Thanks!

...for all of the "get well" wishes. They must have worked, because I feel 100% better now. Just in time for my PMS to kick in.

New Year's was a nice, low-key event. My brother, SIL, her sister and husband, and Aimee were over and we ate good food, watched "Saw II" (not my idea-but I was out-voted) and played a rousing round of "Scene It" in which we were divided up into 3 teams of 2 and I was a team of 1. Why? Because I am The Shit at trivia games. So, of course I beat everyone for the win. Modest, aren't I? Hey, I have zero athletic ability, so I have do something to satisfy my overly-competitive nature.

Speaking of competitions, my beloved Sooners lost to Boise State by 1 point in OT at the Fiesta Bowl. It was one of the greatest football games I have ever watched. Boise State fought hard and they deserved their win-much as I am loathe to admit. It was well worth staying up after midnight for.

I suppose this really will be my last entry until my return from vacation on the 15th. I have so much to do this week, and no time to do it. I have lots to discuss, but you'll just have to be patient for a little while longer.

I hope you all had a safe, and Happy New Year!

Stomach Flu

It's the pits!

This is not the way I wanted to end Christmas and start my New Year. Hopefully, the Dr. will be able to prescribe something, anything, to ease my suffering when I have my appointment this afternoon.

Cheese With My Whine?

I have a sinus/upper respiratory infection AGAIN. This is what? The 3rd or 4th time this year? Seriously, it's getting old.

Oh, you know me!! Nothing more I love than walking around feeling like an elephant is sitting on my face and chest, using my rescue inhalor 2 or 3 times a day, rubbing my nose raw from constantly blowing it. It's a joy!

Of course, being the stubborn cow that I am, I wait too long to go to the doctor, so by the time I get some decent medicine in me, the infection is much worse than what it would've been had, I seen a doctor sooner. So, I've scheduled an appointment for tomorrow. Although, we're about to get a blast of winter weather with snow and freezing rain, and people here tend to panic in any kind of inclimate weather, so I'm hoping my Dr. doesn't close his office before I can get my "feel good" fix.

How about you? Any of you out there dealing with "the crud"? Or winter weather? Both?

It's Still Saturday

So I've made the deadline for NaBloPoMo. I have a terrible sinus headache, and am going back to bed. See you tomorrow!

I Hate My Ute

Last night, while typing up my "Borat" post, I could feel the first stirrings of cramps. No big deal, it's about that time of month, I thought. Well, within 5 minutes, I was lying on my bathroom floor racked with the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life.

I was screaming, crying, and begging to die. I'm being serious, it was that horrible. It felt like I was being clawed apart from the inside, and I would have done anything to make it stop. I couldn't move, and my tears were making it difficult to breathe. My poor husband just sat in the floor next to me, helpless, unable to help his wife. I managed to choke down a Loritab I had leftover in the cabinet, and counted down (when I wasn't fighting to stay conscious) the time until it kicked in. After an hour of mind-numbingly excruciating torture, the pain subsided long enough for me to crawl to bed. I knew going to the ER wouldn't do anything for me, they'd just give me painkillers and send me on my way-not worth the pain to get out of the house for, not to mention the hospital bill.

So today, still in a manageable amount of pain, I made my way to the Doctor. A lot of good that did me. All I got was a dildo-wand stuck up my bits to be told there was fluid behind my uterus, which could either be from a ruptured cyst (though he could find no evidence of one on my ovaries) or from my endo. Gee, hmmm...YOU THINK?!?!?! I've only been to 4 doctors in the past 5 years for this shit!! No one can seem to help me. Birth control doesn't work past the first month or two, and only succeeds in making me act like a crazy woman. This doctor (a specialist, might I add) won't do a laperoscopy on me until I lose at least 20 lbs., because he's afraid of something happening during surgery. I suppose I can thank the litigious public for that one. All doctors are afraid of actually treating their patients, for fear of being sued. So much for the Hippocratic oath, huh?

Anyway, I was left to drive home in tears, where I subsequently popped another Loritab, along with a Xanax, and crawled back to bed, and into oblivion for the next 8 hours. Hopefully, I can get some sleep tonight, I have be up earlier than usual to hit the polls when they open tomorrow.

So, sorry for not having my usual "Weekly feature" posts up, I'll take care of those tomorrow.

Fat Camp aka My Longest Post to Date

I've struggled with self-esteem issues my entire life. I've never thought I was pretty enough, smart enough, or good enough to deserve anything. Which is completely ridiculous, I know. I know logically that I have a pretty face (not beautiful, mind you, just pretty), I'm an intelligent person (well....excluding math, I suck at math), and everyone deserves happiness - but try telling that to the emotional part of my brain.

The fact that I am obese (and I cringe as I type that word, but it's true) is a problem of my own making. I know that sitting on my ass, stuffing my face full of carbs, and turning to food for comfort have caused me to self-destruct health-wise. In the 7.5 years of TTC and Infertility struggles, I have gained 80-85 lbs. I gained about 15 lbs. before that during the stress of planning my wedding, and almost didn't fit into my dress. So, we're talking about 95-100 lbs of weight gain in 10 yrs. I've always been kind of chubby, but never more than 10-15 lbs overweight. Until now. Now, I watch "The Biggest Loser" and realize that I am just as fat as the people they recruit for that show. It's horribly embarrassing and devastating to realize how far I've let myself go.

I can pinpoint the exact moment that my love/hate relationship with food began. It was the day my beloved grandfather died. We were living with my grandparents in Kentucky while my mom was undergoing chemo and radiation for cervical and ovarian cancer (she'd had uterine cancer just 3 years prior, and had to have a hysterectomy at age 28), back in Texas, where we lived at the time. My parents had divorced the summer before, and rather than hang around and support his children, my dad decided to up and move to Las Vegas and not leave a forwarding address, but a ton of bills behind. This caused us to become homeless, which only added to my mother's burdens. Rather than continuing to leave her children with friends to keep us off the streets, she took us back home to her parents. Needless to say, by the time the day my grandfather died (albeit peacefully in his sleep) rolled around, my brother and I were under far more stress than any 11 and 8 yr old children should be.

When people inevitably started to bring food to the house, my brother and I tried to mask our pain by consuming an entire bucket of chicken, a package of rolls, and a large bowl of pudding in one sitting. It was the start of a cycle that continues to this day. I know the "experts" tell you that when you are feeling emotional and are tempted to eat, to do something active, like walking, instead. Yeah, well, sometimes it's just easier and feels better to sit on the couch and eat a cup of chocolate pudding.

There was, however, a brief time between the ages of 18-20 where I was thin, well, thinner than I ever was before, anyway. I held down two jobs that required quite a bit of physical activity, and the pounds just started to fall off of me. For the first time in my life, I was HOT. The evidence of which was obvious in the way men looked at and flirted with me. I've never had so much attention paid to me by the opposite sex before! Let me tell you, it can be quite intoxicating and very, very powerful. Especially for a girl who couldn't get a date in high school. Of course, I was already with Jake at the time (we've been together since just before I was 18), so he was the only one reaping the benefits of having a hot chick. The funny thing is, I wasn't thin by society's standards. I wore a size 10-12, but with my build, it makes me look thin. I've always been big busted, and had a nice derriere, so if you eliminate most of my belly fat, I look great. I was holding my head high, full of confidence and happiness. Even when the weight first started to creep back on, it never bothered me. Jake loved me and found me attractive (and still does, btw), and that's all that mattered. I was even deluded enough to not "see" how truly overweight I had become. My mind would play the trick of believing that I was thinner than what I actually was. The only time that facade slipped, was if I saw a photo of myself. Then, I couldn't deny the evidence any longer. In fact, I've held on to this delusion until recently. While viewing the season premiere of TBL with Jake, I watched as one by one, the contestants were weighed in, wearing nothing but some spandex shorts and sports bra (for the women)-oh the horror! I saw their numbers come up, and realized, "Oh my God. They weigh as much as I do!" To confirm my growing horror at the realization of the enormity of what I had done to myself, I asked Jake to tell me, honestly (please, and no, I won't be mad), "Do I look like that?". His confirmation was like a bucket of cold water poured over my head, waking me up to the fact that I weigh as much as a grown man who plays football.

You would think that I would immediately start dieting and exercising, changing my life for the better, but no. Food and I, we're in a co-dependent relationship. Food is like the boyfriend who beats me up, but I love him anyway, and keep crawling back. Food is my lover, my best friend. Food comforts me, lifts me up, when life gets me down. Food has been there for me in my time of need. It brings back memories of family gatherings, and romantic evenings. It sustains me, and I don't mean in a "you need food to live" sense.

I want to break up with food, to no longer be its slave, to be in love with it, but I don't know how. I'm an atheist, so OA and "giving it up to a higher power" won't work; I'm simultaneously horrified and repulsed at the thought of joining WW or JC and doing the weigh-ins and meetings, Curves isn't my style, and I don't have the money to spend on Nutri-system or South Beach, or any of the other diet plans out there. I have to learn to do it on my own, but where do I begin? I don't care about what the scale says, I want to be healthy and happy. Just to be a size 12-14, rather than a 18-20 would be wonderful! To walk up a flight of stairs without losing my breath, to relieve the pain in my knees, my back, and the stress on my heart and lungs, would fill me with joy and a sense of pride. To finally hold my head up, to look people in the eye, and not worry that they're snickering behind my back about what a "fatty fatster" I am, is a dream I can't wait to turn into reality. I've got to find a way to do it, and sooner rather than later is preferable, in fact, it's become necesssary. If I don't want to devlop diabetes, or dig myself an early grave, I have to change - NOW.

Monday Miscellaneous

*Thursday morning, I threw my neck out by, get this, brushing my teeth. I kid you not. Only I am capable of achieving this level of pathetic-ness. I still had to come into work and open the office, but only because it was too late to call my backup (Aimee). I literally could not move my neck, and was sitting as stiffly as possible. Luckily, my Chiropractor of 15 years was able to get me going again. I *heart* my Chiropractor-so much so, his daughter was one of my flower girls at my wedding.

*Friday night and most of Saturday were spent in bed, snuggling and watching t.v. with Jake, who called in sick to his night job (he really *was* sick, kind of). It was wonderful! There's nothing quite like lying around, under your comfy feather duvet, watching crap t.v. I'm trying to enjoy our alone time, because once we have our child, those times are ovah. At least, for 18 years or so.

*Saturday afternoon (when we finally managed to drag ourselves out of bed) we went to see School for Scoundrels, the new Billy Bob Thornton/Jon Heder movie. I wanted to see this because I love Billy Bob. Sure, he plays the same cynical asshole in all his movies, but I *love* that cynical asshole. I can even overlook his weird phobia against antiques, and that whole wearing-of-the-blood-in-the-necklace-thing when he was married to Angelina. The movie itself was ok, I'd give it a "B"-definitely worth the matinee price, but I wouldn't pay full price. Funny, but not hilarious.

*Great new download for the iPod: "Sexy Love" by Ne-Yo

*Great read: Secret Confessions of the Applewood PTA by Ellen Meister. Hilarious, touching, quick read. Check it out today!

*Today's high in Oklahoma City: 91 . Now tell me there isn't global warming!!

Later, Taters!!

One of the ONLY Positive Things About Infertility and Childlessness Is:

Getting to sleep in and lie (lay?) around all weekend long. Even though I'd trade that privilege in a heartbeat to have a child of my own, I'm sure looking forward to it this weekend.

Seriously, I'm exhausted; and I think I'm coming down with a cold. Yuck.

Is it Friday yet?