My New Collection

Another good thing that has happened is that during the tragedy of hurricane Sandy, we did not lose power and sustained very little damage to our home.  Everyone is safe.

I didn't expect that because I have been expecting the worse for a while now.  Maybe because that's all I've been getting.  But I've been thinking about it and I've decided I need to start a new collection of things:

GOOD things.

So I'm starting my new collection now.  The first good thing was seeing my niece's photos on facebook and the second good thing is that we survived hurricane Sandy relatively unscathed.

My heart goes out to all of those who were not as fortunate.  Wishing you Godspeed.

One Good Thing

I haven't been on facebook in a while but today I logged on and somehow clicked on the beautiful face of my niece.  For some reason I felt like I wanted to see more of her.  I guess she just makes me happy.  She is infectious anyway and no one can be sad around her. . . I think I may ask her to move in soon!  Teach me a thing or two about life.  Anyway, I started clicking on one picture, two, seven, fiftyfive . . .

There she is with long hair, with braids, with a shaved head, pouty, dressy, tired, showing off her tats and that booty!  There was graduation, endless parties, fun at the beach, fun with friends.  Endless friends.

It's hard to explain the simple joy I felt at clicking back through the phases of her life (not to mention her hairstyles) to see that she had one.  HAS one.  My niece had and continues to have a richness to her life that reminds me of a painting I once knew how to make.  A balance.  A fullness.  Her photos are a testament to a woman with confidence because she knows she will be ok.  That her mom is fine.  And her Dad.  She is free from that responsibility.  Free.

My sister somehow flipped it out.  She did it.  She turned things around, she succeeded as a mother, as an adult, as a woman.  I am so proud of her.  I used to have a similar vision for myself and my children.  I didn't know what it would be: photos of Coleman playing hockey, Coleman and his friends playing chess, Coleman laughing as a girl puts ice down his back, Coleman at the beach as confident and free and happy and bursting with life.  Free.  

Maybe that's why I like movies and books so much.  You can dwell there for moments in time and your own life is suspended and you can feel hope spring eternal for all of the things that won't ever really be in your own life.  But while I clicked through those pictures I felt my life suspended.  I felt my niece's joy.  I felt her vibrant, beautiful, pulsating life in my chest and I felt so proud and grateful that she exists as proof of all of the things I've stopped believing in.

I don't know what I would do without that.

Who Am I Now?

I wrote my sisters a seething, negative, angry email last week.  Have you ever been filled with so much ugliness and anger inside that you feel like you have to squeeze a little bit out on everyone you see just to get some relief from the pressure of it?  The email I wrote wasn't to say that I was angry at THEM.  It was to say how angry I am period.

I wanted to wipe it on someone else.  I wanted to spray it out; pour it onto their heads.  Here is what I'm feeling and its not fair!  So I want to share some of it with you!  Take that--and that--and that!!!!

In a way I am horrified at myself but I can't deny that it did offer some slight release inside me.  Oh, how I loathe those people who seem to have a dark cloud over them.  Every time you talk to them its always something.  This one died, that one lost their job, this one was just diagnosed with cancer, that one tried to kill himself.

Whooooweeee, I tried to dodge those people like crazy when I was younger.  I was almost afraid that some of it would rub off on me, stain my clothes, get me dirty.  And somehow I have become one of those people.  I mean What the Fuck?  I'd call it poetic justice if there was any basis for my deserving it so I'll just have to name it IRONIC AS HELL!

There are people in my life who mean a great deal to me.  Certainly my sisters, my aunts, my mother and father. . . but I can't reach them because I am straight jacketed right now.  My wiring is off and sparking.  I'm pissed and sad and suffer the chronic pain all pathetic, overly depressed, overly anxious people suffer with and I'm empty for the ones I love.

I have always been a positive person, full of strength and optimism and resiliency.  But who am I now?

The One Year Plan

So I've been thinking.  The past 3 or 4 years have been a really shitty time for me and for my family.  Here are the areas that have made it so:

1. Issues with meds etc. for oldest son with Asperger's, ADD, Depression, Mood Disorder
2. Mother-in-Law with Dementia who lives in the basement 
3. Finances
4. Consistent weight gain with no end in sight for me
5. ITP, body aches from Isotetrinoin, Peri-menopause (also me)
6. Depression, Unemployment (husband)

We can't go this way.  As the saying goes, "Something has got to give!"  So I've decided we need a one year plan.  We can only tolerate one more year of this and it will take a year to truly be able to make significant changes in certain areas of our lives in order to make it more live able, doable, enjoyable.

1. Serenity prayer for our older son plus everything in the world we can do for him
2. Nursing home for Mother-in-Law. . .it is time
3. Apply for SSI for both children with disabilities to help with the mounting cost of meds, therapy, co-pays, life coaches etc.
4. Continued work on weight and introduce walking in hopes of some kind of improvement (plus Serenity prayer)
5. Deal with ITP, I will be off Isotetrin by December, try herbal remedies for night sweats etc.
6. Stick with plans for 1-5 to help alleviate pressure (depression) and keep looking for work--ANY work 

In a year's time I expect for some things to have improved for us.  Cole will be a year older and hopefully additional services for him will help with development (e.g.: online schooling, job, social skills training, new neurologist to replace current psychiatrist).  A nursing home will also take a great deal of pressure off of our family.  The kids will not feel as ill at ease with their grandmother roaming around looking confused and coming upstairs half dressed and my husband will no longer have the responsibilities of counting out meds, dealing with Access-A-Ride, driving his mom to dialysis whenever she gets the days mixed up, feeding her etc.

Hopefully with some of the pressure gone it will be easier for my husband to look for work full time and who knows, maybe the economy gets better?  Once I am off the Isotetrin, my body will feel better, my lips will stop peeling and I can feel like a human being again.  As always I will keep trying with my weight--its been a struggle my whole life and always will be.

And maybe this time next year I will be able to updated the blog from today with a list of things that have gotten better for us.  (INSERT another Serenity prayer here) :)

The Renassaince

Ever feel the need to start everything in your life all over again?  To just scrub it all away and make it clean and new?  Is it possible for a person to die of SAMENESS?

My life has been like that for a long time it seems.  I'm trying to remember back when it all began but it almost seems like forever.  Same struggles, same small victories, same fight in your heart, same depression filling in the blanks around it.  My life feels like stagnant sitting water with mosquitoes zipping across it and I want it to change.

I have no idea how I am going to do this.  Every plan is a version of the plan before it and every failure another version of itself.  But if I really look hard and think back I can remember a time when my life was like fresh running water.  Back then I didn't bleed for 2 hours if I stubbed my toe (no ITP).  I carried whatever weight I had alot more gracefully than I am able to now; no squeaks and pops and stiffness after sitting for too long; no huffing and puffing from the simplest physical tasks.

I had stamina.  I used to.  I was happier and had a positive attitude.  I wasn't hot and uncomfortable all the time.  My mind was razor sharp and something I could always count on.  I used to be proud of myself and there was an element of invincibility--THIS WILL LAST FOREVER!  But it hasn't lasted forever.  The only thing that feels like forever is this crazy loop I'm in where all things lead back to the beginning.

So here we are.  Right back to the brackish, stagnant, standing water swatting at mosquitoes. . . only now some of them carry West Nile virus.

Perfect.

WAIT! I Think She's Getting Up Folks. . .

How long have I been out?

I look around to see where I am.  I notice that I am fine.

I make two fists and press them into the ground to push myself up to a standing position.

My body feel stiff and a little sore.

I look at my butt and dust it off.

I breathe. . . .

Looks like I'm gonna make it after all.

Done.

I am scraped and screed and scalped and bald and worn out.  No treads.  No traction.  Flayed and flattened and run down.  Rusted and broken.  A junker.

Gone.

Done.

A Trip to the Beach

We decided to take our sons to the beach on Sunday.  After waiting in a searing hot car with the kids in the driveway because my husband is late for everything, we drove point pleasant.  The closer we got the more excited Brian got and the more anxious Cole got.  After my husband I argued about what streets to take while the kids argued in the back, my favorite flip flops broke.   I scorched my feet on the pavement as we searched for a store to buy an inexpensive pair of flip flops.  by then Cole was in full pissed off mode and asked if we could just go back home.  Instead I dropped my husband and Brian off at he boardwalk...the poor kid just wanted to get his feet wet! And found out the beach was closing.  By now Coleman and I were parked on a side street and the aggravation level was at its peak. He crawled into the truck which u can do from the back seat and some how squeezed his gigantic body in with the cases of hot diet Pepsi.  My husband called and I heard Brian crying in the background.  I sighed and got out of the car.  I opened the trunk and told my son to get out of it.  When he asked why I told him that it was against the law and I couldn't afford another ticket.  He climbed out and we went to pickup my husband and a very disappointed Brian.  Then we went home.

Can you believe that shit?  My favorite pair of flip flops, which I got from Duane Reade 2 years ago broke..DAMN!  I just did not see that coming and I just don't know how I'm gonna move on from this.

The ITP Nosebleed - Life is an Adventure!

As I leaned over the tub to check the temperature of the water a droplet of red plinked into the bottom of the tub, quickly spread itself in the water, turned pink then washed away down the drain.  "What the hell was that?" I thought.  And then there were several more red drops in the tub swirling around and disappearing down the drain.  I realized they were somehow coming from me.  I touched nose and came away with a red smear on my palm.  "What. The. Hell?!?!"

In the few steps it took me to move over from the tub to the sink to look at myself in the mirror, the dribs and drabs of blood became a thin stream; then  a spout; then a torrent.  How could this much blood be coming out of one nostril?  I hadn't had a bloody nose since I was a kid and it was NEVER like this!  As I grabbed for the roll of toilet paper, a spray of blood arced across the sink, wall, floor and toilet seat like a red rainbow.  I shoved toilet paper up my nose and pinched the bridge.  Isn't that what you're supposed to do?  Before I could lean my head back the toilet paper in my nostril fell out with a flood of more blood and a chunk of gelatinous clots.

Frantically I shoved more tissue up my nose and pressed for direct pressure.  I held my head back still reeling from what was happening to me.  I had no time to think, it was bazaar.  Maybe this was it?  Maybe tonight was my night to die.  And that thought just pissed me off.  I didn't want to die and not even know what the hell I was dying from.  Suddenly I felt my throat fill up with the hot, coppery taste of blood and I spat into the sink.  Blood sprayed the entire bowl of the sink as a clot the size of two egg yolks plopped into the sink.  My throat kept filling up with it until I began to think I might actually drown in my own blood!

I jumped into the shower still half-dressed.  It was the only thing I could think of to do.  I spat another gory chunk of blood clots into the bottom of the tub and miraculously, these were even larger than the last.  I removed the tissue from my nose to get a better look.  I had a hard time processing what I was seeing.   The moment I removed that tissue, the blood flowed as freely like a faucet.  I remember thinking to myself that the metaphor of "flowing like a faucet", which always seemed like over-exaggeration whenever I read it in a book, actually applied to this situation quite literally.  I'd never heard of anyone dying from a nosebleed but goddam it how the fuck do you turn it off!?

After keeping my face lifted up to the water from the shower for a while, I grabbed for my towel and the roll of toilet paper and headed to my computer.  In seconds I had googled ITP nosebleeds and found out that for people with ITP this nosebleed was just about run of the mill.  Ordinary.  Old hat.  I learned that people with ITP shouldn't put there head back because they will end up swallowing too much blood and clots which will cause them to throw up.  Also, that several spritzes of Afrin (to constrict the blood vessels), Vaseline inside the nose and holding ice on the bridge of the nose were the only ways to stop it.  If the nosebleed lasts for more than 30 minutes, you should go to the hospital.

That made perfect sense because bleeding like that for 30 minutes really would require a transfusion I think.  By the time I got back to the bathroom the bleeding had mercifully slowed down to a drip.  The condition of the bathroom rocked me.  It was like returning to the scene of a crime--Psycho!  There was blood on the walls, blood on the floor, sprayed around the sink and toilet.  There was what looked like a bloody hand print in the shower and blood smears on the tiles leading out of the shower.  The shower curtain had also been sprayed with blood and small pools of it marked my exit from the bathroom to my computer.  

It took such a long time to clean up all of that blood.  Every time I bent down I'd feel the tickle of a new nosebleed and I'd have to stop.  It seemed the more I cleaned the more blood I'd find--on the mirror, on one of the shampoo bottles.  Finally I was finished cleaning up and I sat down on my bed exhausted and shaken.

I was diagnosed with ITP 2 years ago and I've always taken it in stride.  All the bruising on my thighs, arms, stomach and sometimes my hands; the petechiae. . .I would joke that ITP is not really dangerous. . .unless you bleed.  Hardy har har.  Somehow that't not as funny as it used to be.

Curly deflation

So I've had fun with my curly hair. I even adopted the au natural mindset and I've only used organic hair products all summer. 

What have I learned?  I've learned that generally I don't look good with curly hair.  People are amazed that my hair has the versatility to be straight AND curly but that's not the same as being a flattering look for me.

After watching my perfectly slick, gelled, sprayed ponytail become fringed in a halo of untamable frizz, it occured to me that natural is totally overated.  Last night I made a rash decision to relax my hair - just around the edges.  My own halo.

This morning I breathed a sigh of relief.  Finally I have some control over this mop of hair!

Turning 40

I friggin WISH I was turning 40!  I was a 175lbs when I turned 40 and I wore a size 12 and looked scrumptious.  I'll never forget that day--we had a party in the back yard and a friend of mine helped cater and serve.  It was hotter than Hades but hell if I was not going to wear my birthday outfit:  Delicious Calvin Klein jeans with a sleeveless electric blue silk top and long gold chains with coins on them adorning my neck.  Oh yes, and I had electric blue toenails and fingernails to go with it!  (Blue is my favorite color!)

But here I sit, about to turn 43 next month and somehow I've ballooned up to 215lbs.  Those Calvin Klein jeans have been stored away (for what, I don't know) and I cannot really bear the thought of ushering in birthday number 43 with this heavy burden both on my ass and in my heart.

Like a new car you drive off the lot, depreciation begins immediately.  After a few years shit just starts to fall off.  Things rust.  Wear out.  Need to be replaced.  Things loosen, slip, bulge and need oiling.  And no matter how much care you take there's always another screw loose here or a nut missing there.  For the first time every in the history of my life, I actually do NOT look forward to my birthday.

No one who knows me would believe it but its true this year.  The number never bothered me but the aches and pains do.  The extra weight and extra sweating does.  My ITP does and my teenage acne which grew into adult acne and is now considered hormonal acne does too.

Turning 40 was great, but 43?  in the words of my wise and brilliant older sister: "This is BULLSHIT!"

Brian and I

Yesterday I went to Montclair with my son, Brian.  He loves walking around just like me.  Also we went to Doin' Dishes and painted pottery.  I painted a bowl that looks like a flower.  Brian painted a cupcake with strawberries and on Saturday we will go back to get it.

Wait, wait, wait.  That was not me.  My SON dictated the top part of this blog.  He thinks its so easy to write a story.  LOL.  But I wanted to tell you a different story about our time yesterday.  We put money in the meter and walked down the block looking at the antique stores (which I love and Brian tolerates).

Fortunately, it wasn't blazing hot so the walking wasn't too bad.  The first thing Brian wanted was tea.  He loves tea.  He spotted the Starbuck's first so we made a beeline for it and he had his usual: hot black tea with a little ice and room for milk.  Instead of milk he puts in a good splash of half and half and 2 Splenda which makes the drink virually carbless so he doesn't have to give himself insulin for it.

After that I figured we should really eat something before his blood sugar starts dropping.  We went to an outside cafe and he ordered what he usually orders: pasta with olive oil and parmesan, a ceasar salad and a diet cola.   We sat under a giant square umbrella and as he talked excitedly about dinosaurs and their powers I watched his perfect, poreless, amber brown skin and his mess of eyelashes, and the two teeth he has in the front with another coming in next to it (he is definitely going to need braces) and I felt a pang at the idea that one day he would not be a little boy.

There is an easiness we have when we are together.  I feel unburdened for the most part when we are out together and my stress level drops dramatically.  We both have fiery tempers that flair at times and a low or a high blood sugar never helps things but over all I think it might be the absence of ADD that makes all the difference in the world.

My husband and my first son both have ADD and being around them can be a harrowing experience.   It's not that Brian and I aren't used to it by now or even that we dislike it.  I think its more that we need a break from it sometimes.  All the loud talk and the quick tempers and the confusion and the arguing--its just a cacophony of confusion, lost keys and wallets, forgetten meds, last minute delays, messiness, disorganization and stress.

But then there's that other thing--I really really like that kid, Brian.  He is interesting to talk to and his face is so animated that you can't help but become engaged in whatever he is saying.  I love how mature he is at 8 years old and I love how intuitive he is about people (especially me).  We both can just sit there having lunch and sip diet sodas and be totally content in each other's company...I am untaxed.

And as I watch and listen to him describing the differences in ceasar dressings; how the dressing on the salad he's eating is wayyyy better than any other dressing, as he is no longer a fan of the McDonald's ceasar dressing I feel afraid for myself that its all going too fast.  He is is going to grow up and I will have nothing left but the aged, curling memories like this one blowing in the wind. 

While I'm busy working on my "curl game",  our 14 year old son is working on his "weight loss game", "his anxiety game", "his Asperger game",  his ADD, Depression etc.  I am on a diet along with my son who would desperately like to loose weight before he starts high school.

I think he is trying to start fresh.  Become something new.  Not a freak?

He hasn't been in school since January 2012.  School creates a lot of pressure for him both because of his ADD and giftedness but also because of this AS and social anxiety.  Even when he appears normal on the outside he is scratching and clawing to get away from all of these "normal" people and these social norms that exhaust him.

Yesterday I slipped on my diet.  Bad!  And since I am a binge eater, when I slip it is a colossal, tangled legged, downward, top speed, spiral, tuck and roll to the end.  My son was devastated.

"You're not my mother."
"How could you do this?"
"I don't even know you."
"So you're just going to give up...."

I sat back, angry and indignant and hurt by the truth of it, slurping down my second giant bowl of apple pie and ice cream.  It is very hard to be perfect.  Lord knows I've spent my entire life trying, but kids are a wiz at pointing out every flaw you have and then making you feel like shit about it.

I already felt like shit, so I only felt shitty-er.  Today, my son decided to follow me down the slide into oblivion and ate a half a gallon of ice cream and 12oz bag of chocolate chips.  Both of us have been battling with our weight for a while although he was skinny as a kid and I just never was.  So his binge was my fault.

Bad genes?  Nature vs. Nurture?  I really don't know.  So I will continue dieting and trying to help my son do the same as I work on my curls to see if maybe, just maybe, I can get SOME damn thing right.

Curly Girls

I know it seems like this has turned into a curly hair blog but really, it hasn't.  What I love about blogging is that there are no rules.  It's the truest form of freedom to express oneself without worrying about grammar, punctuation or staying on topic.  So I write about what is interesting, important or aggravating to me at any given time.  It just so happens I am currently obsessed with curly hair at the moment.

There are SOOOO many products out there to choose from.  Slowly but surely I am trying them all, which is a daunting - not to mention expensive - task.  Shea Moisture products remains my favorite product line so far although I STILL haven't tried Mixed Chicks yet but soon.

I've had a few bad experiences with my curly hair.  Consistency is the biggest problem.  Sometimes I get nice chunky curls that sit properly on my head and other times the front right side of my hair won't curl or I somehow must have messed with it too much while it was wet and I get that disturbing "web" of frizz over my beautiful curls.

Then again I am still experimenting so maybe that would account for it.  Either way my hair is being more conditioned by this process than ever before so I'm curious to see if it's in better shape by the time the cool weather comes and I wear it straight more often.  All I can tell you is that you need to be very generous with the product, especially if you have thick hair.    On one of the videos I watched it said you should hear a certain squelchy sound and that's how you know you have enough product in your hair.  It's true.

So stay tuned for more ...

A Very Good Day

Hot! Hot! Hot!

A few weeks ago I went to North Carolina with my younger son to visit my family.  The houses there are newer than the ones in West Orange, NJ.  My house was built in 1927.  My sister's house is in a sub division and was probably built less than 15 years ago.  That means CENTRAL AIR!

But even with that, I was so hot during the entire visit that my mom raised her eyebrows and said, "Maybe you're going through the change."  The change?  Just because the house was damned hot?  Ok, fast forward to last weekend.  My husband and I went to a children's birthday party at a friends house.

Yes, it was hot.  It really was, but I seemed to be the only one bleeding sweat.  I did not perspire.  I sweated from my cheeks, my chin, my nose, my neck, my armpits.   As we sat poolside watching the children play and splash I was busy mopping my face so frequently that people began asking me if I was ok.  Of course I'm ok! I thought.  Jeez, it was friggin hot.  By the end of the party I sat in the same folding chair with empty bottles of what had been ice cold water and a half used roll of paper towels which someone had finally brought over just for me.

Ok, all of that is well and good.  It was a hot day.  But then last night as I tried to lay down and go to sleep all I could hear was the hum of the air conditioner which was on full blast.  I didn't feel it.  I just could hear it.  My son lay next to me waiting for his father to carry him off to bed.  As I lay there I seemed to feel the heat radiating off of my son like a hot stone.

I shifted and threw the covers off.  No good.  I put my face and head up to the air conditioner.  I was only cool until I peeled my face off of the air conditioner.  Then I was just as hot as I was before.  I put my pillow up to the air conditioner to try to cool it off.  Nothing doing.  So I laid there as the back of my ears dribbled sweat whirls down the back of my neck and around to the front of my neck.  My armpits ran.  Underneath my breasts were drenched.

My husband brought in the fan put it next to the bed.  Nothing.  Finally he put the fan on my night table pointing directly at me.  Ahhhhh.  Finally!  Finally the sweat evaporated and my skin began to feel cool.  Still I slept fitfully which is not like me at all.  I don't know what this is but if this IS the change I am in for some serious misery!!!

More Curly Thoughts

So here's what I've learned: 

1. The front of my hair does not like to curl
2. It takes a long ass time to dry my hair naturally
3. All curly hair has a "type" which you can find out on naturallycurly.com
4. Seems like I am losing MORE hair in the shower than I used to (gotta pay attention to that, not sure if its my imagination or what)
5. Too MUCH product is a bad thing
6. Too LITTLE product is a worse thing
7. Experimenting with different products and different amounts is key to get the right combination for YOUR hair
8. My FAVORITE products are: Jane Carter Leave in Conditioning spray and  Shea Moisture Restorative conditioner
9. My favorite product line overall is the Shea Moisture line which can be found at Target and Walgreens (it's also the least expensive).
10. Moroccan Oil and Argan Oil are very nice but will NOT change your life (as I had been told by so many people)   

Reaching Potential

It's great to feel the tide turn after a long battle with sameness.  You know how a person might struggle so long in a bad relationship or with their weight or with being unemployed.  After a while all the battling and failing and whing and compllaining and feeling sorry for yourself just gets so old.

Thats where I am right now.  I have been strugglinrg with my weight, my acne, my hair.   Finally I'm losing a few pounds here and there and I'm taking Isotetrin for my acne.  And then there's the curly revelotion which is more chane and less fight against what is natural (my curly hair).  Suffice it to say I am feeling great these days.

Change is good.  Sucess is even better.

More Curly Revelations

I'm learning so much about my hair and its texture.  What it likes to do.  What it wants to do and what it refuses to do.  I put my little sister on to the curly revelation and now she and I are texting and sending pics of our hair and new products we are trying to get our naturally curly hair just right.

This is so much fun!  And the beauty of it all is that there are no real mistakes.  If you jack it up, you can sling it into a ponytail.  So I'm still using the Shea Moisture Curl Defining Souffle because I like it and it works and since I paid for it, I'm going to finish it.  However, there is a tendency for crunchy-ness so after I'm done with it I'd like to try something lighter like Mixed Chicks leave-in conditioner.

It's all about experimentation

The CURLY Revolution

I have curly hair.  All my sisters have curly hair.  My brothers do too.  But what do people with curly hair do?  They spend crazy amounts of time, money and energy trying to STRAIGHTEN their hair.  That has always been me.  I wanted to wear straight styles that would make my hair have some weight and body to it.

I remember as a kid being in the shower and putting my head back to feel my hair on my butt.  Hard to believe it was ever that long because my hair is curly and curly hair shrinks.  That totally sucks for a girl.  I am from a mixed background so my hair is mixed too.  It's not exactly kinky enough to really benefit from a relaxer and Lord knows I don't need anything to make it curlier.  But in the right environment--cool, no humidity or high winds--my hair takes a kick ass roller set!!

Since I can't live in a bubble surrounding myself in just the right climate to maximize the beauty of my hair I most often live in a world of frizz.  Recently though, I've let my hair grow and as always it pretty much stays in a ponytail now that its summertime.  However, I have learned of something new to me but clearly has been on the rise for a while.

Natural Hair.  Go Curly.  There's a movement to embrace your curls.  To live your curls and to love them.  How bizarre?  But then I started doing a little more research.  There are thousands of videos on YOUTUBE.  From what I've read so far. . .there may be something to this curly thing.

I'll get back to you with an update as I start my journey to The CURLY Revolution.

To Confirm or not to Confirm?

Maybe its just me but when you see a person on a Monday and plan to meet somewhere for drinks, that scenario requires a confirmation.  I mean 4 or 5 whole days have passed.  What if somethinng came up?  What if your friend forgot?  What if something changed in your own life and you can't make it? These are the times when a confirmation call is in order.

This is how I was raised.  It's what I believe in and so I find it frustrating as hell that Confirming seems to have fallen out of fashion.  How hard is it to shoot a text to someone or pick up the phone?  Email is fine.  Can you imagine if no one confirmed anything ever?

We are talking about a bunch of 2person tables filled with one pissed off, hurt, sad, or confused person sitting there wondering what the hell happened.  The concept of Confirming becomes even deadlier when we are talking about a playdate.  Holy Crap! If I can tell you how many times I've sat home with my son waiting for a friend and his mother to show up only to find out that their plans had changed or that they had forgotten.  That's what happens when you don't confirm and I hate when people disappoint my kids.

I had tried to go lightly on the Confirming at one point so as not to appear over-eager, pathetic or anal.  But you know what?  Confirming  does make a person any of those things.  Confirming makes you responsible so that you can plan your time and consequently, your life.

So for people who think Confirming is stupid or old fashioned or unnecessary. . .I am here to tell you that is such total BULLSHIT!

Sorry I've been away!!!

I don't imagine that I have any CONSTANT readers yet and that is my fault for not writing as diligently here as I do on my other blog: www.thestoryofadvocacy.com.  I am to blame for sure and to any stragglers who have come by to check in on me, I truly do apologize.

However, I am back!  Please keep the faith that I will be around for you to read and comment and hopefully learn something or at the very least laugh and shake your head at my utter ridiculousness!

Wish Me Luck!

Challenges force people to either rise to the top or sink to the bottom.  I mean, you can only tread water but for so long right?  After that you either have to swim to safety or give it up and accept drowning as your fate.

A friend of mine was recently beaten by her boyfriend.  It stunned me, but it also showed me a lot about myself.  Before I had two special needs children I could easily afford to be judgmental of other people.  And I was.  Look at that child having a tantrum. . .my kid would NEVER embarrass me like that.  Or look at that poor woman who can't control her kid or jeez why can't we pack  PB&J just because this ONE child has a peanut allergy?

The lessons I've learned as a mother have made me a better person.  Expanded my ability to understand things that on the surface, don't make sense to me.  So instead of feeling superior, I felt true compassion for my friend--a woman who may very well be trapped.  Though the trapping would be of her own doing, it is part of a larger issue that somehow makes her believe she is less than she is.  I want to help her.  I want to change her.  I'm afraid that I can't do either but at least I know that now I can still care about her instead of writing her off as stupid or hopeless.

When it comes to battery especially, I can say that try as I might I will never understand it.  That is MY personality...I am a fighter.  I have personal boundaries and I have made that clear all my life.  The idea of someone crossing those boundaries and hitting me the way a parent would spank or beat a child; the way a gang member might assault someone who owed him money and didn't pay; none of that computes.

I have always felt fully formed and individual as far back as I can remember.  I think that sense of self might have been one of the most difficult parts of being a parent to a kid like me.  But that is who I am and ever shall be.  My friend expressed sadness at how awful it must be for her boyfriend to be such a bully and again I was dumbfounded by the importance, caring, and thought that was focused on him, her abuser, rather than on herself.

This is a disease for the abuser and the abused.  I guess no matter how many Lifetime specials, True TV crime stories and after school specials air, there will always be a segment of the female population who will be beaten; will forgive; and will risk the likelihood of being beaten again.  But for THIS young woman, I plan to be there for her in every way I know how in hopes of helping her to see her own significance in this big nasty world.

Wish me luck!

Isotetrinoin

Today i started Isotetrnoin.  its the generic name for Accutane, which is no longer made because of the danger and litigation for its serious side effects.  its not like the people who took it were not aware.

When I tell you what a rigmaroll it is to start these meds...jeez!  First the doctor tells you about the possible side effects  Here a just a few for giggles: dry lips and mouth, minor swelling of eyes, nosebleeds, thinning of hair, depression, violent behavior, joint pain, hearing loss, rectal bleeding, vision changes and pancreatitis.

Of course everyone doesn't experience every side effect but damn, right?  lol.  This will be my 3rd time on this medicine but I am in the minority because the cure rate is actually quite good (85%).  Its worth the risk to me anyway and it is the only thing on the market that can possibly be considered a cure, so im kinda stuck with it like or not.

Anyone know what condition Isotetrinoin is used to treat?  If not, you'll just have to guess.

Hoarders

My house is starting to look like an episode of hoarders.

There's a wide triangular shelf where the wall slopes down to meet the floor in my attic.  I'm looking at it right now.  There's a broken SORRY! game box--missing pieces no doubt, and a Black & Decker sander (what the hell did we ever use that for?)  I see some curtain rods, a broken board of sheet rock and four frosted glass light shades.

There are old clothes spilling out of a Land's End shopping bag, a stuffed bear, a box of Armstrong self-stick adhesive wall border and an antique milk glass lamp I HAD to have on my 36th birthday.  Jeans in various sizes for boys and women and men are tucked between a box of old shoes and a stack of pillows for company.

Oddly, there is a vast array of Snugglies--which turned out to be a huge disappointment for their cumbersome breadth that always seemed to knock over cups and mugs of coffee whenever we got up or sat down with all of that voluminous fabric draped around our body.  There's a black plastic bag (clothes probably), a white plastic shoe rack, a box of bandaids and a box of Space Bags, which again were a grave disappointment.

3 Pokemon books are wedged between a plastic storage container (more clothes that don't fit any of us), a handsaw, a wooden birdhouse I painted with my son several years ago and is that a box of CLUB crackers??!?

We gotta have a garage sale this year or else I will need to buy a black catsuit, rubber gloves and night vision goggles to sneak some of this stuff out of the house while my husband is a asleep.

Fried CHICKEN!

My mother in law lives with us.  She is older and after suffering a few strokes, kidney failure and sarcoidosis, she has been left with limited movement, dimentia, and an almost religious committment to the almighty Fried Chicken.  No matter what time, day or night, she is hitting my husband up for some fried chicken.

Some days she will grab a couple of wings and clasp them tightly to her breast eating furtively as if someone is going to steal her fried chicken.  She will do this until my husband sees her and tells not to hide her chicken and to get a plate or at least a paper towel.  Sometimes she will get up and get one. . .other times she with try to eat her fried chicken faster.

It's been a comedy routine in our household ever since she moved in.  "I need me some chicken," she will say and my husband will reply, "Woman, you don't need no chicken!"  He tells her we have plenty of food in the house and why doesn't she have a tuna sandwich.  I wince because I know what's coming next:

"I need me some chicken"

And like a wind up toy, my husband is off and running.  I swear I have never seen 2 people spend more time talking about, arguing over, or eating fried chicken than my husband and his mother!

MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES!

The swimsuit I mentioned was not from Woman Within, but from Jessica London.  Look for "Convertible 3-Way Swimsuit."

3-way Convertible? Who knew!

Ok I have to tell you guys about this awesome thing I found.  First let me give you some background here.  I am pleasantly plump.  Well, that's what I'm calling it today okay?  And no, I am not giving anyone a penny for their thoughts!

So anyway, I definitely have some er, uh, "thigh issues".  Its getting hotter and hotter by the day and I love going to the pool, but I totally hate  showing my upper thighs.  What's worse is that I have ITP (you will never be able to pronounce what that stands for so let's leave it at acronym).  That means I have low blood platelets.  The problem with that is that it causes bruising for no reason at all.  The bruises don't hurt and they are not from bumping into anything.  They just appear.  On my upper thighs!

So for the past two weeks I've been trying to find THE perfect coverup.  Something gauzy and sheer but not pornographic.  Something without sleeves so I don't sweat to death.  Something that looks chic and casual without screaming "I'm fat, please don't look!"  Overall I'm a pretty confident woman but you know . . . sometimes a girl needs to cover up some stuff.

I've been all over ebay, llbean, Lands End, Macy's, Roaman's, The Avenue, etc.  Nothing really fit my ideal description of a coverup.  Sometimes the fat lady stores have things like dashikis and off the shoulder cutout thingys and batwing this or that.  It's so annoying.  I mean I don't want to look like a damn Golden Girl you know?

Anyway, I get this catalogue in the mail yesterday and there it was.  It was like light and gregorian chants burst from that page and my face lit up in thankfulness and gratitude.  Woman Within has what they call a "3-way Convertible bathing suit".  Oddly, I've seen this on their website but for some stupid reason they don't show you the 3 ways it can be converted so I had no idea how cool it was.  But the catalogue shows you.

Check this out.  The bathing suit has a dress attached to it with a slit on the side.  And not a dress that makes you look like a hippo in a tutu either.  It's a full size dress that comes down your leg right above the knee!!!  How freakin cool is that.  So you can wear it tied under the bust  which looks nice if you're like the model in the catalogue: toned and just big boned.  Or, you can wear it like a sarong to show as much or as little thigh as you want and tie it to the side.  Or just leave the whole thing down like a dress.  And its all swimsuit material so you can go into the water like that and never have to take it off or put it on!!!!

Why don't they make this a standard design for all women??  Women with big butts would love it.  Women with big thighs would love it.  Women with ITP would love it.  And modest women would love it.  Woman Within should kill their advertising and PR company for missing such a unique opportunity to stand out.  Anyway. . . I ordered it yesterday and can't wait to get in the water!!!

Creeeeaaaakkkkkk!

Creeeeaaaaak.  Crack crack crack. Whoomph!  Creeeeeaaak, creak, creak.  Whoomph!

I have this antique Windsor chair in my living room (creeeeaaaakkkk) and it's one of my prize possessions.  I remember going to an estate sale in Maplewood, it was late in the day and there wasn't much left.  Clearly the elderly couple was tired from the long day of people traipsing in and out of their house.   (Crack.....crack)  They practically gave it to me and I paid the nominal fee they asked feeling so clever and so satisfied with my purchase.  I love my Windsor chair.

No one really sits in it because the spindles sometimes become undone on the back seat of the chair; its old whaddya want?  That's why I have an antique crocheted throw over the back of it.  But it is still so beautiful to me.  In fact, most old things are beautiful to me (Whoomph!)  Antiquing is my favorite past time.  There are so many wonderful stories behind a milk glass perfume bottle with its fragile, opalescent edges,  a manual eggbeater, an old milk can, cigar boxes, or a worn rocking chair.

Syrup carafes remind me of going to the International House of Pancakes with my parents when I was a little girl.  Bread boxes, antique quilts, rolltop writing desks, Martha Washington side tables and wrought iron headboards all spark the same nostalgia of the things I had grown up with in our house (crack...crack, crack, crick crack) or my grandma's summer house in Sag Harbor.

Percolators for example (Whoomph!) remind me of mornings in Sag Harbor during the summer.  The adults walked about yawning and waiting for their coffee while the kids hurriedly put on our bathing suits ready to hit the beach.  (Creakkkk) --

FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY!  What in the hell is all that damn creaking and cracking and shit?  I get up an lean into the living room--God give me strength!  My mother in law is sitting in the goddam Windsor chair and has been try to get out of it for the past 10 minutes! She is too lazy to move the fricken TV tray in front of her which is why no matter how she rocks and creaks and cracks she will never get out of that fucking chair!

Who does that?  My poor Windsor chair is moaning in pain at the abuse this woman is putting it through, rocking and squatting and falling back down into with with a Whoomph!  Part of me knows its not really her fault.  But the other part of me wants her to get her ass out of my frickety frackin antique Windsor chair!!!


 

Is This Love?

My husband has always been a loving, forgetful, irresponsible, caring, procrastinating, kind and always late type of guy who has never been able to manage finances.  He also has a permanent residence in Denial, USA.  For the past 5 years or so, it has bothered me more and more.  Once our son was finally diagnosed with ADD I began to see the similarities between him and his Dad.

After a long struggle, we finally found the right meds for our son and he is doing so much better than he ever has before.  My husband has gotten worse.  My therapist thinks it's not necessarily that he has gotten worse, but that because our son is doing better I have more free time to look at my own life.

Either way, it can be devastatingly lonely to be married to someone with ADD.  Your spouse becomes your child and you are no longer on the same level.  Instead you mete out these never ending lists of things to do, call periodically throughout the day to remind, send a few text messages to confirm where and when your spouse needs to leave for an appointment and not to forget his keys which are in his gray sweatpants pocket (not the black ones)

The truth is that it is very difficult to be sexually attracted to someone who is so deeply dependent on your lists and reminders in order for them to function slightly below average in their day to day life.  And who wants a nag for a spouse anyway?  This really is a no win situation.


For all their good intentions, a spouse with ADD who is in denial can suck the life right out of you.  Take the wind out of your sails, rain on your parade, kill your buzz, I mean you name it and that's what it feels like.  All at once you are frustrated and angry and the other person has no idea what your all worked up about and assumes it must have something to do with work. . .or your period.

It's not that I don't understand what he is going through.  Our son has ADD and we have talked about alot of things with his psychiatrist.  We've read a lot about it so it is not foreign to us.  But I do think that a spouse has a responsibility to his family to be the very best he can be.

A "Take me as I am" attitude might be met with a "Leave you like you are" response to that selfish position.

Whatever You Do PLEASE DON'T TRY!

I hate people who try.

You know once I took one of those personality tests and they said the best profession for me would be a Drill Sergeant.  I don't disagree really, I'm all about the doing of stuff.  Phrases like "will do", "can do" and "done" really turn me on.  Me likey.  But just think about it for a moment. . .you invite someone out for drinks with the girls, you ask someone to call you later, you tell your kid to behave in school, you ask your husband to remember to bring the books back to the library; and what do they all say:  "I'LL TRY".

Boy that shit really chaps my ass!  Honestly, you know damn good and well that even when you yourself say it you mean it more like you have no intention whatsoever of trying.  People use it as out.  "I'LL TRY" is a polite way to NOT do things.  If you read between the lines you'll find that more often than not when a person says they will try what it really means is that you probably can't or won't do it, you'll do it if nothing good is on TV, you'll do it if you find the time or when pigs fly or after you learn how to ice skate when hell freezes over.  I mean how many people who TRY to understand ever do?

The really important thing to take note of is that the fact that you tried is extremely irrelevant to any task or request you didn't complete or do.  People use trying all time as a consolation prize for NOT doing something.  "Well, at least you tried."  That is such bullshit!  If you tried to save yourself from being hit by a car would you sit in the hospital with your ass in a sling feeling self satisfied because at least you tried?!  What about Nike?  Would their slogan be as powerful if it said "Just TRY to do it"? And do you think people win awards and change the world by trying to discover or invent something?  As far as I know there has never been an acceptance speech that ended with "At least I tried."

Ok, I know that I'm getting myself a little worked up here but I'm almost done.  Promise me this: the next time you feel those two idiotic words rise to your lips just shut it up.  Practice not trying.  Make it a habit not to try.  And for the love of all that is holy please don't let anyone TRY to do anything for you because then you'll really have your ass in a sling!

Plus Size My Ass!

Why is it that when you're looking for plus size clothing, the models wearing the plus size clothing are always regular sized?  Look online and you'll see--Macy's, Old Navy, Jessica London, SimplyBe even Roaman's.  They show how drawstring linen pants will fit a woman who has a space in between her legs.  They show you fitted tank tops on women without backfat,  and dresses on women with big boobs and flat stomachs.  What the hell good is that?


Talbots and The Avenue have models who are slightly more realistic but are instead of fat, merely bodacious.  Models with 22" waists and 44" hips.   These women have near perfect proportions.  They are amazons with hourglass figures that cause fabric to skim the waist and cling in all the right places.  Most of these women are unnaturally tall and are more rubinesque than plus size.


IGIGI is yet another plus size store online that features women with cartoonishly big breasts and ass for days!  Like an exaggerated superheroes these women are nothing like me either.  The are not in between an obese and a fat place.  There's no chance they will ever lose weight and after looking at them you'd wonder why they'd ever want to?  Everything about them is lucious and plentiful and joyously curvy.  Their faces are beautiful and unusually slender given all the stuff that sits below it and they look like deliberate creations.


But then go to Zappos.  They make no apologies for their models.  Their models are the MOST realistic I've ever seen.   They have bad skin and double chins and bad hair days (which I find a little unforgiveable) and are apple shaped, like me.  Most of them look like shit in their "Maude-like" get ups with voluminous fabrics that are too colorful and have too much pattern.  When a Zappos model wears a tank top, dammit you see her rolls, her fat rounded shoulders.  Its a very good representation of how you will look with those same clothes on.  This is why I'd never buy clothes from Zappos.  Where's my inspiration if the models look like this raw and real?  Zappos makes me feel bad about myself and that's when it occurs to me: this is exactly why most other websites don't depict "real women".  I mean who the hell wants to see that when you can look at it every day in the mirror?!

Shameful, Filthy Thoughts

Have you ever just wished for a do-over?  Sometimes I look around at my life and seem to only find the flaws.  Or at least the flaws are weighing more heavily lately than all the stuff I have to be thankful for.  The grass is always greener, be happy with what you have, you never know what you have until its gone.  Yeah I know all of that, yet I can't shake the unmistakable feeling that somewhere along the line I may have missed the boat.


I am not one to be plagued by what if's.  I am a decisive person with very few regrets.  So why does that question keeps going through my head like a banner attached to a plane going in circles.  It's not that my life is so bad or anything but I do wonder what it would be like not to have to check blood sugars at midnight or change infusion sets in the car because we didn't realize our son's pump only had 1 unit of insulin left before we left the house.  What would it be like not to have to worry about my son getting into a car or having sex without having a snack first?


My younger son, who is adventurous, came with me to an open house in a tony neighborhood recently.  The house was devoid of furniture so you could see all of the beautiful unscuffed wooden floors, the pristine wainscoting, the steady spiral staircase that led to spacious rooms with plenty of windows and light.  Nearly every room had its own bathroom.  Not at all like my house where there's always that knock at the door "What?", "I have to pee, are you gonna be in there long?" "Well, gimme a coupla minutes jeez..." "Ok.  And don't forget to spray!"


We are all guilty of comparing the outsides of other families with the inside of our own.  When you have special needs children, maybe you do that more?  Or maybe you do it less, because there's no time to daydream--there's usually only time enough to brace yourself for the next crisis.  Perhaps that somehow intensifies the feeling when you finally do have it?


Do other people ever imagine what it's like to spend every thread of hope and prayer on there NOT being a meltdown on any given day?  Is there someone out there dreaming of MY life and thinking how interesting it must be in comparison to their thin, boring, perfect, meaningless life?

PANTIES

Panties.

There are panty raids, panty wars and panty shields.  You got panty girdles and pantyhose too.  There's getting your panties in a twist and there is putting on your big girl panties but what I really came here to discuss is my panties.  I swear I don't ever recall having such an antagonistic relationship with my underwear.

It's true, I've gained a few pounds (39) but perhaps I might have been more careful about avoiding those softball-sized muffins and pints of Sweet Cream ice cream from Coldstone if I'd known in advance how that would impact my panty life.

Jockey hi-cut used to be my favorite.  They always fit perfectly and they are soft and if you really scour the internet you can find Jockey hi-cut panties with strawberries on them, flowers or stars.  I like that sort of thing.  But big ass panties are something different entirely!

I began my quest about 20 pounds ago when my underwear first stared rolling down.   OMG!  The military really could trade in water boarding and just make terrorist wear panties that roll down.  And they don't just roll down all at once--no--you can feel the band buckle at first.  Then there's this slow progression like a strip tease.

Slow torture is more like it!  First the panties roll down to your bellybutton and then stop there.  You think you're gonna be ok.  You had a set back, but nothing you can't handle.  You take a deep breath to regroup but then you feel that damn slow roll again.  You want so badly to jerk them back up just to avoid that next progression.  Sometimes I do, but when I'm sitting at my desk at work, I think the word for that particular move would be "inappropriate".  Sometimes I can't help myself and I do it anyway.  Those poor security cameras!

Ok so where were we?  Yes, so when panties come to a halt at the belly button you know you're in trouble.  The next step is a fast zip down to the very bottom of your stomach.  Your panties I mean.  That's where they end up.  I guess if you're thin that's where they start out, but when you are. . .er, em. . .not thin, that is where they end up.

Since this phenomena I have traveled to Macy's, JC Penney, Walmart and Lord & Taylor.  I've bought underwear from CVS, from Target, and from The Avenue.  Nothing doing.  I try size 7.  Size 9.  Hi-cut.  French cut.  My closet is chock full of 4-packs and 6-packs of underwear each with one pair missing:  I CAME, I SAW, I TRIED ON, I TORE OFF, I POUTED.

But 3 weeks ago I discovered a beautiful thing.  BRIEFS!  Jockey has a SuperSoft brief that fits perfectly and makes me feel very warm and happy inside.  This underwear rarely rolls down and for that, I forgive it on the few occasions when it does.  I managed to find Jockey SuperSoft briefs with polka dots.  Then I looked on ebay and found a 3-pack with a purple pair and a pair with purple and orange circles (SCORE!).

These panties have changed my life.  I am a happier more productive person.  I've learned to laugh more and my outlook on life has improved dramatically.  Perhaps I'll even stop taking my anti-depressants. . . ?

The Perfect Coffee Cup

I don't go anywhere without coffee.  I like it steaming hot and black (I know you know how bad I wanna say "like my men" right?)  Anyway,  I drink coffee when I wake up in the morning; paired with a Marlboro Ultra Light (Oh, excuse me--Silver Pack.)  I drink coffee while I'm driving to work and I drink more at my desk throughout the day.  I also make sure I have a cup of coffee whenever I am in a meeting at my kid's school or anyplace really.

t's not like I have nothing better to do or anything, but it's really important for an avid coffee drinker such as myself, to find the perfect coffee cup.  I tried the cup at Dunkin Donuts and it sucked.  Now this is nothing against Dunkin Donuts itself; hell, I could probably afford to purchase a summer home if I ever quit drinking Dunkin Donuts coffee but their travel coffee mug really sucks.  No matter what you do somehow coffee dribbles down your chin because the plastic lip of their travel mugs is too fat.

Starbucks is another place I've earned frequent flyer miles at, but their travel coffee mugs also suck.  I've purchased travel coffee mugs from: Duane Reade, CVS, Sears, Kmart, Bed, Bath & Beyond, Shoprite and Panera.  All of them SUCK!  Some of them dripped. Others leaked.  Still others never quite got seasoned and still managed to make the coffee taste like plastic or pencil shavings.

It's really important for a travel coffee cup to be sippable, no spillage.  It must allow the coffee to taste the way it would in a regular ceramic mug at home.  A travel coffee mug must be able to keep your coffee nice and hot.  And you can't have it leaking water every time you wash it.   Oh and that's another thing.  NEVER WASH YOUR TRAVEL COFFEE CUP WITH SOAPY WATER!  No matter what, it will forever make your cup taste like bubbles.

So last Christmas I went on yet another quest for the perfect travel coffee cup.  Target had one near the door on my way out.  It was maybe $3.99 or something and so I grabbed one.  I wrapped it up and addressed it to myself.  After that, I totally forgot about it.  I suffered all through the month of December with a travel coffee cup that was otherwise perfect except every time I lifted the cup to drink the tab at the top would slide closed so I'd only end up with a few drops of coffee in my mouth.

On Christmas day I opened my gift to myself last.  My travel coffee cup.  It is magnificent.  State of the art, really.  It sips perfectly;keeps my coffee piping hot;and allows the true rich flavor of the coffee to shine through.  My $3.99 travel coffee cup from Target has changed my life.

Pounds of Crisis

My 20's were some of the best times of my life.  You should have seen me then!  I had a job with an investment banking firm when the economy was at its peak.  That meant access to shows, restaurants, seats I'd never be able to afford otherwise.  It was the land of milk and honey and I enjoyed every drop.

I worked out at the New York Health and Racquet Club on my lunch hour and after work 5 days a week and had a cute little eating disorder on the side.  I was a size 6 (sometimes a size 4 on the top . . . to my chagrin) and man was I hot!  I was always getting those secret side glances or else those boldly lustful stares that made me more uncomfortable than I liked to let on.

Since I was a kid, I've struggled with my weight but my 20's were definitely a time of total narcissism and self indulgence.  I only had myself to think about so that's what I did.  I thought about my hair, my nails, my body, my weight, my money, my vacations, my shopping.  Damn it was a great time in history for me!

22 years later, I am faced with a shitty, bitter, hard to swallow truth.  I don't have time for most of that pampering and self-indulgence.  Even if I did, it would interfere with my dozing off like an old fart.  I have 2 kids and a husband and a mortgage and more bills that I know what to do with.  I've gained back every ounce of weight I've ever lost.  I have ITP too (a platelet disorder that causes constant bruising on upper thighs, stomach and arms) so even if I didn't look like a sausage in a bathing suit, at best I could probably pass for an abused wife who is shelter worthy.

My 30's were great in their own way.  That time of your life starts cementing who you are -- you come to grips with a lot of your short comings and you either let go of certain dreams and watch them fly away with a smile or else you make them come true.  It's a time when you really get to know yourself and if you're lucky. . .like the person you've found.

40 started off with a bang but then slid helplessly and full tilt downhill. The economy never really did recover although I think its stabilized somewhat.  I haven't had money problems since my late teens/early 20's so returning to that now definitely feels uncomfortable and kind of pisses me off.

And things I never questioned before have started cropping up.  Like whether or not I want to stay married to my husband; whether I want to move to Maine so that I can be closer to Stephen King and if I should try acupuncture.   Maybe this is my midlife crisis?  Maybe I am just a different person than I used to be?

Or maybe I just need to lose some weight?