CBD 3: Of Pain and Dependence

In fifteen days, I have the surgery to fix my left leg.  As the days start to dwindle I become more and more frightened.  I'm not scared that something could go wrong, although, that is a concern.  I'm also not worried about dying, although, that too is a very big concern.  I'm scared of being in too much pain.  I don't like being in pain.

Christmas Eve, I was talking with my friends, Rachel and Josh, about my concerns with pain.  Josh likened it to a really bad sunburn.  You're basically in intense pain for a few days then it just stings if you rub it the wrong way or knock into something.  As he was saying this I tried to remember a time when I'd gotten a really bad sunburn and couldn't remember it.  Apparently, my deep thought came across as a blank stare which it probably was.  I had to admit that while I'd had slight sunburns--the type that sting for a few hours and then your skins starts peeling--I'd never had a really bad red-lobster-type sunburn.  Josh teased me about my skin not being so fair but it wasn't that he's whiter than me.  I have such a fear of having a really bad sunburn, of being in pain, that I practically take a bath in SPF 50+ before I go out in the sun.  

This led me to a realization.  I've always avoided/taken precaution against being in pain and now I'm headed straight for the lions den of pain.  I'm allowing a doctor to break my leg and put pins into it to keep it steady.  I'm going to stay in some kind of pain for the next six months.  The idea of being in pain with no escape scares me more than dying.       

On top of that, I'm going to be dependent on others.  I haven't been dependent on others since I was a child.  Now, I'll need someone to help me cook, clean, get dressed, and who knows what else.  I know that my family and friends are happy to help and I am grateful to have them. However, it's like walking a tight rope.  When do you stop being the friend and start being the burden?  I don't want my friendships to change and I fear that they will and that it won't be good.  

There's also being seen as less than superhuman.  Don't misunderstand me, I don't mean that I see myself as some sort of Wonder Woman but I do see myself as someone that is always available, can be counted on to help, and is the strong one.  I'm the strong person that can nearly always be depended on and now I'll be the weak person who will be depending on others.

I keep thinking that maybe I should just skip the surgery, live with the pain, give up the dream of a 5K, and find other ways to get the exercise I need.  Some days I even convince myself of this and I do all kinds of stuff.  Then the next day --sometimes, later that night-- I end up in so much pain I'm reminded of why I need the surgery. 

But which pain is worse?  The pain I'm in now or the pain I'll be in because of the surgery? 

Is there anyone out there who has had to wear a leg brace halo?  Can someone tell me how much pain I'm in for?  

First Speech on Beauty

A month ago, I gave my first speech on body love.  Actually, I was asked to talk about being an empowered woman.  I won't lie, I was flattered to be thought of as a women of empowerment especially since as of late I feel like a woman just trying to survive the day.  I'm not where I imagined myself being two years after getting my Master's degree and my finances are still iffy at times.

So since, I didn't feel very empowered I wasn't sure what to really talk about.  Also, my focus has moved from empowerment verses oppression to body image.  I've been reading a lot on society's perception of fat and beauty, being healthy at any size, and body acceptance/love.  After a lot of procrastination and discussion with a co-worker I decided to go ahead and talk about body love/positive.

The whole time I was doing my outline I kept thinking that I was going in the wrong direction, that this wasn't what they wanted to hear.  These ladies are in college looking to professional women for guidance on how to become empowered in their careers and here I was giving them advice on how to feel beautiful.  However, I kept going because my message was the only one I had to give.

I titled my speech Empowerment through Beauty except I never really felt like I got to the empowerment through beauty part.  I mainly focused on how to change your perceptions of beauty by surrounding your self with images that more closely match what you look like, pushing yourself to accept compliments, urging friends to not talk about themselves or others negatively, and not to talk badly about yourself.

After I gave my speech, I was relieved to have gotten applause instead of food thrown at me.  And the best part happen when everyone started to disperse.  Several women came up to me to compliment and thank me!

So, the lesson here is to go with your gut, heart, feeling, whatever.  I went with my gut, shared a message that I felt was important even though I mind said it was wrong. 

The Greatness of Christmas

Today, I'm taking the time to talk about why Christmas is so damn important to me.  I think too often during this time of year we get bogged down by the stresses of the holiday and we tend to complain instead of really celebrating and embracing the joy that is Christmas.  It seems to have become the fashion to complain about the consumerism of the holiday and how we're forgetting that it's Jesus's birthday, blah blah blah.  And we do this complaining while standing in line in department stores buying presents.

The thing is, yes, there is a bit of consumerism to the holiday but that consumerism is just as important as sitting around reading and/or listening to the story of the birth of Jesus.  If it wasn't well then there wouldn't be a Black Friday, haha.  giving.  Admit it, most of the gifts you give aren't given out of obligation but because it is a tangible way of showing your family and friends how much you love, care, and appreciate them.  We give gifts to see the smile on a face and a twinkle in the eye.  We give gifts because it warms our hearts.  Seriously though, the consumerism isn't about receiving it's about

Growing up Christmas was the holiday in our house.  My dad loved Christmas.  He started itching to get the tree and all the decorations up on Thanksgiving.  He was usually only able to restrain himself until December 1.  Then it was on.  As the tree went up, the walls of the house started to reflect the colors green, red, gold, and silver, the lights and ornaments got hung and all the little knick-knacks got unwrapped and displayed. The sounds of Christmas music or Christmas movies filled the air while the smell of cookies filled our nostrils and permeated our clothes.

Even when there was very little under our tree we still had a tree with lights and ornaments.  We had the sounds and scents of Christmas.  We had each other.

After, my brother and I grew up and moved out to start our adult lives, my dad still insisted on getting the decorations up before we got home.  There was no such thing as a small Christmas to him.

It's been seven years since he died and we still keep Christmas going where ever we are.  Sometimes, it's hard because so many people want to complain instead of celebrate.  They get annoyed by the Christmas music blaring from my computer or car speakers.  People don't seem to understand how hard it is for me to celebrate when I'm celebrating for not only me but for him, too.   

I miss driving with my dad through the rich neighborhoods, point out the houses with the nicest lights and decorations.  I miss complaining about my dad playing his favorite Christmas album--Elvis Presley-- over and over.  I really hated that damn album but I would give anything to be in our old house helping my dad string the tree lights and listening to Elvis crooning, "I'll be home for Christmas".   
 

I guess what I'm trying to say is, stop complaining about the madness of it all and just enjoy it!  Focus on the good things like Jesus (if you're spiritual), Christmas trees, music, decorations, family, friends, and love.  Embrace this season because it only happens once a year and each year can be very different from the year before.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year.    

For you daddy...

 
  

10 Random Facts

In response to my favorite Blogger The Militant Baker's blog, 10 Random Facts about Jess the Militant Baker, I'm posting my own 10 Random Facts blog.  By the way if you've never read her blog she is fucking awesome.  She's become my inspiration and main hero.  Enough fangirling.

1. I have a thing about missing socks.  I hate when I lose a sock.  I will spend hours, days, weeks, months, and even years looking for a missing sock.  I'm not saying I don't do anything else but I will take time out of nearly day looking for a missing sock.  I chalk this up to one of my obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) issues.  
   
2. I love Phillip Seymour Hoffman.  I think he's sexy, not what society says is sexy but what is truly sexy.  He's an amazing actor.  He makes you feel for whatever character he's playing.  Don't believe me?  Watch Boogie Nights, specifically they scene when he tells the object of his affection that he's in with em.  If you've ever loved someone who has never loved you, you'll understand.  That shit is real.  He has a great speaking voice, beautiful eyes, and a nice smile.  If he had his arms around me I'd feel, safe and warm, and loved.  Still think I'm nuts?  Check out Empire Falls, you'll want to go to Martha's Vineyard after that.
   
3. I can still wear the blue sweater I got when I was in the 6th grade.  I don't dare wear it outside the house but it's warm and soft and has held up fabulously considering how old it is.  Heck, I'm wearing it right now.
4. I love grilled cheese sandwiches.  I cannot get enough of them.  If they're on a children's menu at a restaurant it takes all my strength to not order one.  There's nothing better.
   
5. I do not like tomatoes except for tomato soup and that has to be a certain type.  Tomatoes are one of those foods that I've never grown out of disliking.  There's something about their texture and tastes I just don't like.  And before people start saying,  well, what about spaghetti sauce and ketchup I don't really like spaghetti sauce or ketchup.  Also, could we please stop using that argument because it's ridiculous.  I mean so much is done to the tomato during the cooking process that it doesn't taste much like a tomato once you're done.  So far, the only way I will consume a tomato is if it's creamy tomato soup, no chunks of tomato please.
6. With the exception of tomatoes most of the foods I dislike go back to an event that has left me with a bad memory.  Best example, I hate green beans.  My first grade teacher decided that she was going to make all of us try green beans.  I told her I'd tried them and didn't like them but that wasn't good enough for her.  She made me eat a fork full in front of her.  I swallowed and promptly vomited them right back up.  They tasted that bad.  Side note, the teacher was torn a new one by my parents for forcing me to eat them after I'd said I'd tried them and didn't like them.
7. I will nearly always pick salty over sweet when offered snacks.  I've never been one for cake, ice cream or candy.  Don't get me wrong, I like sweets but I love potato chips and french fries.
8. Sometimes, I don't like to be touched.  This really has to do with my OCD.  Most of the time I have it under control and it doesn't bother me but sometimes I'm so uncomfortable.  It takes everything in me to keep from recoiling when a person wants to shake my hand, pat my shoulder or hug.  I have to prepare/remind myself before I go into huge social settings that people will want to touch.  Truly, it's not them it's me and it's not a fear of germs.  It's a fear of otherness, of an unfamiliarity.  I pretty much hate when I'm in this mood.
9. I can eat an entire large box of Captain Crunch Berry cereal in one day.  I always say I'm just going to have one bowl then I eat the whole damned box.  It's like crack which is the reason I don't buy the stuff. 
   
10. Mr. Spock is my favorite character from Star Trek (the original not the reboot series).  I identify with him the most.  He's half Vulcan and half human.  I'm half Mexican American and half white.  We are both part of an otherness that no one but we understand.  I'm still learning from Mr. Spock.  I love him.         
    

 

Keeping Promises

I got excited today when I found a winter belt I'd forgotten I'd purchased back in March when it was clearance priced.  Isn't that always an exciting moment?  When you rediscover something you forgot all about?  It makes you want to change your outfit immediately just to wear whatever it is you just found.  Or maybe it's just me...

I grew up poor.  So, there were never moments when I found forgotten treasures in my closest or drawers.  Usually, I was digging around for something I hadn't worn so often that it seemed I only had that one shirt, pair of pants, skirt, socks.  Every summer my mother would promise me a new wardrobe filled with lots of blouses, pants, skirts and shoes for when school started in the fall.  And every fall I'd go back to school with maybe one or two new outfits and two pairs of shoes.  It wasn't my parents' faults.  When it came between food and electric and tons of fancy clothes, well food and electric won out.  Usually, I was lucky to get two new outfits and two pairs of shoes. 

I promised myself that when I grew up I'd make enough money to not only pay my bills but to also afford all the clothes and shoes I wanted.  I do not make millions of dollars and my clothes and shoes are not name brand--not that Prada or Gucci makes anything that fits me except maybe their shoes--but I do have nice stuff.  I also invest in a lot accessories, make-up, and my hair.

I'm not trying to brag or make anyone feel bad or jealous.  Really, I'm justifying myself.  I get teased and sometimes criticized for shopping.  For some reason people thing that my shopping is an addiction and a waste of time and money but for me it's fulfilling a promise I made to myself.  And there is nothing wrong with that. 

If you have a promise you've made to yourself then go for it.  As long as you're taking care of your responsibilities then I say go for it. 

CBD #2: An Apology Letter to my Left Leg

Dear Left Leg,

I'm sorry I'm going to have surgery on you.  I'm sorry for the pain I'm going to allow you to be in.  I'm sorry that you'll be broken and reset in order to make you longer.  I'm sorry that you'll have to be encased in a metal cage with thin rods sticking into your flesh down to the bone for six months. 

I'm sorry for the scares that you will have after the leg brace is gone.  I promise I will apply as much Neosporin and/or Mederma I can put on you.  And if that doesn't work to erase the scares or, at least, make them almost invisible I will wear pants, jeans, tights or panty-hose to hide your scares.  For that I am sorry too.  I'm sorry you won't feel the sun or the cool wind on your bare skin but through cotton, denim or nylon.  But you will always be beautiful to me and maybe one day neither of us will be self-conscious of our scares.   

I'm sorry that I wasn't happy with your length.  That I wished you to be as long as my right.  And I want you to know that even being shorter you've done an admirable job of taking me to the places I've needed to go and holding me up when I needed to stand. 

I'm sorry I've hated you at times.  I don't hate you now.  I wish I'd never hated you.  This operation isn't because I hate you it's because I love you and I want us to both be around for a long while.  You're hurting left foot and when I try to adjust my step to stop hurting left foot I end up hurting you.

We haven't been happy lately.  We've been moving like an old person in a haze of Vicodin.  It's not good for us.  I want us to stand, walk, and run.  I want us to do a Color Run.  We can only do that if I have this operation on you. 

Please forgive me and understand.  I'm doing this for both of us.  Even after the operation you will always be my shorter leg.  You will always be a part of me.  I love you left leg.

Love always and forever,

A+

Fashion for Plus-Sized Kids

 I saw this story in my Yahoo news feed this morning:  The Fashion Fairy Godmother Determined to Help Plus-Size Kids

This quote stuck out to me the most:  

"It’s not just about getting a bigger size, and it’s not about taking plus-size little girls into women’s stores just to find clothes to fit them,” she says. "I saw that all the time, and it struck me how they never got to look like little girls,” says Smith. “It wasn’t fair.”

I remember all too well having to go into sections of departments stores made for older women and wearing clothes that weren't age appropriate but fit my body.  I felt uncomfortable, self-conscious, and ugly.  I wanted to be hip and popular but instead I was funny looking and a loser.  While the other girls pranced round in well fitting jeans and cute tops, I wore baggy pants with an elastic waist band and a too large blouse in some flower pattern. 

I know some will say that these kids just need to be put on a diets and exercise programs and will blame their parents for not caring enough about their kids' health.  But the reality is, it's not that simple.  There are a lot of factors involved including socio-economics and genetics.  Speaking as a person who grew up poor and fat, my parents tried their best to feed us properly but sometimes it was just about feeding us.  As far as exercise, I ran around outside and played with my brother and our friends all the time.  We had triathlons--running, going across the monkey bars and riding bikes around the neighborhood as fast as we could.  I was just a fat kid and fat kids shouldn't be punished for not fitting into what the media and society says is correct. 

This woman understands this and is helping children the way children should be helped.  She not trying to force them into self-destructive behavior that will lead to low self-esteem and eating disorders.  So, fucking KUDOS to this woman for being caring, understanding, and loving!