocolate gluten-free?
Moment of truth. This is where everything hinges.
Doc Goiter: "Yes! Most chocolate is gluten free. Just read the label."
Me: [Giant sigh of relief. I think I might have shed a tear.] "Well, then I can do this.
Doc Goiter: [with conviction] "You MUST eat gluten-free."
Me: [thinking to self--What about ice cream and cereal? I can't live without ice cream and serial] [meekly] "Okay."
Doc Goiter: "Well, you can have cheat days."
I decide right then and there that cheat days will be saved for days I go to someone's house for dinner or on trips with friends. We have amazing friends who already are super-conscious of my vegetarianism. I'm not going to ask them to think about gluten-free vegetarianism. I am not gluten intolerant, like someone who has Celiac's Disease. I can eat gluten--I'm gluten sensitive and it's best I avoid it. A home-made pizza or freshly made sandwich on gluten-tainted bread is a small price to pay for the thoughtfulness of my friends and family. I will not say no to their generosity, thoughtfulness and hospitality.
They not need be the wiser. Don't ask, don't tell. Bring on the gluten, friends. I honor you.
This whole gluten thing has given me pause. Huh. Yes, I know that Hashimoto's is an autoimmune issue. But, I never, ever considered that gluten might play a part in an autoimmune disease. Heck, I don't even know what gluten is or isn't. No medical doctor ever talked about diet (well, besides eating more table salt with iodine) as being a potential harm or help to my thyroid. No medical doctor suggested that gluten might be an issue in the health of my goiterous gland. Big points for this guy. I decide right then and there to go gluten-free to the best of my ability.
(That's why they invented Pinterest: so I can find gluten-free recipes and information. I'm ready!)
During the drive home, I get word that my niece has been diagnosed with Celiac's Disease...which means she will be living in a gluten-free world....which also means she has an autoimmune disease. Interesting. Sad for her but excited for me (gluten-free partner in crime!), I contemplate our Christmas dinner this year.
This whole food thing prompted me to do some Googling of my own, mostly because I have no idea what gluten-free food is or isn't. I learn all sorts of tidbits, including how Hashimotos and Celiac stuff seems quite related in an autoimmune kind of way. Sisters in no-gluten, here we come.Armed with knowledge, I hopped in the car and headed to the grocery store of which I know has two aisles of gluten-free products....
Oh my, there's gluten-free everything!
I'm happy to report that many of my favorite cereals are (and have been) gluten free. All the chocolate I have been shoveling in my face is good to go. Ice cream remains on my list of things to eat (hey, I'm a vegetarian, not a vegan--I can't live without ice cream--ice cream is the main reason I don't even try to be a vegan--well, that and my Doc Martin shoes). The blue chips I already eat are gluten free. The only food choices I really have to face are (1) bread products; and, (2) all those frozen veggie patties I eat. The bread, I can deal with. Dang, those veggie patties of various flavors all have gluten. I have a freezer full of gluten-ous veggie patties with nowhere to go. I need the modern convenience afforded by these chemically laden patties....
I am happy to report that gluten-free veggie patties do exist. All is well in the world.
Today, I start my iodine and next Saturday, I'll start my experiment with low dose natroxlone (or however you spell it). That's the bonus round. I don't have to try this but I'm going to--I've got nothing to lose except for thyroid issues. I'll be eating gluten-free whenever possible and sharing food ideas with my niece. I'll tell her when I find something really tasty or really NOT tasty. We will serve a gluten-free Christmas meal. (Note to family: Good or bad, not much will change with our traditional meal...we'll add some gluten-free bread and some gluten-free dessert products. Our meal is already relatively gluten-free. Who knew? We're trend-setters.)
As for the veggie burgers, I'm going to hand them out to trick or treaters. I'm not sure if that's a trick or a treat but I am sure that'll get the house egged.
Eggs are gluten-free, so we're ready.
*************************************************************************
I saw a new doctor last week. I thought it was time to give my goiter a chance to save itself and so I sought an expert. Oh, I have an endocrinologist and that's about as specialized as you can get for a goiter. But, such a doctor looks at numbers and bases decisions on numbers. Not overall wellness. Not options. Not diet or nutrition. For intensive purposes, it's numbers and meds and biopsies and surgery.
I've put off starting medication since my Hashimoto's diagnosis in 2001. I figure as long as nothing was blowing up and I was able to function, why start medication? My primary care guy was following the numbers and the data, so I felt confident in leaving well enough alone.
Over the years, I have been told--on more than one occasion and by more than a few people--about a doctor in the area who specializes in thyroid issues. I've toyed with the idea of seeing him but never made an appointment. I don't know exactly why I finally decided to take a road trip to see him. Maybe it was because a coworker started seeing him and got rave results. Maybe it's because my endocrinologist starting talking about medication. Maybe it was the nodule on my thyroid. Maybe I just finally wised up. No matter. I made the appointment, printed out my data and jumped on in.
This guy is hilarious. I loved everything about him. He is everything I want in a doctor. Dang, I wasted all those years!
Suffice it to say he confirmed my diagnosis, fondled my goiter and came up with a game plan. He educated me on this and that, explained the how's and why's of his approach. He gave me some selenium and iodine pills, complete with detailed instructions. Ol' Doc Goiter offered me the chance to take a medication of which would need to be made at a compound pharmacy. He drew little pictures to explain the endocrine system. Doc Goiter assured me that if his suggestions didn't work, we could go the old fashioned route with some natural thyroid meds. At one point, he mentioned he thought we could reverse issues with the goiter--I had a hard time wrapping my brain around that. He said things of which I expected but he added something that I NEVER anticipated...
...specifically, I need to be gluten free.
Um, what? I have to do what?
Doc Goiter: "You need to be gluten-free or this won't work." [He stopped drawing and looked directly into my gluten-filled eyeballs, then reiterated the point.]
Me: [Look of horror on my face.]
Doc Goiter [in a most reassuring tone]: "Hey, it's not that hard--you can eat all the meat you want."
Me: "Um....I'm a vegetarian."
Doc Goiter: "Oh, that's gonna be hard."
Not one wee bit deterred, Doc Goiter turned to his computer and started a frantic google search. Within seconds, he was showing me websites featuring gluten-free vegan and vegetarian recipes and foods. He was not deterred--he was motivated. I looked down at my bottles of selenium and iodine...and, then asked the question of which I most feared.....
Me: Is chocolate gluten-free?
Moment of truth. This is where everything hinges.
Doc Goiter: "Yes! Most chocolate is gluten free. Just read the label."
Me: [Giant sigh of relief. I think I might have shed a tear.] "Well, then I can do this.
Doc Goiter: [with conviction] "You MUST eat gluten-free."
Me: [thinking to self--What about ice cream and cereal? I can't live without ice cream and serial] [meekly] "Okay."
Doc Goiter: "Well, you can have cheat days."
I decide right then and there that cheat days will be saved for days I go to someone's house for dinner or on trips with friends. We have amazing friends who already are super-conscious of my vegetarianism. I'm not going to ask them to think about gluten-free vegetarianism. I am not gluten intolerant, like someone who has Celiac's Disease. I can eat gluten--I'm gluten sensitive and it's best I avoid it. A home-made pizza or freshly made sandwich on gluten-tainted bread is a small price to pay for the thoughtfulness of my friends and family. I will not say no to their generosity, thoughtfulness and hospitality.
They not need be the wiser. Don't ask, don't tell. Bring on the gluten, friends. I honor you.
This whole gluten thing has given me pause. Huh. Yes, I know that Hashimoto's is an autoimmune issue. But, I never, ever considered that gluten might play a part in an autoimmune disease. Heck, I don't even know what gluten is or isn't. No medical doctor ever talked about diet (well, besides eating more table salt with iodine) as being a potential harm or help to my thyroid. No medical doctor suggested that gluten might be an issue in the health of my goiterous gland. Big points for this guy. I decide right then and there to go gluten-free to the best of my ability.
(That's why they invented Pinterest: so I can find gluten-free recipes and information. I'm ready!)
During the drive home, I get word that my niece has been diagnosed with Celiac's Disease...which means she will be living in a gluten-free world....which also means she has an autoimmune disease. Interesting. Sad for her but excited for me (gluten-free partner in crime!), I contemplate our Christmas dinner this year.
This whole food thing prompted me to do some Googling of my own, mostly because I have no idea what gluten-free food is or isn't. I learn all sorts of tidbits, including how Hashimotos and Celiac stuff seems quite related in an autoimmune kind of way. Sisters in no-gluten, here we come.Armed with knowledge, I hopped in the car and headed to the grocery store of which I know has two aisles of gluten-free products....
Oh my, there's gluten-free everything!
I'm happy to report that many of my favorite cereals are (and have been) gluten free. All the chocolate I have been shoveling in my face is good to go. Ice cream remains on my list of things to eat (hey, I'm a vegetarian, not a vegan--I can't live without ice cream--ice cream is the main reason I don't even try to be a vegan--well, that and my Doc Martin shoes). The blue chips I already eat are gluten free. The only food choices I really have to face are (1) bread products; and, (2) all those frozen veggie patties I eat. The bread, I can deal with. Dang, those veggie patties of various flavors all have gluten. I have a freezer full of gluten-ous veggie patties with nowhere to go. I need the modern convenience afforded by these chemically laden patties....
I am happy to report that gluten-free veggie patties do exist. All is well in the world.
Today, I start my iodine and next Saturday, I'll start my experiment with low dose natroxlone (or however you spell it). That's the bonus round. I don't have to try this but I'm going to--I've got nothing to lose except for thyroid issues. I'll be eating gluten-free whenever possible and sharing food ideas with my niece. I'll tell her when I find something really tasty or really NOT tasty. We will serve a gluten-free Christmas meal. (Note to family: Good or bad, not much will change with our traditional meal...we'll add some gluten-free bread and some gluten-free dessert products. Our meal is already relatively gluten-free. Who knew? We're trend-setters.)
As for the veggie burgers, I'm going to hand them out to trick or treaters. I'm not sure if that's a trick or a treat but I am sure that'll get the house egged.
Eggs are gluten-free, so we're ready.
*************************************************************************
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
An Iconic Rebel Heart
MJagger and I have been waiting--impatiently--for months for this blessed event, so we were mighty excited when yesterday finally arrived.
Prior to leaving for the event, I was sitting with my niece at the kitchen table, me giddy with delight. In one sentence, she summed it up for her generation: "Young people don't know Madonna's music." Despite knowing this to be true, I had to do some deep breathing to remain conscious and in the chair.
Now, I know many of you don't give a rat's ass about Madonna, but please indulge me with the opportunity to spew adoration via a humble blog. If it helps, imagine me looking like a giggling teenage girl. It was a great concert and I have to talk to someone. There is only so much Madonna talk the wife can handle and the dog is deaf, so you're it.
I LOVED this concert. Madonna outdid herself. How?
By being happy.
That says a lot. In concerts, she's a machine, perfection in choreography, a spectacle, flaunting incredible physical prowess and duration....but, during the past few tours, she didn't seem happy. She was amazing, her show was indescribable, but she didn't glow with happiness.
This time, she oozed with glee. She genuinely looked happy to be on stage, to be performing, to be live with 20,000 of her closest friends (three fourths of which is comprised of adobrable, uber-pumped, super-sassy gay men). She engaged the crowd more than I've seen in decades, seemingly enjoying the audience connection.
During the past few tours, she gave an slight air that she didn't really give a shit about the audience--we were her minions and she was there to entertain, not embrace. She gave us perfection but not glee or authenticity or humanity. No offense, Madonna. I love your perfection. I was okay with being a minion. The concerts were great, ambitious, awe-inspiring. I go for the show, not to be loved. I get it. But, seriously--we were minions...
Last night, she was OUR minion.
She openly, unabashedly, gladly exclaimed aloud--and showed us--that she PERFORMS and WORKS for US. Madonna sang "True Blue," a song she has never performed in concert (well, not that I remember), dedicating it us, her devoted fans, her "spouse." That says a lot. She dedicated--blessed--us with recognition that we are true blue and she is true blue to us.
It doesn't get any better than that.
An unbelieveable surprise: her singing was much, much, much improved. I don't know how to say it other than to say she sounded great and was lip synching much less--in fact, very little at all. Go figure.
Maybe it's easier to stay on pitch when one is happy.
The Madonna tours of old have been grand shows--happenings--not singing events. You don't go to a Madonna concert to hear her sing. You go for the gesalt. If you wanted to hear her sing, you listened to the studio-perfected CD.....
She proved us wrong last night. She proved us very, very wrong. MJagger and I were downright stunned. Her singing was right on pitch, the whole night through. She sounded like a singer.
The concert was delicious. I mean, how can a show not be incredible when the star surfs a nun who is hanging parallel on a pole? Interestingly to me, she sang a lot of "old" hits. Usually, she sticks to the newest stuff and tosses out a handful of previous hits. She put new spins on the oldies, which made them fresh and relevant. With each song, she proved that she really was working for the crowd, not for herself, not for perfection.
My only regret? That I didn't buy the expensive seats. I've spent obscene amounts of money on Madonna concerts. This time, I thought it'd be okay to be further away from the stage, allowing us an overview of the entire happening. Damn, was I wrong. She spent the majority of the time at the end of/on the cat walk, so near to her admirers that it was ridiculous. We could have counted her eyebrow hairs. I think MJagger wanted to punch me in the face for my decision. I regret it with all my true blue heart.
Her latest album, Rebel Heart, has zero hits on the radio. Zero. She doesn't make the top ten any more, depsite having number one albums every time she releases a new album. Some of that is precipated by the fact you can't play a song that's chorus is, "Bitch, I'm Madonna" or feature the "F word" as part of the lyrics on today's pop hit stations. It's also because her fans aren't top ten today's pop radio station listeners. Her fans are more likely to be dancing in a gay bar than listening to the radio.
If you ask me, that's okay.
In fact, that's more than okay. Young people have yet to realize they should respect their elders. We'll keep Madonna. You keep Miley. (I hope Miley gives props to Madonna, as without Madge, Miley would not be flying around naked on a wrecking ball. Just sayin.')
Madonna remains very relevant. Youngsters may not know her, youngsters most likely make fun of her. But, those young pups need to recognize that Madoona is the reason today's performers can do what they do. She is the reason music has evolved, that concerts have stepped up their producton. Like her or not, she paid her dues, put herself out there to be hated, judged, taunted...she deserves our musical respect. Madonna is the reason that women like me--of a middle age--can act however we want and have a good time. Who has time to get old when there is Madonna to prove us wrong? Dear god, one can only hope to have that much stamina at age 57. It's not all about the boys. She made it possible for the ladies to be front and center.
So thank you, Mother Madge. Thank you for speaking in a "normal" Midwestern voice, not some British-tinged accent. Thank you for being true blue to your fans. Thank you for singing to us, for embracing us, for working for us.
Your little rebel heart is iconic.
*****************************************************************************
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Hap-pap-pap-a-ning
How can a blog about girl parts and the gynecologist NOT be worth the wait? I put off writing the blog until post-pap. I didn't want you to miss a thing. I went to the gynecologist today, so I am fresh and pretty and ready to blog.
Now, I know you've read the story about the lady who had glitter on her lady parts when she went to the gynecologist. There is no glitter involved in this tale, so no worries. You've almost certainly read the post about the lady whose self-waxing job goes horribly, horribly wrong. No waxing was involved in this story, either. (If you haven't read either of these stories, you need to find them on the web. You'll enjoy a loud guffaw, I assure you.) While I don't need wax or glitter, I do need extended use a razor blade--after all, everything you own is in perfect view when you are at the gynecologist. Miss a hair on your ankle? BAM! It's there to see. Haven't shaved the top 1/2 of your legs in a few years? BAM! The nurse can see that stuff from across the room. One does not want to go to the gynecologist with stray armpit hair or a dirty belly button....
As it was time for my kinda-sorta-maybe-not-annual annual pap and exam, I scheduled an appointment. I'm all good with getting a quick check under the hood to make sure all is firing as is appropriate. I decided to go to a friend's doctor, as mine fell off the face of the earth (I'm not kidding--there is no record of him anywhere--I've googled him to the point it is stalking). I've seen this new doctor's "work," as I viewed a DVD of the hysterectomy he performed on my friend. (THAT'S something you don't get to view every day). It was an easy enough decision. The appointment was set. All I had to do was groom and wait. Or, wait and groom, I suppose.
Side note: I am bitter than I'm 53 years old and still get my period EVERY. SINGLE. MONTH.
Side side note: I could be my own child's grandmother at this rate.
Later in the week, while seated at the kitchen table eating lunch, I have this terrifying thought: I could not remember if I removed my "last" tampon from this month's visitation. I experience a rush of thoughts and emotions. How could I not know this? Why would I not have removed it? What if it's still in there? Of course, I cannot for the life of me recall anything about this "event" or "non-event."
There is only one thing I can do: look.
I can't say I have ever really done this kind of "search and rescue" mission and I wasn't sure how to approach this predicament. I'd never really looked before. I mean REALLY looked. Why look? What could possibly be so exciting down there that would require a lengthy gander? I plodded up the stairs, grabbed the wife's "I-need-this-to-pluck-chin-hairs" magnifying mirror, dropped my drawers and popped a squat.I'm not sure if it was the magnification or the lighting or the angle, but let me tell you, I was stunned by what was going on down there. I daresay I let out a gasp.
Now, since I don't know what it looked like down there before this blessed event, I don't know if things look the same or different. All I know is things don't look like I thought they would look. I found myself wondering WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?
I will spare you the details. Let's just say that I wasn't sure if "this view" was an age thing, a normal thing, an oh-my-god thing, a "something to be proud of" thing.
Side note: My words of wisdom to you are: GO LOOK AT YOURSELF. This was a big thing to do back in the 1970's but I haven't heard anyone talking about this for decades. Well, I'm here to revive this activity. After reading this blog, grab a mirror and take a really close look at what is going on down there. (Well, I suppose this won't be the same for men...but, they have stuff they can look at, too.) By taking a gander now, you'll know if things change. Because I had not looked, I did not know if the view was representative of my entire adult life or the last five five hours or since I sneezed last week.
I totally forgot about the tampon.
Today was the day. Fresh and pretty, I met the new doctor. I'm pleased to report that he spent much time talking to me before I had to show off all my newly shaved parts. That's always a good way to do business, if you ask me--clothes on while talking. I described my concern--tampon, yadda yadda, look in mirror, yadda yadda, is that supposed to look like that????? Being a gentle, kind soul, he described what he was doing and seeing. In detail. Seriously--I really didn't need to hear all that commentary, but it was nice for him to try. At least he kept things moving while he was talking. In an effort to keep conversation going, I managed to say stupid things--like, how I viewed the DVD of him doing a hysterectomy. I'm not sure what's weirder--that I said that or that I watched the video.
Um, yeah--that view down there? It's exactly what it's supposed to look like...or, so the doctor said. I guess I should believe him; after all, I'm sure he's seen a lot of interesting things over the many years he's been in practice and I haven't even seen myself. The doctor added that most people don't look and thus they don't know what things really do or should look like. Points for trying to normalize my weirdness and ignorance. He won bigger points for not laughing. I give the nurse the biggest kudos because she had to hear me ask my questions twice and not laugh. I'm sure she'll have a great story for when she goes out with her friends after work. She smiled and nodded through the entire ordeal. Geez.
He was unable to say much about my bionic ovaries. When it's time, it will be time. Until then, I shall continue my march toward menopause, month by month by month. Sigh.
For the record, he did not find a tampon.
So, your homework is to go look at yourself. I'm not kidding. Do it in honor of the Addiverse. Do it in honor of the women of the world. Do it in honor of yourself. Do it in honor of lost tampons around the world.
.....Just don't use one of those magnifying mirrors lest you burn that image into your retinas.
*************************************************************
Monday, September 14, 2015
Chinny Chin Chin
In an attempt to keep myself entertained, behaved and distracted, I embarked on an Addiverse experiment last week. I couldn't write about it until I had scientific data to share....
For some unknown reason, I decided to grow "out" my chin hair and see just how many chinny chin chin hairs were hanging out on my chinny chin chin.
I had no way of knowing how many locks of beauty were hanging out on my chin without this experiment, as I usually pluck 'em as I find 'em. I figured it would take a week. If I can go a month in winter without shaving my legs, I can go a week without plucking a chin hair.
I am here to tell you that I have TEN chin hairs, all of which happen to be hanging out in one location: the left side of my lower chin. (For the record: I tried to take a photo of the chin hairs but it was not meant to be. Every photo I took was blurry and did not show the hairs. I did not have time to find my "real" camera, so you'll have to use your imagination.)
It's nice of my chinny chin chin hair to congregate in one location. Not only does that keep things neat and tidy, it will help my caregiver when I'm 90 and need my chin hairs plucked. They'll be easier to find.
Interestingly to me, they are hard to see from a distance. I thought they'd be screaming and waving and scaring small children by the time they got to this "point" of the experiment. Oh sure, if you are within a foot of my face (why you would be there, I do not know) and the lighting is good, you would be able to see these tree trunks. If you brushed up against my face (again, I know not why you'd be in a position to do so, but let's go with it for scientific research purposes), you'd think I was George Michael. (Okay, your eyes are closed and you're delirious and you think you're in a park in England, THEN you'd think it was George Michael.)
I do not understand chin hairs nor do I anticipate thinking about them much more after I rip those puppies out of their holding place. They do not serve a purpose besides to mark the ticking of time.
I assume that as I age I will grow more chin hairs; after all, these didn't exactly show up for several decades. For now, I will celebrate the perfect ten.
The hardest part of this week long experiment was trying not to "play" with the "stubble." If you have ever had a chin hair, you know what I mean. It's like the thing calls to you..."I'm over here! Let me make you insane. Bwaa haa haa!" When you find said hair, nary a pair of tweezers can be found. You are left to your own devices until those tweezer surface.
Now, I know there are some women who have to shave a full beard, so I'm not complaining about ten chin hairs. God love those women. This blog has nothing to do with that. And, don't you ever make fun of women who must shave because I know some of these women and I know that they are NOT happy about this need-to-shave thing because we as a species are very judgmental about that. So, be nice. It would suck to have a women beard.
The experiment is over. I deem it a complete success. I'm going to pass the findings to Eldest Niece, as I've informed her she will be in charge of my chin hairs once I'm in a nursing home and can no longer tend to my ten.
Let the tweezing begin!
Friday, September 04, 2015
Twins of the OCPD
Happy Labor Day Weekend, party people of the Addiverse! May you be labor free this fine holiday weekend. (Unless you are awaiting the birth of a child and you are bitter because you have yet to go into labor. You should labor.)
Good news: Doctor Who returns September 19th--Season Nine is approaching quicker than the TARDIS zipping to a different dimension. I can barely contain myself. The return is even sweeter knowing that River Song will return for a special appearance this season. Be still, my beating time lord hearts! I know the majority of you don't care about any of this, but I'm just smitten with the whole Who thing. Last season was way too short. Damn those British writers who only wrote 12 episodes in Season Eight. (I hear Season Ten might be shorter or even delayed, what with "Sherlock" in production. Ugh!)
On the homefront, we've made an addition to our family. No, no--not a puppy. Dear god, shame on you for even thinking that. No, we've added a person. A temporary guest has been welcomed into our humble, organized abode. Eldest niece is staying with us while she student teaches in the Cheddarlands.
I was a wee bit concerned that the wife, queen of obsessive compulsive personality disorder, might not fare too well during this endeavor....after all, we've never had anyone live with us or even stay with us for any duration of time...
Turns out I was worrying about the wrong person.
See, the wife and niece are getting along quite handsomely. They are two peas in an OCD pod. They are organizing and cleaning and dusting and bonding like there's no tomorrow. They talk about school and teaching and testing and what not. They speak of math and licensure and keeping things in their time and place. The bathroom has never been cleaner. They are just basking in each other's organized glow.
I live in terror.
Although she'd totally deny it, the wife is giving me the stink eye more than usual. I can tell I am not living up to the OCPD standards of these evil twins. Try as I might, I cannot live without leaving at least some kind of "trail." It's just my way of being. The niece doesn't leave a trail or a mess or any signs of life.
I live in OCD stereo...or, perhaps OCPD hell, where everything has a time and place and reason.
The bar has been raised just that much higher because the niece is performing beyond measure.
I'd write more but I have to go clean up after myself. I see a glass on the counter and my watch on the table. My work bag is on the floor near the door.....
...Come December, I'll remember the terror in which I swim. See if she gets a Christmas present this year.
***********************************************************
Good news: Doctor Who returns September 19th--Season Nine is approaching quicker than the TARDIS zipping to a different dimension. I can barely contain myself. The return is even sweeter knowing that River Song will return for a special appearance this season. Be still, my beating time lord hearts! I know the majority of you don't care about any of this, but I'm just smitten with the whole Who thing. Last season was way too short. Damn those British writers who only wrote 12 episodes in Season Eight. (I hear Season Ten might be shorter or even delayed, what with "Sherlock" in production. Ugh!)
On the homefront, we've made an addition to our family. No, no--not a puppy. Dear god, shame on you for even thinking that. No, we've added a person. A temporary guest has been welcomed into our humble, organized abode. Eldest niece is staying with us while she student teaches in the Cheddarlands.
I was a wee bit concerned that the wife, queen of obsessive compulsive personality disorder, might not fare too well during this endeavor....after all, we've never had anyone live with us or even stay with us for any duration of time...
Turns out I was worrying about the wrong person.
See, the wife and niece are getting along quite handsomely. They are two peas in an OCD pod. They are organizing and cleaning and dusting and bonding like there's no tomorrow. They talk about school and teaching and testing and what not. They speak of math and licensure and keeping things in their time and place. The bathroom has never been cleaner. They are just basking in each other's organized glow.
I live in terror.
Although she'd totally deny it, the wife is giving me the stink eye more than usual. I can tell I am not living up to the OCPD standards of these evil twins. Try as I might, I cannot live without leaving at least some kind of "trail." It's just my way of being. The niece doesn't leave a trail or a mess or any signs of life.
I live in OCD stereo...or, perhaps OCPD hell, where everything has a time and place and reason.
The bar has been raised just that much higher because the niece is performing beyond measure.
I'd write more but I have to go clean up after myself. I see a glass on the counter and my watch on the table. My work bag is on the floor near the door.....
...Come December, I'll remember the terror in which I swim. See if she gets a Christmas present this year.
***********************************************************
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