End of the World as I Know it.

Yep. It’s official… the end of the world as I know it.

Things will be forever changed.

My bald spot is finally starting to fill in. I don’t know if I should thank the medication(s) or the new shampoo I’m using but I’m certainly not going to complain either way. NOT rocking a bald patch as a 25 year old female is like a dream come true!

It only stands to reason that a few of my luscious locks would…

Migrate.

Jump ship.

To.

My.

FACE.

 

 

I have chin hairs. Not the blonde, short, fine hairs that cover the rest of my face. They’re longer, darker, sprout from my chin hairs. The I-walked-past-a-mirror-and-noticed-it kind of hair.

A whole new world has opened up for me!

I can now run away to the circus and moonlight as the bearded lady.  My lucky, lucky husband. I pray, desperately hope, desire B never EVER finds out about this…recent development!

I’m also taking applications to be my very special friend who swears a blood oath to tell me when another chin hair sprouts up if I miss it. Plucking said chin hairs if I’m ever unconscious is non-negotiable. Experience not needed, but waiting until I’m out of ear shot to make fun of me is a must.

Either that or hoping and praying my new beard fills in enough to cover my raging adult acne.

Oy.

My Reality

In our house the television is almost always on. If I’m home alone I have it on for the noise while I’m doing stuff around the house. If B is home it’s on some kind of sports related show to the point where the numbers for the ESPN family of channels are more than a little worn off…or some kind of Maaaaaan movie that Brian has seen a million and one times (and by default I’ve seen it a million and one times too. We could really use a second tv…) and is older than I am with horrible graphics and a scantily clad damsel in distress or some raunchy comedy with lots of cleavage and more than a few fart jokes. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good fart joke, but if you’ve heard one, you’ve basically heard them all.

There are tons, TONS of reality shows out there covering just about any and all topics. American Idol, Survivor, Say Yes to the Dress, What Not to Wear, Celebrity Apprentice, Mob Wives, True Life and the WHOLE multitude of Real Housewives just to name a few.

There is one topic that’s very real to thousands and thousands of women and families that isn’t the basis for any show. *With the exception of episodes of  The Little Couple and Giuliana and Bill*

INFERTILITY

 

There are a multitude of shows dealing with babies. Delivering baby, bringing baby home, baby’s first hours home, baby’s first hours in the world, siblings and the new baby, having a baby not knowing you were pregnant, first time parents, second time parents, parents of multiples, parents of large families. Bunches and bunches of shows. All dealing with the joy (and pains) of pregnancy, childbirth and parenting. If the parents in the shows had any difficulties getting pregnant or staying pregnant that part is glossed over, swept under the rug, pushed into the background.

As much as I wish it wasn’t, infertility is my reality. I know I’m not the only one.

I would faithfully watch a show about infertility. It would be comforting to me to see that I’m not alone. To know that there is someone else who knows what it’s like to miss a period or 4, getting my hopes up only to tumble down into the dark hole of depression when I do get a period or only one line on the pregnancy test.

I would rejoice and shed tears of joy and excitement (and possibly jealousy and envy…) when someone did get the positive pregnancy test. The healthy child. The (biological or adoptive) addition to their family they so desperately wanted, yearned for, tried for, and spent thousands of dollars for.

There might not always be a happy ending, but I think sharing the story, finding acceptance in an infertility diagnosis, looking at options, knowing you weren’t alone could be extremely therapeutic for all involved.

Being able to put a story, a name, a face as someone else that is dealing with infertility and come out the other side, good or bad, and lived to tell the story could help fill that part of my heart infertility ripped out. Help make me feel whole again. Let me know that not being able to have children does not make me less of a woman or wife.

I know I’d watch.

What do you think? Could there be an audience for something like this? Would you watch a show about infertility?

#Mamavation Mondays (on Tuesday…)

It’s a busy week here in Vinoville so this is going to be quick and dirty and a day late. Oops…

After falling off the workout wagon a little bit, I’ve come back full force. I would get bored with doing the same thing so I’d just stop. NO MORE! I’m looking into exercise DVDs and trying to convince B to lug the treadmill down to the basement where we have a second tv…that isn’t connected to cable but ANYTHING is better than staring at a blank wall. 

My water intake has been slipping and I’ve been drinking entirely too much pop.

My upped workouts seem to have helped in the panic attack/anxiety department. Or the realization that 6 months have passed since the diagnosis and separation. Either way, I’ll take it. 

Question: What keeps you from having healthy snacks on hand when you are out of the house?

I make a seriously effort TO have healthy snacks on hand. I have GIANT purses. Giant to the point that my mom has dubbed them as Mary Poppins bag (MPB) and B refers to them as my carry on luggage. They may give me crap, but when ANYONE needs something, I almost always have it. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it! 

Having a MPB means I have lots of space to put things and lose my keys and/or phone and/or wallet including snacks. I try to keep a granola bar or two in there for snacking emergencies along with an apple. It works out pretty well for me. And those MPB haters that get hungry and ask if I have any snacks! 

Losses and Gains

I CANNOT believe May is almost over and June is right around the corner. It blows my mind that 2011 is frigging half gone already! And it got me thinking about all the things that have happened so far.. all the changes to my life, my loved ones and myself. What have you lost, gained or changed so far this year?

In the past six month lots and lots and LOTS of things have changed. I’ve lost quite a bit and I’ve gained more than I ever thought possible.

I’ve gained facebook friends, twitter followers, friendship, love and support of some pretty awesome, fabulous, kick-ass, hilarious, phenomenal Mamavation ladies who shared in my blood, sweat, tears, frustrations, laughter and silliness. These ladies have helped me see hope, gain confidence in myself and my abilities and supported me in losing around 25 lbs.

I’ve gained an infertility diagnosis and a lifelong medical issue. I’ve lost a little bit of hope with each skipped period. Every stick I’ve peed on that comes up with one line takes a smidgen more of my resolve. I’ve gained love, support and understanding from the unlikeliest of people and places. I’ve lost some respect for the people I thought should and could have loved and supported me the most.

I’ve lost my family and my sense of belonging. My parents’ separation has ripped my family apart, completely changing my family unit as I knew it. I’ve lost my sense of home. The place I grew up isn’t where my family lives, it’s where PARTS of my family live, but somehow I’ve gained different and stronger relationships with each of my parents and all of my sisters regardless of how each of us feels about the separation.

I’ve gained anxiety and panic attacks, bouts of depression and an almost debilitating fear the same thing could happen to my little family. I’m fearful of what the future holds for six (7 including B) of us. Leave and cleave has never had more meaning.

I’m easily overwhelmed around my family. I can’t handle hours upon hours of family time like I used to enjoy. That pisses me off.

I’ve become protective of how the separation looks to people on the outside. And people on the inside. I didn’t say anything to anyone about it for a long time. It was a dirty little secret. I’m just starting to gain my voice. I’m mourning the loss of my family. I’m  gaining a renewed faith and strength in my marriage and the knowledge that communication is more important that ever.

I’ve lost a few friends. I now know who I can trust and confide in and who I can’t. I’ve gained a more meaningful relationship with my in-laws. I’ve gained a bond with a SIL that never would have happened without the separation.  For that, I’m thankful.

Through all the losses and gains this past half a year, one thing stands out and means the very most to me. Despite all the emotional ups and downs, crying, complaining, bitching, whining, anxiety, hysteria, hurt and neglect  I’ve gained love, care, strength, compassion, support, understanding and a stronger bond with B. And that’s one thing I never, ever want to lose.

#Mamavation Mondays

I’ve reached a few SIGNIFICANT milestones in my weight loss journey this week.

This week I’ve worn shorts.

In public.

Multiple times.

I haven’t worn shorts outside of the comforts of my own home since 8^th grade.

ELEVEN YEARS AGO.

Yeah, it’s been THAT long.

I haven’t had the confidence in myself to wear shorts. Even when I wore them at home or mowing the lawn I was constantly fiddling with them.

I wasn’t comfortable. My legs were too short and thick. My thighs are too chunky, too jiggly. Damn you chub rub!  My calves looked too big. I do have some SERIOUSLY muscular calves. Of course Hubster has these skinny little bird legs that go on for miles. Ass. But for some reason it works. I’m jealous of his long, lean legs and he’s jealous of my muscular, defined calves. I’ll take it!

It’s been hot in the mitten this week. Like in the 80s humid, sticky, just get out of the shower and feel like you need to get back in, my hair is a GIIIIIIIIIIIIANT frizz ball kind of hot. I bet that visual put you in the mood…  Hot enough where I felt the need to wear shorts. I don’t own any; I had to borrow a pair from my sister.

I button and zipped the shorts, took a deep breath, walked into the hallway and took a look in the full length mirror.

And hawt daym if my legs didn’t look smokin’! Uh huh,  hawt daaaaaym.

My calves are still rock hard muscle, but my thighs are slimming down and toning up. Somehow my thighs being smaller makes my calves look smaller. I don’t know how it works, but it does. I’ll take it! I felt/feel so good about myself that I’m planning on rocking the shorts a lot this summer.

I can’t wear shorts at work. The little old lady I’m working with who reminds me of the Grandma from Beverly Hillbillies keeps her apartment at a tropical 85,000 degrees. My only option other than sweating to death is to wear the capris I’ve had for a few years and struggled to button and zip last year.

Friday I pulled a pair out of the drawer they had been banish to, took a deep cleansing breath and pulled them up. Pulled not shimmied into…a good sign. Button and zipped with the pants with ease! and took a few steps back to take a look in the mirror.

I was totally shocked by what I saw.

I had a flat ass. My butt is toned, firm and round. I have a nice ass. If I do say so myself…! The same pair of pants I dreaded putting on last year hang low on hips and make me look like I have a flat saggy ass.

Not okay.

There are few things I’m proud of on my body and my toned ass and calves are about it. Making these physical attributes look good is not going to work.

I need some summer clothes.

I happened to have a 30% of coupon to one of my favorite clothing stores.

And that means a shopping trip.

ALWAYS a good thing. 

This week’s Mamavation blogging prompt

In your wellness efforts what is the simplest healthy habit that makes you feel most centered after doing it?

I find myself doing a lot of deep, conscious breathing. I have issues with panic attacks. When I feel myself ramping up for one, I take deep, focused breaths. It helps, my breathing slows down, my heart rate comes down, the pounding in my ears fades away and the elephant sitting on my chest starts to go away.

Deep breaths in addition to stretching get me amped up to do just about anything. Hubster makes fun of me, but that’s how I start every morning. And a little extra oxygen before the first cup of coffee is NEVER a bad thing… 

I wrote this blog post while participating in the Mamavation Blogging Carnival for a chance to win a pair of Earth Footwear sandal

Isn’t It Ironic

*******If you’re a family member on either side, you may want to skip reading this post. It’s about to get a little, cough, personal.*******

Infertility.

This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently. I’m just going to put my thoughts all out there in a word vomit kind of way. It’s been really difficult for me to wrap my mind around. My whole thought process when it comes to this is all sorts of jumbled.

Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) and my infertility diagnosis are something new to my life. I was diagnosed the week of my 25th birthday. My understanding of PCOS is that it’s usually diagnosed during teen years.

Am I a late bloomer?

My need for a bra before ANYONE else in my grade, or the grade above mine and my ‘becoming a woman’ between 4th and 5th grade says no…

So why did it take so long for my PCOS symptoms to make an appearance?

I was thin all through high school. Part of that was due to my complete asshole boyfriend who constantly told me I was fat, needed to lose weight, needed more make-up, etc. when I was actually smoking hawt and he was full. of. shit. It was only after I moved out and relied on fast food joints to feed myself that I started to have an issue with my weight. Imagine that! 

I find it ironic that it wasn’t until I was married and B and I were talking about having a conversation about talking about maybe having kids that I my symptoms started and I was diagnosed.

I am not a saint and my late teens and early 20s were no exception. I was…uh, experienced. Not exactly promiscuous, but no saint for sure. Oh em jeez. Am I really writing this where my parents or in-laws can find it. Oh lawd!  

I knew I wasn’t ready to be a parent. I took precautions. And  getting herp-a-syphil-itis isn’t on my bucket list. 

Now, when having kids isn’t (currently, if ever) an option, I wonder if there was a point.

Was getting pregnant even a possibility then?

I’m kind of kicking myself.

Why did I try so hard NOT to get pregnant if I can’t have kids now?! Granted, that potential child wouldn’t be Brian’s child, Brian and I may have never met, fallen in love and gotten married and I would forever have a tie to someone else, but what if? 

Have a totally lost my chance?

It sure as hell feels that way.

Isn’t it ironic.

#mamavation Monday

Well, it’s been a while. Between our computer (still) having a virus and my ‘smart’ phone giving less than stellar performances, posting hasn’t really been an option.
Easter, changing clients, different work hours, family drama, Dramas? It seems like it never stops recently. Sigh… married life and wanting to take a vacation from life, blogging has been sorely needed and I’ve missed it. A lot.

Life has been getting the better of me recently. I’m feeling quite…overwhelmed. I’ve gotten to the point where I’m paralyzed by anxiety and fear. I feel like life has shit on me constantly for the past 6 months. I’m on guard all the time, waiting for the next emotional shit storm to hit.
Life is one of those ready or not kind of things that (unfortunately) has no pause button or fast forward... So, I plaster a smile on my face, try and laugh at all the right places and go through the motions. Hoping it looks like I’ve at least sort of got it together.
I’m going through the motions, but the motion(s) missing is exercise. I’m struggling to do the life essentials. Remembering to eat or stop eating… is a bit of a struggle. I’m slowly losing weight, but I’m afraid it might be muscle instead of fat. Even if it is fat, I’m not losing it in a healthy way. That’s not okay with me.
I need to find that gumption, however deep inside myself, and DO something. I think doing some kind of exercise is going to be theraputic. Physically and emotionally.
I need SOMETHING to get me out of my head. Whatever bit of my mind I still have up there is a messed up place.