HYC: Week 35

Ohhhhh yeaaaaah!  I weighed in Saturday to see I was down another 2.6lbs, surpassing the 15lbs lost mark (sixteen point ONE, to be exact... hehe).  :)  This was my mid-month weigh-in, so no measurements this time around.  

Exercise feels... almost like a way of life (certainly part of my routine that I miss if I don't manage to get it done): I find myself trying to figure out ways to make time for it again, which is awesome - I always feel so much better overall when I'm active.  I'm doing well with watching what I eat to the point that the weight and inches are still dropping, without feeling deprived - it's all very low key and low stress (which is a GOOD thing for The Little Ball O'Stress).

I've been looking forward to the cooler weather because that means being able to walk after work again (well, until DST and darkness that falls before 5pm... ).  However, I've found myself almost sad at the thought of switching out the elliptical for walks, which is just silly because there's nothing saying I can't do both!

I'm feeling pretty damned good about life all around right now.  :)

Pretty things

I'm perusing Etsy.  Again.  As usual.  It's easy: it's comfortable and familiar and I don't feel like I don't belong on the site while I "shop."  Here is what caught my eye and struck my fancy today...

Zen Dress in Persimmon Orange $75

Ever since I realized that this burnt orange/pumpkin-y colour looks good on me, I've been coveting it.  In everything.  (I love the cowl neck, too.)

Cranberry Pearl Cluster Bracelet $26

I really like the look of cluster bracelets, and I love this colour.  She has tons of other colours, too!

Leather Love Cuff Bracelet $75

Not sure if it's the nekkid legs, the hint of heels, or what, but this cuff is very sexy to me.  Rawr!

Sterling Silver Hand-Stamped Necklace $35

And to go to the complete opposite end of the spectrum to "sweet," I really like this because I say this to Chebbar (and dear friends) a lot.

What's catching your eye lately?  Is it a certain colour?  A specific look?  Do tell!

Weekend round-up

• I started taking my new IBS meds on Friday: they didn't take away ALL my symptoms 100%, but I felt 90% better than I normally do during a flare-up, so that's a plus.
• That being said, I was (mostly) fine for the wedding on Saturday.
• However, the Spanx stayed home because they were hurting my gut.
• I ended up wearing dress #4 because it was a hell of a lot more forgiving in the belly-hiding department.  (I did keep dress #7, too, so that one will be making an appearance at the wedding in October, and I'm 99% certain I won't be period-IBSy then.)
• We went to Mom & Brad's for dinner on Friday so Mom could give me a pedicure when we were done.  I, uh, think it's been awhile since she's done one since she, erm, missed a couple of steps...  O_O  lol
• On Saturday afternoon, my head damn near exploded when Chebbar put on his brand new suit to find that the professional tailor made the sleeves on his jacket too short (like, painfully too short: he looked like he was wearing flood pants.  On his arms.).  He wants to just get a new jacket: I said no bloody way.  She'll be seeing if she can fix it (which I'm really not sure about because she didn't leave much of a hem) - at no extra charge, either - or if Sears will work with us on replacing the jacket.  
• The wedding went well.  The weather was gorgeous.  There were lots of, um, interesting people to watch.  I learned a couple of new fashion tidbits, such as men can have muffintops, too, and that it's completely acceptable to wear a bright red dress cut low enough in the back to show your ENTIRE white bra.
• Chebbar is physically incapable of being in a picture without making a face or feinting a boob grab.  Yeaaaaah.  #klassay
• When you go to a different friend's barbecue and everyone is drunk but you, PORRIDGE suddenly becomes unbelievably hilarious.
• I felt like the world's biggest and meanest asshole the two times I had to check on the dog at Chebbar's dad's and lock said dog back in his cage before leaving.  He *almost* came home with me (to our no pets apartment building).  Twice.
• I have the best boyfriend on the face of the planet: Taylor appeared to be waffling (vaguebooking), so Chebbar helped me out by sending her "he's a douche!" reminders via text message.  It worked.  
• Completely unprompted, Chebbar's sister declared that "marriage is for suckers."  Clearly the divorce wounds run deep in the whole family...  :-s
• In related news, we discussed my... sensitivity where his "jokes" about marriage are concerned: while he felt it necessary to repeat that I shouldn't care what other people think, he acknowledged my dislike for his joking and agreed to stop.  See?  Best Boyfriend on the Face of the Planet.
• Staying up until 1am on Friday night and 3am on Saturday night preeeeetty much guarandamntees you won't be asleep before 2:30am on Sunday night.  *yawn*
• In an attempt to try to learn to manage my stress/what I stress over (because I know that stress will be my #1 IBS trigger (after hormones, obvs)), I ordered this and this (I love workbook-type books: making me *think* about MY answers to questions helps make the information/knowledge stick).  I requested a bunch of stuff from the library, too.  (Oh, and I ordered this at the suggestion of the amazingly awesome @alotofnothing.)  If you have stress reduction resources, I'd love to hear about them!

How was YOUR weekend?

Tie me up

No, not like that: my hair, you pervs.

I used Goody's Ouchless elastics for years.  Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, they started getting... thinner.  And weaker.  And started stretching COMPLETELY OUT after one use (no exaggeration - two, tops).

Goody Ouchless Elastics $6.96 for 14

Growing increasingly frustrated by these craptastic elastics, I took to Twitter to plead for a better alternative.  Sadly, most people had the same problem I did, and were looking for another option as well.  MinnesotaJoy told me that she has used Goody's StayPut Headbands as hair ties before, but that's a little more wrapping than I was looking for.   MommaIncredible reported that her daughter - who has a lot of curly hair like I do - has had luck with Goody's StayPut Elastics, so I decided to investigate.

Goody StayPut Elastics $3.99 for 20

I paid between $4 and $5 for 10 elastics here, but all in all, it was worth it.  They do stretch out, but not anywhere near as fast (or as badly) as their Ouchless cousins - I used the same elastic for almost two weeks before moving onto a new one.  I've found that if I don't force them (i.e. wrap 'em around my hair too many times), they hold up for quite awhile.  Hell, they almost border on too tight: I absolutely cannot wrap these around my hair more than twice (unless I want to give myself a massive headache).  These were definitely worth the cost, and I'll buy them again.

Scunci No Slip Grip Elastics $3.69 for 16

TheRemoteJen suggested these as an alternative to Goody.  Unfortunately, Goody seems to have a strangle-hold on the market up here - I know I've seen Scunci products in WalMart, but not often.  I may find a way to try these in the future if I grow disillusioned with the StayPuts.

Are elastics something you consider part of the cost of doing your hair - like shampoo or conditioner - or do you expect a little more from your purchase?  Do you have a brand you love?  

I have not been compensated in any way, shape, or form for this review: this is my unbiased opinion.  I paid for the elastics with my very own Monopoly money. 

I am officially the proud new owner of hormone-aggravated IBS

Lucky me, no?  Gooooo, Mother Nature!  *eye roll*

I saw the gastroenterologist yesterday.  After hearing about my last bout of The Pile of Gastrointestinal Suck, he said he had "no doubt" this is Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and that it's aggravated by my period.  Niiiiice.   I was given a prescription for an anti-spasmodic to stop the stomach cramping (Hyoscine ButylBromide) and for something to help with the bloating (PMS-Domperidone).  I'm not so sure about that last one because of the side effects (it's illegal in the States, and while I understand Health Canada wouldn't make a drug available that wasn't "safe," it must be illegal down there for a REASON, y'know?).  However, I will likely start taking both preemptively tomorrow in the hopes of staving off symptoms at least until AFTER this wedding on Saturday.

I asked him if stacking my birth control to reduce the number of periods I get in a year would be a viable option; he said that it was a good idea.  When I asked if possible IBS attacks might be worse from being put off for so long, he said he really didn't know.

I'm feeling... overwhelmed (what else is new, right?).  It doesn't seem that there's anyway for me to control this - certainly not to get rid of it, unless I want a complete hysterectomy - other than with pills, pills, pills, all of which come at a (only-covered-if-Chebbar-has-benefits, because-I-don't) cost.  As well, from what I've read, IBS attacks can be brought on by stress.  Um, hi!  Tightly wound little ball o'stress right here!  I'm feeling... guilty?  Like I need to instantly just KNOW out how to deal more effectively - I get too upset over too many things that really don't deserve the attention, but I don't know how to just turn it off.  I should have discussed this with the gastro, but it didn't really hit me until after I'd forked over almost $50 for prescriptions last night.

I have an appointment with my GP next Thursday to discuss the whole birth control thing.  I'll discuss the overall diagnosis and my feelings about it as well.  Right now I'm trying hard NOT to think about it (so of course it's the ONLY thing I can think of), and the subsequent feeling that somehow my damned body (brain?) has betrayed me.  Dramatic word, I know, but that's how I feel right now.  And yes, I know it could be worse - I get that, trust me.  But this is still a big deal for me.  It's my blog and I'll cry if I want to.  :P

HYC: Week 34

I had a bit of a rough patch last week when I took progress pics only to see very, very little difference.  However, I learned some things:

• I learned that, just because I "always" used to give up and succumb to the siren's song of ice cream before when I'd face a "failure" doesn't mean I have to continue to do so.
• Not giving in feels MUCH better than giving in.
• Working out when you reeeeeally don't want to?  AMAZING HIGH.
• I like the subtle changes I am seeing in my body, even if they aren't readily apparent to anyone else.
• I like the indentations where my cheek bones have been buried.
• I like that I'm losing my chinS.
• I like the definition I'm starting to see in my arms (even if I'm still fighting the bingo wings).
• I like seeing my (upper) legs thin out.
• I like my big muscular calves.
• I like how I feel when I'm done working out, particularly when it's hot outside and Aunt Flo is visiting and all I wanna do is park my ass on the couch.
• I like how it feels to realize that yes, Virginia, you DO have willpower. 
• I like knowing that I recognize when I'm hungry and when I'm not...
• ...and I like knowing that I won't beat myself up if I decide I am hungry enough to eat a donut.  (Because I don't consider donuts evil - I just didn't need one yesterday because I'd already had my morning snack.  It was apple slices and hot chocolate: yes, I'm five.  Shutty.)
• I like having my resident ass-grabber tell me that there is now less "butt cheek to grab."  Oh yeaaaaah.  :)

Our TV (our NINE-MONTH-OLD TV) bit it on Friday, so no WiiFit, Just Dance, or exercise DVDs for me this week.  This also means I may not be able to do my mid-monthly weigh-in on Friday, which is kind of a bummer because I'm interested to see how much I was able to lose between receipt of the wedding invitation and the actual wedding.  I may try to see through the tracer effect on the TV to plug in the WiiFit anyhow.

I'm nervous about Saturday - not so much about the wedding itself* - but the potential for a bout of IBS.  I do see the gastro tomorrow and I don't intend on leaving without SOMETHING to control my symptoms, even if it's only for this weekend.  Wish me luck.

*(When talking to Chebbar about being nervous about meeting so many new people at once and worrying about being awkward, he told me that the one time he's seen me in that kind of setting (a party at his room mates' place where he was the ONLY ONE I knew), that I did extremely well and didn't seem the least bit awkward or stand-offish.  That made me feel pretty darned good because I totally felt like awkward arm-flail girl.)

Wedding Fever

I come from a longish line of failed marriages.  Hell, my own mother is on her third.  My grandparents' marriage is dysfunctional at best.  A few of my friends are married, and some of those marriages have already exploded.  I don't have the greatest of examples to draw from where marriage is concerned.  As such, it's never been something that was important to me - it seemed like something I could take or leave (when I bothered to give it more than a moment of my attention).

Chebbar has a similar (negative) experience with marriage.  To him, it's an "archaic construct," an unnecessary "piece of paper," an "expectation" to throw a "big, expensive party" to "prove" your love to your family and friends.  To call him cynical and jaded might be a bit of an understatement.  He's not sure he EVER wants to be married because, in his mind, marriage appears to "jinx" relationships.  He is old-fashioned in that he firmly believes in the sanctity of marriage and considers it a forever thing, not something trivial or temporary to be toyed with.  (And no, the irony isn't lost on either of us that we're not old-fashioned in the living-in-sin department.)

Growing up, I was a one-off: I had a different last name than my mom did.  Once her and Dad got married and had Nick and Taylor, they all had the same last name.  When Mom married Brad, her last name changed again, but Nick and Taylor still shared a name.  I was the only Lastname.  Enter Chebbar.

All of a sudden, I found myself wanting to be married.  To be clear, it's not about the wedding, the dress, the ring.  I know it's old-fashioned of me, but I want to belong to someone.  To feel like I'm part of a family because of a shared last name.  So, yes, I would like to enter into that contract with the man I plan to spend the rest of my life with.  He's pointed out that, for all intents and purposes, we are effectively "married" (read: common-law); that I could go tomorrow and legally change my last name to his (and that he'd be perfectly okay with this).  It's just not the same, though.

We were at the birthday party of one of his friends this past weekend.  One of the friends that is getting married soon.  This was after he got home from the bachelor party of one of his other friends that is getting married soon.  At the barbecue was a third friend who is recently engaged.  A fourth friend of his got engaged at the beginning of the summer.  Three different acquaintances of mine were getting married on Saturday  We are surrounded by engagements and weddings.

Someone asked what we "were" (meaning husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, etc.).  After we answered the question, Chebbar and this woman's husband started joking about marriage.  Chebbar's answer involved something about marriage "never happening."  Later on, another guy was making cracks and the phrase "tied down and drugged" in relation to being necessary before getting married was uttered.  

Unfortunately, we had a discussion about this awhile back - different friends, but similar "jokes."  I had told him then on the way home how uncomfortable it made me because, to me, it sounds like he won't marry me because... I'm not good enough?  And with people who don't know me at all (and haven't seen him in years), like Saturday night, it is entirely plausible that they may come to this conclusion, too.  Of course, I'm asked why I even care - who cares what people who don't know you think of you?  Well, I do.  Sorry: chalk it up to a character flaw.

To be fair, we have had similar conversations in the past in which he has assured me that it's not ME he's unsure of - he IS sure of me, of us, of our life together, that if he weren't he wouldn't still be here - it's marriage he's not so sure about.

We ended up having a conversation when we got home on Saturday that included phrases such as "Well, that may not ever be something I'm sure about," and "If you get to a point where you don't think you can live without it, you may have a decision to make," along with something about finding someone who could give me what I needed.  (I swear to Ceiling Cat, he can't even SAY the words "marriage" or "wedding."  It's actually mildly amusing.)  I tried to tell him that it wasn't a ring or GTFO situation - again, it's not about the wedding, the dress, the ring: I'd be happy with a visit to the court house.  He told me that it upsets him to see me upset by this; I told him that maybe I was going to just have to accept that he'd never marry me, and that he might have to accept that I may never be happy about that.  He declared it unfair that I should have to accept this; I turned around and told him it wasn't fair that he be forced into a marriage if that's not what he wants.  Stalemate.  

I had a fitful night's sleep, waking every so often with bits and pieces of the conversation playing on a loop in my head.  I woke up sad, hurt, and angry.  Oh, so very angry.  So unfortunately, I had to reopen the conversation.

I told him that it sounded like he thought I was just preoccupied with the big, expensive party: I told him that it was HIM that I wanted to marry and no one else - I have absolutely ZE.RO. interest in going out and finding some other guy who will "give me what I want."  If it's not Chebbar, I don't want anyone else.  I told him that it sounded like if I couldn't get on board with his way of thinking, that he'd force me to make a decision.  I also told him that he had no fucking right to force my hand: we recently had a situation in which he made a choice he wasn't overly happy with that he chalked up to a "sacrifice" that needed to be made for the greater good of our relationship - I told him that this may end up being MY "sacrifice."  He mentioned something about this being somewhat like having kids: if I wake up one day and decide I want kids, but he still doesn't, I have something of a limited time frame to find someone else to have kids with.  I told him in no uncertain terms that this is nothing like having kids because this isn't a deal breaker for me - if my choice is marriage OR Chebbar, Chebbar wins hands-down without hesitation.

I don't know where this is coming from, and that bothers me.  For YEARS I was the "I'm NEVER getting married!" girl: it did seem like a crapshoot, and it did seem like more marriages ended in divorce than not - I didn't ever see myself getting married, children or not.  Then Chebbar comes along and turns my world upside down (in a good way) and here I am, wanting something that I don't even consciously think about until a "joke" is made.  It makes me feel like some kind of spoiled brat kid throwing a temper tantrum because that kid has a toy I wasn't even interested in until he picked it up.  I don't know why it bothers me, and most days it doesn't because it's not at the fore front of my mind; and because it isn't, it makes me think I should just be able to shut it up and assimilate.

I'm blaming wedding fever.

By the numbers

I listened to the people who encouraged me.  I did not listen to my gut.  In a fit of cockiness, I took progress pictures last night.  Y'know, stripped-down-to-your-skivvies progress pics?  Yeah, that kind.  I was curious to see what difference 15lbs and 18" could make (which,  now? while I know is something to be proud of? ISN'T REALLY ALL THAT MUCH).

When I looked at the pictures on the camera, I laughed nervously, sure I didn't look much different from what I remembered from the last set.  After firing up the external drive and accessing the pictures, I was startled to find that I only took the last set a mere six weeks ago.  Oh: no wonder they don't look much different!  So I dug a little deeper into the hard drive and found pictures that apparently I took over a year ago (June 2009).

Side-by-side comparison: oh, shit.  Wow.  Well, it's good to see I'm consistent in the I'm-going-to-rip-your-head-off-and-spit-down-your-neck facial expression.  Okay, I do see that difference in my face (less chinS!) that I mentioned on Twitter, so there's that.  (That difference is even evident in the pictures from six weeks ago.)

How depressing.

My first instinct?  Curl into a doughy ball o'fetal position around a tub of Ben & Jerry's.  However, I dragged my sad ass off the couch, got onto the elliptical, and completed my damned workout.  And do you know what?  I was proud of myself when I finished because normally this would've been the perfect excuse to skip the workout (and likely the precursor to a weeks-long backslide).

Cansec asked if I have been tracking my weight and measurements (yes) because those numbers don't lie.  He's right: they don't.  And those numbers are getting smaller every month, even if I don't *look* like I am.

I never liked pictures anyhow.

Etailer woes

I placed an order with an etailer last week.  On Monday, I got an email stating my order had been shipped.  Yesterday, I got an email from Paypal notifying me that I had received a partial refund from the company - no word from said etailer about what was refunded or why.  I sent an inquiry and received a message telling me that it would state on the packing slip what was out of stock, but that she was "pretty sure" it was the (four bottles of) emu oil.

The emu oil?  Was the whole reason for the order.  I responded by saying that this was extremely frustrating, as I wouldn't have placed an order if I had known they were out of stock.  Her reply was simply "Sorry."

The company is closing, so there's no hope for reordering at a later date.  I'm feeling a little... used.  Wouldn't it have made sense to let me know *before* the order was shipped that more than half of it would be missing?  (Hell, to let me know AT ALL?)  Because the company's closing, it feels like they purposely didn't give me a heads-up because they were worried I might cancel the rest of the order and they want to sell off as much of their remaining stock as possible.  They don't offer returns, and I'm guessing they wouldn't have given me a refund anyhow.

This just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.  Transparency would have gone a long way here: write all over your website in big, bright, bold letters than stock may change without notice - at least then it's buyer beware; maybe then I wouldn't have felt, I dunno, hoodwinked?  What I do know is that I wouldn't be ordering from them again if they were staying open.

Dumpbook

So, I got dumped on facebook today.  Yes, I'm one of those people who pays enough attention to notice, and yes I'm one of those people who cares enough to wonder why when it happens.  I know, I know: I shouldn't care.  But, um, unless you're knew here?  I don't have the thickest skin.  I can get butthurt be sensitive.

Honestly, I don't know *why* it bothers me as much as it does: we hardly interacted on there.  I'd comment on a picture here or a status update there; she rarely replied and never commented independently.  (And for the record, no, I wasn't stalkbooking her: I wasn't commenting on every. single. thing. she posted.)  We were old friends from a different time.  We're at different points of our lives than we were when the friendship first formed, and in completely different points on our life paths.

But it still stings, y'know?  I mean, I didn't exactly expect a Dear John letter of farewell, but to be summarily dropped with no warning or explanation kind of leaves me wide-eyed wondering what the hell I did.  It all comes back to my guilt complex and assuming that I must have done something wrong, to the point that I actually considered sending her a message for half a second.  However, pride got the best of me when I started mulling over what I would say - "Dude!  WTF did I do?!?" "Um, did you accidentally delete me?" - and I did not send a pissy/pathetic message.  (Somehow it conveniently escapes me that *I* have removed people with which I've had little interaction.  And yes, I'm aware that this kind of makes me a big, fat hypocrite.  *ahem*)

Do you pay attention to your "number"?  Do you care if someone unfriends* you?  Have you - or would you - send a message to someone who did unfriend you?  Or, would you send a message to someone explaining why you're unfriending them?  I know, I know: get over it already.  Her loss, right?  (Say right, dammit.  lol)

(As an aside, there was another friend who unfriended me seemingly out of the blue - we chatted back and forth all the time, commented on each other's posts, etc. - so it caught me really off-guard.  I did send a message that time, just because it came from so far out of left field, and I was glad I did: she thought I had unfriended her!  There was a lot of crap going on with facebook at the time and people were seeing their entire friends lists deleted (hell, one woman's entire account disappeared).)

*Heh, according to that definition, I'm one of those "compulsive" people.

HYC: Week 33 - (Mis)perceptions

I confessed at No More Muffintop on Friday that I was worried about my weigh-in: because I had been doing so well for so long, I was waiting for the "inevitable" backslide (see: yesterday - Chicken Little!).  I was right, sort of.  I was up almost a pound from my mid-month weigh-in.  (However, if I'm going by "official" monthly weigh-ins, I'm STILL down 2.2lbs from last month's weight.)  I was a little disappointed that I hadn't hit 15lbs lost yet, but I wasn't *too* upset by it because, as I mentioned in last week's check-in, I didn't exercise at all last week.  And in looking back at my progress, I've only had monthly gains twice.

I also confessed on Twitter that I thought maaaaaybe I was looking a little thinner in the face, but that I was too embarrassed to ask anyone who sees me on a regular basis.  A photo comparison was suggested (I did take a picture, but I haven't compared them - I don't think I want the realization (if this is the case) that it's all in my head).  At that point, I also confessed that I'd like to take progress pictures, but I'm scared to in case the almost-15-pounds isn't evident.  I started wondering about how far I've come and the changes I can *feel* in my body.  It wasn't until I started actually everything up that I had a "holy shit!" moment...

Since I started a year ago, I haven't quite lost 15lbs, but I have lost 18 inches.  EIGHTEEN.  That's a lot, right? O_O  I'm proudest of the fact that I've lost 4.5" from my waist and 3.5" from my abdomen (the dreaded belly fat).  

So, for the last month, I'm officially down 2.2lbs and 3.5".  I'm still scared to take those pictures.

I have a couple of questions...  1) I'm starting to see *some* definition in my arms, but I'm still suffering a fairly severe case of bingo wings: they will go away eventually, right?  RIGHT?!?  D:  2) I recently added measurements to my tally (for some unknown reason, I was only (stupidly) measuring one side of my body): how do I account for these new measurements and losses?  Do I just lump 'em in with the rest of the inches lost?  Or should I not be measuring every. damned. body part?

I'm wearing shorts for the first time this summer.  Even though they're fitting MUCH bigger than they did last summer, I'm still feeling self-conscious because I don't normally show "this much" (read: knee-length shorts) leg.  Also?  My calves are HUGE.  Unfortunately, while I know there's some fat there, the majority is muscle, so unless I... oh, I dunno, STOP WALKING... they're likely not going to change much.  Be glad I have calves, right?  Heh.

Catastrophizing (aka Chicken Little Syndrome)

Lauren of No Trying, Just Doing commented on my last No More Muffintop post and mentioned catastrophizing - thinking that doing one thing wrong means everything will fall apart.  That proverbial light bulb started to hum as I googled the term to confirm what I suspected... I most certainly do this, I just didn't realize it had a name.  I've called it Chicken Little Syndrome because ZOMG! The sky! It is! FALLING!

(Also, I just *can't* wrap my brain around this word: I either want to pronounce it catastroSizing, or cat-A-strophmumblemumble.)

From PsychCentral:

"Catastrophizing is an irrational thought a lot of us have in believing that something is far worse than it actually is."

and

"Falling prey to Catastrophizing is like striking out in your mind before you even get to the plate...  It can affect our entire outlook in life, and create a self-fulfilling prophecy of failure, disappointment and underachievement.

Both may lead you to self-pity, to an irrational, negative belief about the situation, and to a feeling of hopelessness about your future prospects. Further, both of these types of Catastrophizing will define either the presence or absence of alternative possibilities, and possibly paralyze you from going further with efforts toward your goals in life."

Boy, howdy!  This blog is testament to my ability to blow things out of proportion expect the worst possible outcome to EVERYTHING I do wrong/screw up/fail at.  I've been that way for as long as I can remember.  I have no idea how, when, or why I decided that anal retentiveness, a bent for perfectionism, and the overwhelming perception that I've utterly and miserable FAILED if things don't go as I had planned were traits worthy of pursuing.

I stress.  I stress about life.  About work.  About money.  About family and friends.  About things completely out of my hands.  Chebbar tells me I need to "just turn it off."  When I insist that I don't know how to "just turn it off," he tells me that there is no knowing: you just DO it.  You CHOOSE to not worry about it.  I honestly (and insist that I) don't know HOW to shut off worry/stress/catastrophizing.  If I did, god DAMN would my life be a sight more enjoyable!

To be fair, once some time has passed and I've been able to process the latest catastrophe, nine times out of ten I realize that it's really not THAT bad and recognize that everything will work out in the end - they all do work out the way they're meant to in time.  However, sometimes part of processing shitty, stressful things for me involves voicing said Chicken Little-ing: I need to talk it out of my head to acknowledge it and to recognize that it's really not that scary/threatening/likely to happen - keeping it inside is almost a surefire guarantee that I will chew on it and over-analyze it to the point that I'm now mentally dealing with Godzilla.  And he's hungry.  And pissed right off.

According to PsychCentral, the first step to deal with catastrophizing is to recognize that you're doing it, and mentions that keeping track of negative thoughts may start to show you a pattern of when you're likely to catastrophize.  The article goes on to suggest that you "answer back" to yourself in a more calm, rational, positive manner.

Are you a catastrophizer?  Are you able to "just turn off" worry and stress?  If so (for the love of Ceiling Cat), how?  Has attempting to turn negative self-talk into positive self-talk worked for you?

And the winner is... @mommygeekology!

MommyGeek!  Congrats, lady!  :)

New post at No More Muffintop

Go check it out!

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Today's the last day to enter my CNS Stores giveaway!  Enter before 5pm PST!

Kid Robot!

Why do I always gotta be the last to know, Internet?  Which one of you is responsible for not introducing me to Kid Robot sooner?!?  GAH!

From the website, "Kidrobot is the world's premier creator of limited edition art toys and apparel. Kidrobot creates toys, apparel, accessories, and other products in collaboration with many of the world's most talented artists and designers."

This stuff?  Is cool.  Look...

Wish Come True Mini Figurines $8.95

These little guys only stand 2.5" tall, but they have weighted bottoms (heh, kinda like me?) and chimes, so they'll jingle while swaying back and forth.  They're a "blind assortment," so it will be like Christmas - surprise!

Kid Onion $39.95

I'm not really sure what exactly it is about Kid Onion that appeals to me, but I like him.  *nods*

Gloomy Bear $29.95

I'm totally giggling over the juxtaposition of this cute, pink bear and its bloody claws.  Heh

Mini Munny $9.95

The Munny came out a few years ago - the idea is for you to create your own art (which Rosie O'Donnell was doing for awhile and auctioning off for charity... oh!  She still is, over on Etsy!).  Mini Munny comes in a variety of colours with a "mystery accessory" - Kid Robot also has Munny animals.

Heroes & Heartbreakers $5.95

This is another assortment of blind assortment of figurines, but these ones have been zombified.  Awesome.

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Don't forget to pop over to my other blog and enter the CNS Stores giveaway!

"I *never* forget my penis is there!" - aka: A Conversation in Parts. About Parts.

Me [leaning over the arm of my chair to pick up a receipt from the floor]: OUCH!
Him: Did you hurt your back?  [Yeah, I wrenched my back.  Again.  Not playing Just Dance, mind you: demonstrating my killer dance moves to Chebbar two hours later.  My awesomeness knows no bounds.]
Me: No, I hurt my boob.
Him: How... did you do that?  [Starts chuckling.]
Me: NOT FUNNY!  I leaned over to pick up the receipt and squashed my boob against the arm of the chair and THEN I tweaked my back again.
Him: [Guffaws loudly.]
Me: NOT FUNNY!
Him [through gales of laughter]: HOW do you DO that?
Me: What? I forget they're there sometimes, okay?
Him: BWA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAA HOW do you FORGET they're THERE?!?  I *never* forget my penis is there!  BWA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAA
Me: This is SO going on the internet.  [Mumbles darkly.]


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Don't forget to pop over to my other blog and enter the CNS Stores giveaway!

HYC: Week 32 - Choices good and bad

Last week?  Abysmal failure, by my standards.  By anyone else's (read: any *sane* person)?  Perfectly understandable.  I had another round of the Pile of Gastrointestinal Suck that caught me completely off-guard because it had been TWELVE WEEKS since the last bout.  And this one?  This one was bad enough that it reminded me why I had pushed to see specialists.  Thankfully, it only lasted a few days and I was feeling mostly okay by Wednesday.  Needless to say, I did not workout Monday or Tuesday, and Wednesday's "workout" consisted of scrubbing the bathrooms (hey, if it's vigorous enough to make me break a sweat and lasts longer than 15-20 minutes, it counts as a workout in my book *wink*).

By Thursday, I was feeling completely overwhelmed (borderline anxiety attack, truth be told) because I felt like I didn't have enough TIME.  Chebbar was on his second (third? no, I think that's this week) week of nights and was on the other shift - not the shift in which he can carpool with his dad.  Not carpooling means he gets up later, dawdles takes his time getting ready, and ends up out the door later than usual.  Wednesday night, I wasn't back upstairs to start dinner after seeing him off until 6:30; dinner prep took longer than expected; and by the time dinner, dishes, lunches, clean up, showering, etc. was done, it was 9pm.  That probably doesn't seem THAT bad considering I don't go to bed until 10-10:30, but I'm used to a little more down time than that, and it's the matter of feeling rush-rush-rush on the go from basically 6am to 9pm that makes me want to cry.

Thursday night ended up more of the same.  I skipped my workout even though I *really* didn't want to, simply because I felt pulled in too! many! directions!  Now, don't get me wrong: I could trim time from other areas to MAKE time for exercising, but it would basically be at the expense of spending 20 minutes chatting with Chebbar while he showers - and that 20 minutes?  The only time I'll see him for a 24-hour period.  How do you make that choice?  Your workout, or your partner?  SERIOUSLY.

I was NOT happy.  I was winding up to wait until the weekend and basically dump it in his lap - what did HE suggest I do with my time to balance out everything I wanted to do with everything I needed to do?  And then (and then! of COURSE! because there's *always* an "and then!") he called me on his break and told me they'd put him back on his dad's schedule for this week, meaning a third week of straight graveyards, but also a return to more... brain-friendly departure times.  

And Friday was just a matter of being DONE with the damned (work) week.  I chose not to workout.

(I *did* workout on Sunday, though, and found that 1.5 of the 3 pounds I had lost the previous week had returned.  However, I'm choosing to ignore their existence, since I don't officially weigh in until Friday.  Heh.)

I managed to workout yesterday, too, and boy was I glad I got my ass in gear and did it the second I got home because plans (inevitably) changed.  Taylor and Douche Canoe broke up on Sunday and she was moving out last night.  We were supposed to meet her and the parents there at 7pm to help move some stuff, but someone (*cough*NOT ME*cough*) was dragging a bit after a (night shift-preparatory) nap and we were too late - we ended up going straight to my parents' and helping to unload at that end.  Long story short, the move time was bumped up half an hour, dinner was stopped mid-production, aaaaand we ended up at McDonald's on the way home at 8:30.  

Yes, I ate McDonald's.  At 8:30.  Two very, very short hours before bed.  And I did NOT make good food choices.  As such, boy did I pay for it all night.  (Not sure if that's *still* my issue, but ever since I ate an apple at 9:30, my stomach has been cramping something fierce every time I eat or drink anything.)

So, yeah.  All in all, a not-so-great week.  Thank god we're onto a new one!

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Don't forget to pop over to my other blog and enter the CNS Stores giveaway!

Giveaway! At "A Case of the Gimme-Gimmes"!

Hey, you!  Yes, you!  Have you ever visited my other blog?  The one linked to over there in the sidebar?  You should, you know: I post all KINDS of awesome stuff you'll covet.  (No, really: there's some super cool stuff over there, if I do say so myself.)  And I just hit publish on a giveaway over there!  Have you heard of CNS Stores?  They have over 200 stores, with everything from lamps to toilets to luggage to dining room sets - seriously: if you need it, they have it - all in one convenient location.


Quick, go see!  Enter!  Win!


(You do need to go to that post to be entered in the contest: while I appreciate every comment, comments left here won't count.  Sorry!  :(  )

Are you feeling lucky, punk?

You all know I love to virtual window shop (oh, to nail down the winning lottery ticket numbers... ) - I could spends hours (and thousands of dollars) poking around the interwebz to see what I can see.  I've fallen in love with a lot of stuff on a lot of sites, all as varied as my moods.  (Heh)  Sometimes it can be hard to pin down exactly where to find that long sought-after item, though.  But!  Have you heard of CNS Stores?  They have over 200 stores, with everything from lamps to toilets to luggage to dining room sets - seriously: if you need it, they have it - all in one convenient location.  How awesome is that?!?  Talk about one-stop shopping!  The best part (in my (not so) humble opinion) is that they ship to Canada, too!

And guess what?  CNS Stores is offering a $50 gift certificate to be used in ANY of their 200+ stores.  That's right: free shopping.  WOOT!  Oh, man!  Where to even start?!?

Okay, here's the easy part: all you have to do is leave me a comment telling me what you'd spend that $50 on - one item? a bunch of stuff? or would you put it towards a larger purchase?  And if you *really* want to indulge me, leave me a link to what you'd buy so I can live vicariously through you.  ;)


Rules: Contest closes at 5pm PST on Friday, August 13th (what better way to end Friday the 13th than with a giveaway?).  Winner will be randomly selected.  One entry per person, please - duplicate entries will be disqualified.  This giveaway is open to US and Canadian residents.  Please make sure to leave an email address in your comment so CNS Stores can get your gift certificate to you.  And if you have any questions, feel free to shoot me an email.  Good luck!


Disclaimer: I was contacted by CNS Stores with this opportunity.  I am in no way being compensated for hosting this giveaway.

So, basically I suck.

Not that *cough*some of you*cough* don't already know that about me...  (Yeah, I'mma let you take that any which ever way you choose.)

I heard about BlogHer at Home last year and thought it sounded like a lot of fun, but I was still pretty new on the blog/Twitter scene and didn't really "know" anyone (read: feeling like the new kid at school again = me no likey).  BUT!  Over the past year, I've gotten to know (and love) BHAH10's hostesses, Lu from Jaded Perspective and Jen from The Psychobabble, better and knew I had to play along.  I've entered a ton of giveaway contests; I'm gonna go blog hopping when I'm done here; and I got to chat with a whole TON of awesome people last night (there will be another chat tonight, too: go to the BHAH link above to get the details) - it felt like the "old days" when I used to frequent chat rooms...  Hush.

Last summer, I was planning on going to BlogHer10.  However, after a series of unfortunate events (read: lay-offs hurt the bank account, yo), it wasn't in the cards.  And as much as it's fun to get caught up in the excitement of everyone who IS there, I've read posts and tweets that have reminded me that I'm not really a big fan of HUGE social engagements; meeting TONS of new people (never mind all at once); the whole AH MAH GAH WHAT DO I WEAR?!? angst messes with my head when I'm just going to work; I've NEVER travelled by myself, so that would scare the pants off me (I'm a chicken shit, m'kay?); and I'm so cheap I squeak, so somehow justifying the expense when my blog isn't exactly big/popular/whatever would be tough.

This is NOT by any means, in any way, shape, or form, meant to bash/belittle/insult/offend/hurt/piss off those who have and will go to Blogher: hell, I'm not even saying I'll never go.  It's more an explanation (and more to myself than anyone else) as to why I'm not there.  I would have felt tremendous guilt if we had used the majority of our savings to send me to this conference before Chebbar got called back to work, you know?  And what fun can possibly be had when you're worrying about every penny spent (and still to be spent)?  If you're new here, I'm a stress case (as the blog name implies).  

But the ladies at BHAH have gone out of their way to provide an amazing and fun outlet for those of us who aren't at the Hilton in New York right now.  They've been doing some unbelievable giveaways, and will continue to do so tonight, so be sure to stop by over there, leave a comment, and try to win yourself some swag from the comfort of your pajamas on the couch.  And don't forget to check out the chat, too!  

Cheers!

Clumsy? Why yes, yes I am!

The lovely hismuse posted a question on tumblr that I answered on facebook (because I'm special like that) asking if you'd ever broken any bones and, if so, how.  Because I fail at reading comprehension my stories are kinda long(ish) (don't pretend like you're surprised: you know I'm a verbose mofo), I only told her what I have broken.  Plus, since I couldn't think of an idea for blogging today, I'm basically stealing hers.

I "broke"* my nose when I was 11.  It was one of those muggy, rainy-ish summer days and I guess Mom had had her fill of me, so she sent me outside to play.  Taylor was napping and Nick was... Nicking.  We had a carport that had half-walls made of that corrugated plastic that you usually see on a green house, kind of like this:

Anyhoodle.  I was balanced on the wooden "railing" portion of the wall - I don't feel like I'm explaining myself very well: perhaps it's time to break out the MS Paint...

Pretend my clothing's a little more fashionable.  And my hair is less yellow.  And my shoes look less like turds.

So!  See-sawing back and forth, back and forth, baaaaack and forrrrrth over the (damp from the afore-mentioned rain) railing until... BANG!  I slip, pitch forward, head going THROUGH the plastic wall-stuff, and I'm sitting - stunned - on the ground trying to figure out what that warm stuff is running down my face.  (Okay, not quite: I've long been a hot-weather-induced nosebleed sufferer.)

I ran into the house to tell Mom, and she got ANNOYED with me because she was going to have to wake Taylor from her nap.  I'm surprised I didn't get yelled at for bleeding all over the place.  Oh, and?  She made me change into a DRESS before she'd take me to the hospital because she didn't want me looking "like a ragamuffin."  THANKS, MOM.  

I'm not sure if I broke my right baby toe, cracked it, or just bruised it badly, but it was another Rocket Surgery Club Member situation.  I was walking down the (same) hallway (in the house I'd lived for four years) and somehow managed to walk into the corner of the (same) couch (that had resided at the head of said hallway for the same four years I'd lived in said house): the couch caught between my "this little piggy had none" toe and my baby toe, separating them PAINFULLY.

The following summer, I was in the bathroom getting ready to go out when I heard my phone ring.  I ran into my bedroom and somehow (see above: Rocket Surgery Club Member) managed to do a similar maneuver to my left and had-none-toes with the corner of a wall.  That one I broke: my toe and halfway up the top AND bottom of my foot turned purple, I couldn't wear a shoe for over a month, and I couldn't bend/move/control that toe properly for the better part of a year.

I'm the epitome of grace, yo.

*I say "broke" because the ER doc wasn't sure if it was broken or just cracked, and couldn't be arsed to do an x-ray.  Judging by the lingering bump/crookedness, I'd say it was broken.  I've never had it fixed because he struck fear in my 11-year old heart by telling me they'd have to RE-BREAK IT to fix it.  Hurt bad enough the first time around: what did he think I was, stupid?

Sofa king over this

Warning: there will be far more TMI than is likely polite, and likely a considerable amount of cursing in the following post.  If that's not your cup of tea, here's some fluffy bunnies for you.




I went 12 weeks with no symptoms.  THREE MONTHS without the Pile of Gastrointestinal Suck.  When I got diarrhea on Friday - two days after old FLOrence Henderson packed her bags for the month - I chalked it up to the bran muffin for breakfast and rich pasta for lunch.  When I had another bout of stomach cramping and diarrhea Sunday night, I blamed the ice cream I ate two hours earlier.  When the overwhelming feeling of pending vomit kept me awake until 4am Monday night (Tuesday morning?) I (incorrectly) blamed the potato salad I ate at Mom's for dinner (yes, I was in SUCH denial I basically accused my mother of giving me food poisoning).  Unfortunately, as I spent an extremely uncomfortable day off sick from work yesterday, I had to admit it: the Pile of Gastrointestinal Suck IBS(?) was back.

Because I was awake until 4am (then awake at 5, 6:40, 7:45, and finally 8:50), I stayed home from work: I didn't think it was a great idea to hit the highway all sleep deprived.  My stomach was doing its hurty/crampy thing, regardless of whether/what I ate or drank.  I was so bloated/full of gas/distended that my waist and abdomen both measured 2" bigger than normal (yes, I measured: shut up.  I wanted to be able to say with certainty that I was, in fact, distended).  I kept running to the washroom, only to release little, um, "bits" and a whole lot of gas.  However, the last time I went to the washroom (#5, I believe?), I was greeted with toilet paper covered in blood - like, heaviest-day-of-your-period blood.  The toilet bowl seemed "full" of blood, but I know that it likely was less than it looked.

Of course, dumb-ass me decides to pay a visit to Dr. Google to see if bloody stool is a symptom of IBS.  Of course, I got conflicting answers.  Of course, this was making me hyperventilate.  (Oh, did you know that stress/anxiety can aggravate IBS?  HI, Vicious Circle!  I didn't miss you AT ALL!)  Never mind the fact that I have a "history" of rectal bleeding (oh, yes: surprise! rectal exam by a new-to-me doctor at the walk-in clinic - apparently was an anal fissure/tear).  As well, if I *go* too many times in a day, I will see small amounts of blood on the toilet paper (I have the bad habit of being a hyper wiper).

At this point in time, I haven't had any more blood, but I've only had one bowel movement (and boy was that scary).  My stomach is in a perpetual state of cramp, again regardless of whether I eat/drink.  I'm torn between riding this out - because it will end: it always does - and waiting until my follow-up appointment with the gastro, and calling to see if a) I should go in sooner and b) if they even have an earlier appointment.

I'm feeling really beat down by this, especially upon reading that there is evidence to support that IBS can be brought on by being anxious/stressed out/dealing with a life-changing event (one link I read mentioned bereavement: coincidence that this started a month after my grandfather passed away from cancer, I returned to the town I haven't been since I was 12, and I had to face family members I've been estranged from for 20 years?).  I've always gotten the upset stomach (which often leads to the trots) when I'm upset/stressed/anxious: that combined with my ability to exhibit physical symptoms of stress and anxiety while having ZERO CLUE what the hell I'm stressed about kind of freaks my freak.  How the hell am I supposed to prevent/avoid/manage stress when I don't know what is stressing me?!?  Christ on a bike.  It's making me feel... hopeless and powerless about ever getting a handle on this (which I *know* is a defeatist attitude to take so early on, but there it is: I ain't gonna lie to you).



(On another weird note, I had a call last week from one of my (paternal) aunts with more information on our family medical history.  It turns out Grandpa didn't actually have colon cancer: he had cancer of the small bowel, which apparently is more rare.  As well, his brother didn't die from colon cancer as earlier reported by Grandma: he had a tumour at the junction of the small and large intestines that, by the time they found it and removed it, was so far gone the cancer just roared through his body.  There are multiple cases of IBS in the family; asthma runs in the family; and of the six adult children, two have dairy allergies and the other four are lactose intolerant (there are a few more cousins that are lactose intolerant as well).  There is one case of endometriosis so severe it took over my cousin's abdominal cavity and resulted in a hysterectomy, and one case of cervical cancer that spread to my great aunt's ovaries by the time they tried to fix it.  Lots of good info obtained for me to take to the gastro.)

HYC: Week 31

I'm viewing this past week as a fail.  Well, exercise-wise, anyhow.  Monday I took the day off because I felt like I needed the rest (although, technically Monday was the end of the previous week).  Tuesday I did the elliptical and weights.  Wednesday I had to leave work early because of a migraine.  Thursday I did the elliptical and weights again.  Friday I had... I don't know if it was a return of the Pile of Gastrointestinal Suck, or just what I had eaten, but I was in and out of the washroom with the runs all day and my stomach was doing the crampy thing every time I ate.  I've pretty much had some degree of a headache since Friday.  Saturday was spent running errands before Dawn and Wyatt came over to visit; Sunday was spent doing the errands we didn't get to on Saturday.  I had grand aspirations to get in a third workout for the week as well as scrubbing both bathrooms and finishing the laundry yesterday, but best laid plans and all that jazz (we had a surprise visit from Chebbar's family, followed by a migraine for me, then dinner at my parents' house, and I don't know if I ended up with food poisoning or what, but I was up until 4 this morning feeling like I was going to  hurl: no work for me today, and my stomach aches like I *did* vomit all night).  

I am NOT happy.  

However, I did a mid-monthly weigh-in on Saturday (I realized that if I'm continuing to drop weight, I should probably adjust  my calorie requirements on Lose It instead of potentially over-eating for 2-3 weeks) and found that I had lost another 3.1 lbs.  

I would REALLY like to get back on the horse today, but I'm going to have to play it by ear.  The headaches are bad enough (not sure if it's allergies, heat, something else... ), but coupled with the gastro distress, the thought of being active kinda makes me want to cry.  But sitting on my ass AGAIN/STILL also makes me want to cry.  Blarg.

Here is last month's activity:

18 days out of a goal of 20 (22 if you count the first two days of the month).  Not great, but not bad, either.

Here's hoping this week improves immensely.