A Little TMI Otherwise Known As The Return Of My Period (I Think)

I think I am having my period. There are little drops of blood in my underwear. So must be, right? It has been so long. I think November of 2007 was my last sight of the bloods. Except, of course, for the massive soaking that comes after giving birth.

And then there was also the scary bleeding I had in the first trimester. When I saw the blood on the toilet paper this morning, my heart sank right back to that horrible morning I started bleeding. I remembered crawling back into bed after my 4:30 AM trip to the bathroom and whispering "No,no,no no, please God, no" and then rushing into the Ob/Gyn, my face stained with tears, my hands trembling, wanting to run into the ultrasound room and shove the wand up there myself and see that little heart beating and be relieved. It would take one more bloody scare for the doctor to tell me it looked liked the bleeding was from a low lying placenta and to take it easy but the baby was going to be fine. And she was. Better than fine. Perfect, she is.

The next time I would bleed would be the night I woke up to go to the bathroom three days before my due date and found blood on the toilet paper. As I went to lay down, I felt crampy and realized I felt like sitting up and as I sat there, I noticed that the crampy feeling was coming on rhythmically. I was having contractions and was at the beginning of labor.

My second thought this morning went to implantation bleeding before even considering it could be a period. I was all, "Oh hell no, I can't possibly be pregnant." Then I was all, "Hell no, you idiot, you are not pregnant. You are crampy and bloated and craving chocolate and salt. You are having your period." I think, anyway. It seems so much of my life has been punctuated with blood or the lack thereof over the past few years.

Where The Sun Don't Shine

Back in November, I went to the doctor because I was still having issues down under from giving birth. During the examination she noticed a couple of freckles on my inner butt cheek and referred me to a dermatologist. Well, between Nola's tummy issues and the move, it took me until this week to get to the doctor. After seeing it, she scheduled me for a biopsy. Am I a little worried about this suspicious freckle? Me? Worry? Um, yeah. In fact, FREAKED OUT is more like it. But I have to wait two weeks to get the biopsy and another week for the results so I am trying not to fixate on it.

liquid gold

This is my triumphant return to liquid makeup. For the last few years I have not been able to use "real" makeup. Bare Minerals is great but I really missed the look of liquid foundation. This is the best foundation I have ever used and it is a mineral makeup so it doesn't irritate, itch, or aggravate my skin at all. And you can get a pack of of samples that comes with the three different kinds of coverage level foundations in the most popular shades--that is brilliant.

Swept Away

Yeah it's been awhile and I fully acknowledge that I suck so there you have it. In other news, yesterday I spent about two hours in traffic, I am seeing my new doctor tomorrow for my ongoing stomach/allergies/female issues mystery illness, a group in my neighborhood is banding together to fight a cell phone tower placement on top of a blighted building--yes, the city is financially rewarding a known slumlord--gotta love LA, and my job is still tentative as they work out the "reorganization" of the office. Oh and I went to SF over the weekend to visit my brother and his wife and I had one of the best night's sleep I've had since well, the last time I was in San Fran.--not sure what it is about that city but I sleep really well there.

The Breakup

My doctor broke up with me. Actually, from what I can gather she broke up with my health insurance who then notified me through a letter. So I'm like the kid of the parent who got dumped--through a letter. And I'm heartbroken because I really liked my doctor. She was great. She always had time for me. She returned my phone calls promptly. She was professional and thorough.

I sensed bad things ahead when my employer switched to a new health care provider (from Healthnet to PacifiCare) last year and I had to do a lot of investigative work to even keep her as my doctor. But I prevailed, found out her number through covert means and got to keep her. And all was well. I've had several sucky not to mention embarrassing health experiences this year so I was all happy that I had been able to keep my doctor.

And then I got this horrible letter from this crappy new health care company beginning: RE: Physician Termination. It goes on to say that my doctor is no longer contracted with them. At the bottom it gives a number to call if I have any questions or concerns. So I called with some questions and concerns and was told they could not answer any of my questions or concerns!!!!!???????

On top of that they selected a new doctor for me. I'd gone to this doctor before when my doctor was out of town. This was because I had a wicked sinus infection and needed to see anybody. He prescribed antibiotics which killed the infection but left me with a number of issues down south that I would not want to go to a male doctor to discuss--particularly a male doctor with a moustache. It's not that I have anything against male doctors, I just don't want one for my primary care doctor because most of my issues are freakish female issues that I prefer to talk about with a female.

Anyway, it just sucks to be dumped.

Challenge

It may seem as though I have been swallowed into the vortex of negativity lately...but I have been up to a few cool things. The most important and most pressing at the moment is this...

http://www.mymschallenge.com/amelala

I am walking in the MS Challenge Walk this September 7-9. It's a fifty mile walk from Carlsbad to San Diego and the mission is to raise money for MS research. My goal is to raise $2500. The reason I am doing this walk is that my sister has this awful degenerative disease. She was diagnosed when she was fifteen and is now 31. Her entire adult life has been spent dealing with this debilitating illness and the frustrating array of symptoms that it brings...you name it...muscle weakness, numbness, memory loss, blindness, and the list goes on. She'll often say to me, "Hey you know smart people, can you ask them to find a cure for this?" It breaks my heart because the smart people I know write screenplays, edit reality shows, and teach rich kids. And so when she asks me this I feel like a total blowhard inept loser. Here she is struggling every day just to get out of bed, fold clothes, do her hair, not be in a wheelchair, and I am depressed?

Anyway, this is something I can do. Well, the walking part at least. The fundraising part is my personal challenge. I have a hard time asking for help so this has been a new experience for me and as much as I hope to raise a few bucks for MS and show my support and commitment to my sis, I have a feeling I will learn a few things about myself along the way.

Soul Mate - Pinkberry

I Love You!

If you have not yet experienced Pinkberry, I feel sorry for you. I love things that aren't at first lovable. And that's how this stuff is. The first bite is eh, but then you keep eating and before you know it you're addicted. It's sour and plain (hey, just like me--they say you always fall for your mirrors).

Another (not so) Secret is...

You're Fat!!!!

I had the sneaking suspicion that something was up with the women's clothes sizing. When I was a teenager, I could wear a two or four. Now I'm zero-zero??? Then I read this...
http://www.boston.com/news/nation/articles/2006/05/05/0_is_the_new_8/ and my suspicions were confirmed.

American women are delusional. Fat is not a lifestyle, it is a disease. No matter what size manufacturers put on a label, you are fat. This article should embarrass us as women. Not only do we buy into the idea that scrawny illiterate coked up b-list celebrities are the ideal of beauty, we allow ourselves to be marketed to in the most condescending way possible--changing numbers on clothing? The whole system is set up to see women fail and the corporate machine profits from it. First, teenagers buy clothes at adult stores. Then, 50-somethings try to compete with the 15 year old and buy the same clothes. It's a win-win for retailers but what happens to the 15 year old? She's in credit card debt by the time she's 18. And the 50-something? She's in debt too...and still fat. So she spends money on the diet industry which makes her more broke, and, after losing a few pounds, gains more back...so she is fatter then before and it just continues. Finally, she ends up depending on some pharmaceutical's anti-die from heart attack medication. American women...can we get real with ourselves and stop being corporate pawns?

On a final note, I often hear Marilyn Monroe invoked when fat women try to defend their disease. For the record, a vintage size 12 is a modern day 4-6! http://www.justsaywhen.com/Vintage-101-Sizing.htm