Gynos and Shock and Awe

This is going to be inappropriate. Consider yourself warned. Seriously.

Recently, I went to a "lady doctor," meaning, specializing in ladies. Although, she also happened to be a lady as well. The office has a no kids policy which I understand, inconvenient thought it is. The last thing you want in the exam room with you while "that" sort of thing is going on is a chatty four year old who is want to repeat such an event over Thanksgiving dinner. "Mommy, that turkey, it's legs and that stuffing and all, it looks like..." (insert your own comment)

So, anyway, I'm sitting in the exam room, completely clothed mind you for the far too curious ilk reading this, and I'm looking around at the decor. I've seen some ridiculous stuff through the years. The worst, and my favorite, by far was the poster of a cat one doctor had posted on the ceiling. The fluffy kitten was hanging from a branch. (It's an old poster. Probably wasn't considered animal abuse when it was made.) The caption read, "hang in there." Hang in there indeed. I assume the poster was for the patient but it might have been for the doctor. Although, if the doctor is looking up at it, I doubt they are terribly efficient. I'd think their job would be a bit like a professional archer in that keeping an eye on the target is key.

This exam room was professionally appointed. It had all the usual educational trappings. For the men out there, here's what seems to be required wall decor: a warning of sexually transmittable diseases (in English and Spanish), advertisement for HPV injection (that's a recent addition) and the old stand-by drawing of a Caucasian (always) female form cut straight down the middle with an intact baby (also Caucasian) in the process of being born. The baby's face is down and smooshed which, although I realize that's how it is, I don't want to see. If God wanted me to see the look of complete and utter humiliation and desconsolation on my baby's face as it emerged from my body, face down, toward my egress flue, I'd be able to see it without the aid of the "deviled egg lady" rendering. (She's cut in half and all the color is in the middle - like a deviled egg!)

This office, however, had another little gem and, I have to be honest, I didn't really know what it was at first. I looked at it, my eyes focusing on one or two of the eight - yes, eight, remember that, ok? - pictures and I tried to put words to it. And, I did. I won't tell you what they are although none are inappropriate in any way. But, once you find out what I was looking at, all the words I assigned become far too descriptive. It would be like me saying something looked like a bowl of mashed raspberries, which is innocuous enough, then me telling you I was looking at a head wound. Yeah, gross.

After a moment, I let my eye meander over the whole of the display and ladies and gentleman, I was looking at before and after pics of rejuvenation surgery for parts of a woman's body that are and always should be shrouded in mystery. It was like a cold slap to the face. My face twisted and my neck went back much like it does when I smell soured milk. I'm not saying I don't have sympathy for the ladies pictured, I have so, so, so very much sympathy for them. (Seriously - insert a moment of silence for those gals.) But, so help me, I need rejuvenation surgery on my face from the damage my expression made while looking at those pics. I didn't want to see that! And, I shouldn't have had to see that. Seriously, that poster should be under a curtain that you are given the option to move aside of your own volition. And, I totally would have...but still! I would be to blame for the images that are now burned into my mind like a horrific daguerreotype. 

Going to the lady doctor isn't the best experience. It's not something you wake up and look forward too while sipping a cup of coffee and trying to remember the last time you shaved your legs. It's something you do because it is healthy and necessary. And, over the years, I have learned a few things about myself, my...uh...construction. The "deviled egg" lady on the wall has taught me much. If I ever see her out and about, hopping down the street on her one leg, I will shake her hand (her one hand) and thank her for her contribution to society. But, I do not appreciate what I learned at my most recent visit. I am forever damaged and my brain looks a bit like those before pics for having seen them. 

Doctors out there, the shock and awe technique is not effective in advertising a service. It is off-putting and damaging to the psyche. How about instead a sign that reads, "Sitting on a wreck? There's help on deck!" Or, "Helping your business, is our business!" But, best perhaps is the simple announcement of said service. "We offer ___." Then beside that statement, "There are pictures under the table in a padlocked box. Here is the combination. It's ok. You can look. We can help. There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's normal. Childbirth is as injurious as it is rewarding. We can't help with your child at this point, but we can help what they did to you with their freakishly huge head." And, in the box, along with the pictures, should be chocolate and antidepressants. And, whatever the Men in Black use to erase people's memory.

When Hair Attacks

I couldn't find a pic
of a red haired pig in mud.
But here's a red head with a
pig near mud. And, it's awesome.

I’m gonna take a break from my Lent posts. There’s nothing going on with me there really anyway. Still not eating processed sugar stuff outside of the unavoidables like ketchup. Yes, ketchup is unavoidable. I’m still irritated about not having it and still want it however not quite so much. Wait. That’s not true. I do want it. But, dealing with not being able not to have what I want is getting easier. Ok, now I’m laughing to myself because that’s not true either. I want it. I’m not eating it. Except on Sunday wherein I lay into it like a pig in mud

But, as I said, this won’t be about Lent. (Do you capitalize that word? I haven’t looked that up and just to keep this real, I won’t. Feel free to correct me if you would like. Totally don’t care.) This post is about (drum roll) my hair. Yeah, super important stuff.

About seven years ago I went to get a hair cut. The stylist asked how I wear it on a daily basis. I said, ponytail. The classic ponytail has always been my go-to as I’ve had hair past my shoulders since my high school freshman year. I was always involved in a sport and lived in NW Florida which is just slightly more humid that a pressure cooker. I wore my hair in a pony tail so much, I had a ring of sun bleached highlights that went around the perimeter of my head and the middle was darker.

So, back to the stylist. He asked why I wore it in a ponytail. I told him I had twin babies and it was easier. And he said, “girl, why don’t you just cut it short?” Then he pulled it back and said, “you’ve got the face. You could totally pull it off. Let’s make you a super hot, rockin’ mom.” How could I turn down that offer? Um, yes please, and throw in whatever highlights that will make my thighs not look as though I pull sleds for a living! 

Pull it off.

That has been the key phrase for a long time now. A short hair cut isn’t just something you get. It’s something you have to “pull off.” I can’t tell you how many women have admired my hair with a sort of awe and said they just couldn’t pull it off. It’s not a face tattoo, people! It’s a hair cut. What do you think is going to happen if you cut your hair short? Your face will completely morph into another, heretofore unseen, horrific pig-nosed bat/human amalgamation? (Fact: pig-

nosed bats are about the worst looking things ever. Also, bats are about the worst looking things ever. See my post My Red Roots.) It’s hair. It will grow. And grow, and grow…

There’s a ton of bonuses to short hair. Not the least of which, it takes basically no time to fix. In fact, less is more. Messy sometimes looks pretty cool which is a good thing because when you have short hair and sleep like I do (I flail like a salmon in a bear’s mouth) it looks crazy when you wake up. Like maybe you sneezed out of your scalp. 

Here’s another plus: not sure why, but there’s just something about a short hair cut that draws the attention of men. You’d think guys would be into long hair but I’m telling you, that ain’t the case. (I’m married so it’s kinda pointless but it still feels nice.) Grant it, the demographic that has noticed me more since my short cut wears sensible shoes with their high waisted jeans. It’s become such the norm that whenever I tell my husband I got hit on at the grocery story, he automatically says, “was he riding a really nice scooter?” (Then he holds the cat up in front of himself because he knows I won’t stab her.)

This is our cat, Dottie. She hates us. If I stabbed her
I'm pretty sure she'd spew acid.

But, you know what, I take those Kennedy era compliments with pride Those guys are wearing bifocals after all, so they clearly see the lines around my eyes and still think I’m “the bees knees!” Rock on silver foxes.

Oh! And, speaking of silver, coloring your hair is a breeze. You can change it up and often because you don’t have to worry about it getting damaged. You cut it so often, it stays fresh. And, you can do most color jobs yourself. So, you can appreciate the graces of those silver foxes without necessarily being one. No need to schlep to the stylist for a dye.

There is one caveat however. You will still be schlepping to the stylist and often. (Just not for color.) Short hair requires being cut in order to stay short. You can’t just stick it back in the little holes. You can count on a cut every four weeks. And, if you miss that appointment, you end up in my current situation… 

My name is Carla, and it has been eight weeks since my last hair cut. And, I look like a truffula tree.

It’s driving me cuhrazy! I don’t have a lot of hair but what I have is absolutely teaming with life.
And it falling in my eyes makes he throw my head around like a dog with ear mites. I’m going to have to wear one of those cones of shame to keep myself from pulling it out.

So, why haven’t I gotten it cut? ‘Cause the gal who cuts it, Lindsey, is 20 minutes away - with good traffic. (That’s 40 min round trip for you non-math types + cut time + my going into Trader Joe’s ‘cause it’s like, right there!) She’s the ONLY one that has cut my hair (almost) since I’ve gone the way of the pixie. (That’s what my cut is called.) I don’t trust anyone else. Yes, it looks like the same hair cut my son has but it isn’t and I found that out the hard way. When my stylist was on maternity leave, I went to another gal ONE TIME who left me looking gender confused. In her defense, that’s easy to do as I am curvy as a rolling pin.

To add to my misery, everybody seems excited that I look to be growing my hair out. I mean, really excited. These are the same people that complimented me when it was short, mind you, and I’m starting to wonder if they were lying to me about how good it looked. I’m wondering if all this time they’ve been walking next to me with an apologetic look on their face. I tell them all not to get excited. I will cut it. At some point. Although, if I were to let it grow out, this would be a good time. I’m well on my way. (My husband doesn’t care either way as long as I don’t complain about it. He is NO help.)

I have no idea when I will be able to get to the stylist never mind when she will have an open appointment. We’re pals at this point, though, so I’m sure she’d figure it out. I’ve followed her to three locations and she was kind enough to even come to my house and help me out when an at-home hair coloring kit left me looking radioactive.

I don’t think I can do it this week. But, I will try. I’ve already trimmed my bangs myself with only functional results. Also, it’s starting to get a mullet shape to it which actually makes me want to embrace it as mullets are miraculous wonders, like unicorns. Something has to happen though and soon. I will keep you all updated as I am sure you are all salivating with anticipation. Until then, here’s to silver foxes, cones of shame and this glorious display of mullet. Look upon it and be healed...

Lent - Day (a bunch!) Jacqueline Checks In

It's been some time since Jacqueline and I have posted on our progress. We've been steadily striving. Here's her latest update...

How long have I stopped smoking for now?  

I don't honestly know, I could look back to my quit day and count but I'm not going to because I don't want to be saying, " oh, that's been 3 weeks or 25 days without cigarettes". Why? Because it's a constant reminder that I've given something up.  As I said before, I don't want to think of it as giving up I want to think of it as gaining more.  Gaining more health, time, happiness...

It has been relatively easy most of the time but then I will have a day or weekend where it's all I can think about!  It feels like torture and one day last week I searched through every handbag I own hoping to find an old pack I had forgotten about!  Seriously! That was the worst day so far.  I didn't find any and I was half disappointed and half glad.  Since stopping I have realized I have a major split personality!  I argue with myself a lot!! 

I'm still reading and researching everything I can find on addictions and habits and it definitely helps refocus my attention.  I have also started praying again. For a long time I didn't and I would just talk to my dad who passed when I was 12 years old.  Partly because I thought he would be more likely to listen to me and put up with my whining and partly because I thought God had more to worry about than whether I choked myself, what with famine and war etc... Wee Jacqueline from Scotland might not get the same level of attention. But, you know what? I was wrong.  He does listen because when I pray I feel better and stronger.  I'm not saying I'll be a regular at Sunday mass anytime soon but who knows, I thought I'd be a forever smoker too.

As for the benefits of being a non smoker they are coming thick and fast.  I've had two compliments this week on my complexion! Only two you say well up until now I had none EVER so I'm happy with that.  I can definitely taste better for sure and smell - that has its downsides right enough as I'm now noticing a decidedly funky odor in my car!  I think it's the dogs (hopefully it's the dogs). My lungs have not purged since the first few days of quitting but I'm patient, it will happen, I have been assured, so yeah for when that happens!! I have more energy, I don't feel so sloth-like anymore. Eat that, Mr. Grady! (Art teacher who called me a monument of sloth for 4 years at school. That still smarts to this day.)
My advice to any smoker reading this - quit now!!!! Lay down the excuses because that is what they are: excuses.  There are no good reasons to continue with this awful habit.  There will never be the right day or the best day as you will always find another "reason" to delay.  I don't want to regret anything I have done in my life. If anything I'll regret an opportunity missed.

In the words of Starskey or was it Hutch?  Do it, do it now! I did and it's awesome.  I'm awesome and so are you! 

Lent - Day 12 Me and Conscious Uncoupling

Ok, ok, already! Here's my update. I've been loathe to do it because in comparison to my compadre who is giving up a 22 year habit of smoking, giving up sugar is rather painless. Rather painless. Not completely.

How I thought I'd look after giving up sugar
minus standing on the back of a baby angel.
Unless that just came with it, then I'd be
all for it.

I was full on addicted to sugar. I see that now. I've added in agave for coffee, but that's it. My body has finally given up the worst of the physical effects. I'm no longer dizzy. But, I'm still hungry quite a bit.

I was hoping to see a massive difference in my skin, maybe an aura not unlike the Virgin of Guadalupe. (Patron Saint of Mexico and quite the local vendor of tacos.) No such luck. I was also hoping to have an increase in energy, maybe gain a few magical powers. But, as with the aura, it's not happening. 

 Mentally, I'm just irritated. It irritates me to see cookies, chocolates, and flavored yogurt lying around. (Yes, I have yogurt just lying around. Doesn't everyone?) I did mess up and eat a massive bowl of Jell-O. For some reason, I didn't think of it as a dessert. It's sort of an in between thing as much categorically as it is in consistency. Anything you can have while you are sick with a stomach flu can't be considered a dessert out right. Right? Oh, I also had a massive bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats - 3 times. Not sure how I justified that with my "conscious uncoupling" with sugar. (Conscious uncoupling was the term a celebrity couple used when they split. As opposed to unconscious coupling which may have been how they got to together in the first place. It's a ridiculous and pretentious phrase and I have been looking for a way to use it. And, so I have. That's another off the bucket list.) But, I justify eating all that sugar and fiber, I did. Rest assured, I regretted all three bowls the next day. (Yes, I ate 3 bowl in one day - don't judge me) 

I'm not even sure where the bar
should be here. It's all so, so
seductive. Darn you, FAGE
and your naked goodness!!!!

Also, I ate some Fage yogurt that has the little thing of fruit attached to it. I was almost done when I looked at the ingredients of the fruit: cherries, sugar. Great. Is there no reprieve? I feel weird every time I open the fridge and see it. Kinda like on Survivor, when one Survivor decides to walk around naked - there's always one - and every other clothed being has to talk to them so they keep insanely intense eye contact for fear they will look at the naked person's blurred out places. It's awkward. That's how I feel with the Fage. I can't look at it. I want to. It's there, begging me to look. I wish I could figure out a way to blur it out or put a black "concerned" bar over it. That's what my son called it once. He meant "censored." But, "concerned" really works better most of the time.

Until the next check in...

Lent - Day 10

If you're just now joining the show, my friend Jacqueline has been documenting her efforts to stop smoking. This is her latest update. She's Scottish. That said, you are obligated to read this out loud in the appropriate accent.

Once upon a time, doctors actually prescribed smoking,
especially to women, to help with mood swings.

Still going strong 

So, I haven't had a slip up since last Monday. Woohoo!! I am very proud of myself and my heart swells with pride knowing I have such wonderful family and friends supporting me every single day.  I don't feel like I am climbing this mountain on my own and for that I am extremely grateful.  I won't lie it hasn't all been plain sailing but the pros have definitely outweighed the cons.

Since starting NRT (smoking patch) I have been able to deal with my mental addiction while the physical addiction is being fed minus the carbon monoxide, tar and other nasties that cigarettes have hiding in them.

I get cravings maybe 5-6 times a day, and some are worse than others, but the one thing they have in common is - they don't last!  I haven't timed them but I'd say no more than a minute or two and it has passed.  I can get a little frustrated sometimes and my fuse is slightly shorter but I'm aware of this and have been working on counting backwards from 10!  Does it work? Sometimes yes, sometimes no, but isn't that the same regardless if you smoke or not?   

There are definitely some side effects with the patches that can be unpleasant. For instance, my arm can get quite sore at the site, itchy and it can feel like it burns a little too but as the days go by these are less frequent.  In the beginning it felt like this the whole time I was wearing it but not now.  

I have also been sleeping with it on and this has caused some nightmares as well as weirdly vivid dreams that leave me feeling uneasy when I awake!  One in particular left me so upset that when I got up out of bed I couldn't get it out of my head. I kept replaying it over and over until finally, I went to the bathroom and  threw up!  Not great but it actually turned out to be exactly what I needed because I knew when I got up that morning that if I ever saw another cigarette in my life again it would be too soon! Seriously it was awful, I will spare you the details!

The above sounds like I'm torturing myself but honestly I haven't felt better!

What keeps me positive and pushing forward are the remarkable changes that are happening already.  Little things to anyone reading this but to me huge, huge!  For one, I can breathe better than I have in a long time.  I can take a deep breath without the occasional sharp pain searing through my chest like a knife.  I have a sense of smell, not as well as I

I don't know why people make such a big deal about
smoking. This 40 year old woman has been smoking
forever and is just fine!

should have but last week it was non existent.  I have energy and lots of it!  Now, don't get me wrong, I exercised hard everyday whilst smoking (not at the same time, obviously) but, by 2pm, I was done! Literally I would need a nap and if I didn't get one then I would be irritable.  I felt like an old granny (sorry mum). 

The big one for me though was "the fear" every time I lit a cigarette. I would worry what was happening inside, was I dying already? Had I triggered one of the many diseases this addiction can cause?  Would this cigarette be the one to give me a stroke, a heart attack maybe?  That fear is beginning to fade although I am aware I still live in that high risk category and will for a while, yet I know I am moving further from it and not closer to it.  That is good enough for me, for now. Oh and my feet are warm! They had been cold for so long.  :)

One of the things I believe has been essential to my current success is education.  I thought I knew everything there was to know about my addiction but as it happens I didn't.  I researched so many sites and read everything I could feast my eyes on. Now that I have educated myself into what is going on in my brain, body and psyche, I feel so much stronger and able to handle whatever is thrown at me. My confidence is growing by the day it's amazing, empowering and liberating.

So, although I am still in the woods I am not blinded by the trees anymore.  I can see daylight ahead and I am charging forward, staying positive and enjoying the freedom I have given myself.  If I smile on the outside I can't help but feel it on the inside so I will keep doing what I'm doing and rejoice in my victories one hour, one craving, one day at a time.

Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss

Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss!

Schools and libraries around the world will be celebrating Dr. Seuss's birthday today. (And, a few writer/moms.) He's not only one of America’s most beloved writers but also one of its most well known. The mere name conjures up words and illustrations that are uniquely his. But, how well do you know the man behind the work? How well do you know Theodor Seuss Geisel?

1. His father and grandfather were German immigrants and successful brewmasters.

2. As a Scout, he sold so many War Bonds that he was to receive a Presidential award. However, he never received his medal from President Roosevelt as, in the ceremony, they were one medal short. 

3. He was fired from his first writing job as the editor-in-chief of Dartmouth University humor magazine when he and his friends were found in violation of prohibition laws. He continued to write for the magazine using several pseudonyms. One of which was T. Seuss.

4. He used several pseudonyms throughout his career including Theo LeSieg (Geisel backwards) and Rosetta Stone.

5. Seuss was his mother’s maiden. The correct pronunciation is actually “Zoice.”

6. He lied to his father and told him that he had a scholarship to Oxford. Before he could tell him the truth, that his application had actually been denied, his father told the local paper and the inaccuracy was printed the next day. Geisel went on to Oxford anyway.

7. He worked for an ad agency for fifteen years and became famous for his adverts for a pesticide. He claimed he wrote children’s literature because the contract he had with the ad agency forbade him to write just about everything else.

8. He and his first wife Helen were unable to have children. Tired of hearing other parents brag about their kids, Ted, as he was known to his family, created then heartily bragged on a fictional one of his own: Chrysanthemum Pearl. Her name was even included on their Christmas cards. His second book, The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins, is dedicated to Chrysanthemum. 

9. Helen was also a children’s author and editor. After a series of illnesses, she committed suicide in 1967, the same year The Cat in the Hat was published. 

10. His first published book, And To Think I Saw It On Mulberry Street, was refused by various publishers about thirty times. Geisel was about to throw the book away on the street when he ran into an old college friend that made its publication possible.

11. He drew propaganda cartoons for the Army. 

12. All totaled, Dr. Seuss wrote and illustrated forty one books. Several more are attributed to him posthumously from notes he kept.

13. One of his most popular books was written after he was given a list of what were considered the 348 most important words first-graders should know and challenged to write a book using only those words. He went a step further, shortened the list, and using only 236 of the words, wrote one of the best selling children’s books of all time, The Cat in the Hat.

14. Green Eggs and Ham was also written on a dare. But instead of 236 words, he was to use only 50.

15. Ted remarried and became a father to two step children, the oldest of which is the sculptor of the sculpture garden dedicated to him in his home town of Springfield, MA.

16. He created the word, “nerd,” in his book If I Had a

Zoo.

17. Dr. Seuss NEVER won an award for book writing. He has been awarded Caldecotts for illustration, a Peabody for journalism and a Pulitzer as well as several others for contributions to children’s literature, also two Oscars and Emmys. But, as of today, not one for his actual writing of children’s book.

18. To date, more than 600 million books by Ted Geisel have been sold and translated into more than 20 languages.

19. He abhorred public speaking, it terrified him. He was even loathe to do interviews.

20. In the weeks before his death, he was asked what advice he would give to the children of America. It was, “we can…and we’ve got to…do better than this.”

21. The last line in the last book he ever wrote, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!, reads: “You’re off to great places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So… get on your way!”