Girl Parts.....

This week I went to Vanderbilt to the Infectious Disease Clinic.  Nice office...but sketch.  First of all, the office was decked out for Halloween.  So the first thing I noticed was the big sign covering the entire door behind the reception desk that read "MORGUE...NO EXIT".  Most people know how much I loathe Halloween.  And seeing that banner in a clinic...especially an infectious disease clinic...no, just no.  Also, you know that the people in the clinic waiting to be seen are sick with some sort-of infectious disease.  HIV/AIDS, TB, syphilis...the list goes on and on.  It makes you feel...dirty (not because of their unfortunate situations...but because you don't want another infection).  You feel like you should be in a Hazmat suit.  And apparently I am now one of them.  Well, not really...at least I'm not contagious.  My "infectious disease" situation just aims to kill my own body and no one else. 

CC went with me.  Now, I have to note that CC is terrified of disease.  He isn't what I would call a germaphobe. Not at all.  But he is terrified of contracting a disease.  A diseaseaphobe.  So he had decided before we even arrived that he would not be touching any doorknobs.  Even sitting in the waiting room chair was questionable for him.  Once I got checked in, he had to pee.  But people kept coming out from the exam rooms and using the bathroom in the waiting area.  It should be noted that they were all carrying something in thick brown paper bags in and out of the bathroom and then returning to the exam rooms.  Make your own assumptions.  CC had no choice but to use said bathroom.  But I think he may have boiled his skin in the sink.  I'm still not sure he didn't throw his clothes away once we got home...

The doctor was wonderful.  I loved him.  He was so nice and thorough and truly the best experience I have had with a doctor through my whole ordeal thus far.  He even checked my teeth...thorough.  After about 20 minutes, when we were done with knee talk and he was done checking me out, he asks for me to tell him any and everything that I have wrong with me.  He said he needs to know absolutely everything.  So I tell him that I have asthma and allergies...things like that...you know, things all the cool kids have.  CC...who never ever says a word because he is painfully shy...decides this is the moment he should speak up.  And what he says leaves this chatty princess stunned into momentary silence.  Brace yourself.  He says, "Aren't you going to tell him about the bump on your girl parts".  Go ahead, absorb that.  Let it sink in.  He actually said AREN'T YOU GOING TO TELL HIM ABOUT THE BUMP ON YOUR GIRL PARTS!!!!  In an Infectious Disease Clinic.  In all the years we have been together, I have never wanted to kill him.  But at that moment I wished for a concrete block to throw at his head.  The doctor looked at me wide-eyed like I was keeping some big secret from him that he needed to know.  And once my stunned silence wore off, I said "what the hell".  And CC says, "you know, the bump on your girl parts that you have been seeing a doctor for".  More stunned silence...from me and the doctor.  I looked at he doctor and told him that I most certainly didn't have any bumps on my girl parts and that I had no idea what my fiance was talking about.  He didn't look convinced as I am sure he thought my fiance would know if I had some sort-of "outbreak".  It wasn't until CC offered up "you know, the bump you have been getting x-rays of" that I realized he was talking about the CYSTS on my OVARIES.  Not a BUMP on my GIRL PARTS.  So I looked at the doctor and told him I do have ovarian cysts that are being followed by a doctor.  Not herpes or syphilis or gonorrhea or some other dreadful INFECTIOUS disease.  So, thanks CC.  Thanks for the mortification.  Thanks for a story that I'm sure the doctor will be telling his buddies for years to come.  Thanks for choosing that very moment to speak. 

I'm off to Southern Joint Replacement Institute first thing in the morning.  I have already told CC that if he speaks, he's a dead man.  :)

My Realest Blogpost To Date....

I'm writing this as a form of therapy for myself.  I know I don't normally write like this...but I need to for my mental health, whether anyone ever reads it or whether I publish it or not. 

I'm mad as hell.  I'm frustrated.  I'm scared.  I'm in pain.  I'm crippled.  I'm sick at least 40% of the time from long-term antibiotic use.  I'm strong....but I'm tired.  I'm not looking for sympathy.  I am venting. 

I've not had a good week.  Not since my fiasco of a doctor appointment Tuesday morning.  When a medical professional you used to respect butchers you and then just sits back and gives you answers like "I don't know" and "I'm not sure" and "Just keep doing what you are doing because I don't know what else to tell you", you get frustrated.  Especially when said medical professional apparently has too much pride to refer you anywhere else "because no one else is going to do anything different".  And when you know you still more than likely have an infection in your body that somehow survived almost 18 weeks of antibiotics, six weeks of which were intravenous, you feel helpless.  Because antibiotics for a sinus infection?  Totally doable.  Devil antibiotics that you take for four months?  I can't even tell you how horrific.  I'm pretty sure they are eating holes through my esophagus and stomach as I type this. 

I literally could have went down to a Habitat For Humanity office and had some of those carpenters and volunteers give me a new knee in a totally non-sterile environment and I would have fared better.  Truth.  I am being turned over to an infectious disease doctor.  Which I am sure I need.  But I am terrified of needles.  And doctors too for that matter.  I know I have survived a million needle sticks this summer.  And I will survive the next ones.  But it terrifies me to think of seeing an infectious disease doctor and knowing that I will more than likely be seeing her for the rest of my life.  And that I will likely be taking antibiotics for years. 

Insurance responded to my appeal yesterday, telling me physical therapy is absolutely not medically necessary for me anymore.  So there goes that.  My insurance has already paid close to a half million dollars on my knee nightmare this year. I can't believe physical therapy is going to break them. Heck, I see PT as protecting their investment.  Maybe they'd like to pay for a Hoverround. Morons.  Or maybe they'd rather pay for more surgeries.  And if I have to have surgery again, the next one is a doozy.  It's a super duper fun two-part surgery in which my knee is removed completely and replaced with antibiotic-loaded bone cement. Yep, leaving me with no knee. Lovely, huh. Then a few months later, once the antibiotics have had time to wage war on the deep tissues of the knee, you have the second surgery to give you a new knee. Again.  Ohhhh and let's not forget that I'm out of FMLA for the year and have been told I will be fired if I have to have surgery again any time before spring of next year. Then I'd have no job and no insurance. No stress there.

And it turns out that I can't just get in to see another Orthopaedic doctor.  No one in the ortho field wants to mess with another doctors work.  I feel like a building that has been built faulty and some contractor doesn't want to come in and fix what another contractor screwed up.  The fact that I am a 39 year old human being who can't do much of anything matters to no one.  So....now I apply to have other doctors see me.  Yep, like an application process.  I have to send letters and medical records and all that great stuff.  The doctors review all of my records and then decide whether they will take me on as a patient.  Is this seriously what health care has come to in this country?  As a person who works and earns a decent living and pays insurance premiums, this shouldn't be happening!  It truly is criminal. 

I use an extension board many times a day that is killing me.  On a scale of 1-10, the pain is a solid 12.  I really feel like I can't do this for the rest of my life.  I dread every single day.  Every morning the first thing I think when my eyes pop open is "oh no, I have to use the torture device".  And I no joke think I have blacked out a couple of times while using it because the pain was so intense. 

Yes, I am thankful that I do not have cancer.  I am thankful that I don't have the countless other horrible diseases that people get.  I don't take my blessings for granted.  BUT I AM SO TIRED OF THIS.  I want a break.  I need a break.  I need for things to turn around before I literally lose my mind.  I have cried for four days straight and I really don't see an end to that in site. 

And I am sick to death of comments people make.  Pimp cane...not funny to me anymore.  Just makes me angry.  Having a total jackass at my workplace make the comment twice that "Amy can't take care of me.  Look at her.  She can't even walk.  She can't care of herself".  And other lovely people that I've ran across who say brilliant things like "Maybe you aren't doing enough exercises".  And my favorite, "if you were doing what you were supposed to be doing, you'd be better by now".  What in the bloody hell does that even mean?!  I guess everyone thinks I sit around like a fat loser eating cookies and not ever bothering with trying to get better.  Newsflash...All I do is try to get better.  I push myself to the breaking point every single day.  Technically if I'd sat around after surgery and not done a thing, I should be way better than I am right now.  And it never fails that when I'm having a truly ugly day, that's when someone makes one of these lovely comments and I have to play it off like everything is fine and on the inside I am totally crumbling. 

Maybe I am not strong.  Maybe I'm not.  Because I don't feel strong.  I feel like I am about to lose my mind.  I feel like I am truly at the end of my rope.  Right now as I type this I dread getting out of bed in the morning and starting all over again.  Because every single day hurts.  Every single day is a challenge.  Everyday I am frustrated by all the normal life things that I can no longer do.  But I will get up.  And I will try again.  And I will cry when no one is watching.  And sometimes I will cry when people are watching because I can't always hide it.  And I will pray.  Because I don't know what else there is for me to do.  But mostly, I wish I could wake-up tomorrow and just be the old Amy.  The one who could walk in a grocery store or a mall or pump her own gas.  The Amy who could hear a random song and bust out dancing.  I wish I could be the Amy who didn't feel left out because life is going on all around her and she can't be a participant.  I wish I could wake up tomorrow and have my old broken down bones and knee joint back.  I wish I could wake up and my knee wouldn't look like this...

But I will wear these scars like a Medal of Honor to show I'm stronger than what tried to take me down.  And I will wear some killer lipstick...because lipstick makes everything better.

My Handicapped Life....

So, it has been a little over four months since the terrorist attack on my knee.  I am quite depressed and I fight those feelings every single day.  But I also try to laugh off a lot of it.  Because if I didn't, I would lose my mind.  I could easily sit and cry all the time.  And since I spent about six weeks straight crying earlier in the summer, I have tried to move on to making jokes at my own expense when I can just to lighten my own mood. 

 I spent a lot of the summer high on Percocet, watching dust particles dance in sunbeams, crying, sweating Chanel No.5 (just kidding...I sweat something more along the lines of Bvlgari), throwing-up, and hallucinating things like Gilligan lying in my floor dead with half his face eaten off (true story...hallucinations from infection and pain ravaging your body are real). I didn't watch TV. I didn't read. I literally sat and stared at the wall all day everyday...and most nights too. Now I am on to figuring out how to do life while not really being able to walk. It's frustrating. It's tricky.  It's painful.  It's depressing. And let's be real, it's sometimes kind-of funny. 

Let me tell you, it's really hard to be a crippled princess.  There's nothing like not being able to put your pants on by yourself to strip you of your tiara.  At least now I can dress myself...and I can put my shoes and socks on all by myself again, thank you very much.  Silver linings.  I have learned the hard way that I can no longer wait until the last second to go pee...because I can't get anywhere fast.  If I have to pee really bad, I'm gonna pee my pants because it is gonna take me five minutes to get to the bathroom.  Peeing your pants at 39 years old...#adulting #winning.  At least I'm learning from my mistakes.  I have had to accept the fact that I can only take a shower sitting down (shower seats and shower head attachments, baby).  I have also learned to operate the scooters in the grocery store like a champ.  At first, I refused to use them.  But...sometimes you just have to go to the store yourself.  And lord knows I can't walk around a store.  So, I'm sure people see me and think "look at the fat, lazy girl with flawless make-up on the scooter".  Which is payback for all the times I've thought that about other people (except for the flawless make-up part).  Karma.  The first time I drove one, I crashed into the aisle containing pads and tampons and caused an avalanche.  For my next trick, I will need an assistant.

The last four months have been an eye-opening lesson in family and friendship.  When something bad happens to you, you find out pretty quickly who is gonna be there and who is MIA.  A lot of people I would have sworn would have been there were nowhere to be found and a lot of people I didn't expect to be there stepped up and helped me and prayed for me and sent me encouragement when I needed it most.  When you are stuck in the darkest of pits, someone sending you a nice message or surprising you with a visit can mean the whole world to you.  So for all of you who prayed for me and thought of me and did countless other kind things for me, thank you from the bottom of my heart.  For everyone else...Bye, Felecia.  Just kidding!  Really, I am totally kidding.

I've learned just how strong I am this summer.  I have done things that I didn't think in a million years I'd be able to do...like packing and unpacking the giant hole in my knee daily and administering IV antibiotics to myself for six weeks and taking care of my port myself.  I'm not squeamish about things with other people...but when it comes to doing things to yourself it's a whole different ballgame.  I'm terrified of needles but I've managed to have blood work 3,483 times (maybe a little less) without passing out.  Oh, and I survived having the port ripped out of my chest.  That was just an insane amount of fun. 

So I had a routine knee replacement that left me with a violent infection which in turn caused me to have another surgery which left me crippled.  And you know what?  While it has been the most horrific experience of my life, it has also been good for me.  Because I have learned what is important in life and what is not worth dwelling on or giving a second thought. Which is totally a lesson I needed to learn. Things I used to get upset about just don't matter to me anymore. The only things that truly matter in this life are God and your relationships with the people you love. Everything else is just background noise.  I truly, sincerely am thankful to this experience for teaching me that and for putting my priorities in check.  Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom to learn a lesson. 

I have no idea what the future holds for me, though I am almost positive it will involve more surgery  at some point.  I try not to think about it because it is scary and it makes me feel instantly nauseous.  I am 39 and I could be this way for life.  It's scary.  Plus, I've been told no surgeon will touch me again any time in the near future.  I have insane medical bills.  And I can't have surgery for at least another year because I used all of my FMLA for this year.  Oh and my physical therapy stopped a month ago when insurance deemed it no loner medically necessary.  Because, you know, not being able to walk isn't a medical problem worthy of treating.  Insurance sucks.  Jobs suck.  Yet, I am grateful I have both.  But seriously, can I get some Obamacare?  I don't know that I will ever walk normally again.  I don't know if I will ever see a day where I won't need a cane.  At least I can be thankful that I no longer have a walker.  That stripped me of all my pride.  Plus, CC would constantly sing "They see me rollin / They hatin" when I was puttering around with my walker.  Good times.  And a cane?  Well, I have figured out that a cane is good for lots of things...a microphone, a weapon, reaching things, etc.  And I am not above hooking it around someones neck...like, say, my doctor.  As a bonus, my cane is stylish...no plain black or sliver for this princess.  But the pimp jokes?  They are getting old.  :)

Now I'm off to strap my leg to the extension board (which, by the way, is another necessity insurance refuses to pay for...bastards) and weight it down with some super heavy weights.  And pop my never ending supply of antibiotics.  I should develop some fabulous superpowers any day now from taking antibiotics for 18 weeks.  At this point, I could probably survive a nuclear disaster!  But seriously, maybe my super power will be skin that never ages...

My Handicapped Life....

So, it has been a little over four months since the terrorist attack on my knee.  I am quite depressed and I fight those feelings every single day.  But I also try to laugh off a lot of it.  Because if I didn't, I would lose my mind.  I would sit and cry all the time.  And since I spent about six weeks straight crying earlier in the summer, I have tried to move on to making jokes at my own expense when I can just to lighten my own mood. 

 I spent a lot of the summer high on Percocet, watching dust particles dance in sunbeams, crying, sweating Chanel No.5 (just kidding...actually I sweat something more along the lines of Bvlgari...), throwing-up, and hallucinating things like Gilligan lying in my floor dead with half his face eaten off (true story...hallucinations from infection and pain ravaging your body are real). Now I am on to figuring out how to do life while not really being able to walk.  It's frustrating. It's depressing.  It's painful.  It's tricky. 

Let me tell you, it's really hard to be a crippled princess.  There's nothing like not being able to put your pants on by yourself to strip you of your tiara.  At least now I can dress myself...and I can put my shoes and socks on all by myself again, thank you very much.  Silver linings.  I have learned the hard way that I can no longer wait until the last second to go pee...because I can't get anywhere fast.  If I have to pee really bad, I'm gonna pee my pants because it is gonna take me five minutes to get to the bathroom.  Peeing your pants as a 39 year old...#adulting #winning.  I'm learning from my mistakes.  I have had to accept the fact that I can only take a shower sitting down (shower seats and shower head attachments, baby).  I have also learned to operate the scooters in the grocery store like a champ.  At first, I refused to use them.  But...sometimes you just have to do your own shopping.  And lord knows I can't walk around a store.  So, I'm sure people look at me and think "look at the fat, lazy girl on the scooter".  Which is payback for all the times I've thought that about other people.  Karma.  The first time I drove one, I crashed into the aisle containing pads and tampons and caused an avalanche.  For my next trick, I will need an assistant.

I have also had an eye-opening lesson in family and friendship.  When something bad happens to you, you find out pretty quickly who is gonna be there and who is MIA.  People you assume will be there are not and people you didn't realize would be there show up in a big way.  When you are stuck in the darkest of pits, someone sending you a nice message or surprising you with a visit can mean the whole world to you in that moment.  So for all of you who prayed for me and thought of me and did countless other kind things for me, thank you from the bottom of my heart.  For everyone else...Bye, Felecia.  Just kidding!  Really, I am totally kidding.  I have also learned what is important in life and what is not worth dwelling on or giving a second thought.  Things I used to get upset about just don't matter to me anymore.  The only things that truly matter in this life are God and your relationships with the people you love.  Everything else is just background noise. 

I have no idea what the future holds for me, though I am almost positive it will involve more surgery  at some point.  I try not to think about it because it is scary and it makes me feel instantly nauseous.  I am 39 and I could be this way for life.  It's scary.  Plus, I've been told no surgeon will touch me again any time in the near future.  I have insane medical bills.  And I can't have surgery for at least another year anyway because I have exhausted all of my FMLA for this year.  Oh and my physical therapy stopped a month ago when insurance deemed it no longer medically necessary.  Because, you know, not being able to walk isn't a medical problem worthy of treating.  Insurance sucks.  Jobs suck.  Yet, I am grateful I have both.  But seriously, can I get some Obamacare?  I don't know that I will ever walk normally again.  I don't know if I will ever see a day where I won't need a cane.  At least I can be thankful that I no longer have a walker.  That stripped me of all my pride.  Plus, CC would constantly sing "They see me rollin / They hatin" when I was puttering around with my walker.  Good times.  And a cane?  Well, I have figured out that a cane is good for lots of things...a microphone, a weapon, reaching things, etc.  And I am not above hooking it around someones neck...like, say, my doctor.   As a bonus, my cane is stylish...no plain black or sliver for this princess.

My Lesson in Humility.....

So, this is gonna be a tough thing for me to write about...because it was a tough thing for me to live.  I debated writing about it on my blog...because it isn't flattering to me AT ALL. It's actually quite embarrassing. But you guys know that I basically "keep things real"...and I feel there is a message to be shared with others in the lesson I learned.  So I'm going to tell you the details of one of the most nasty, mean-girl moments of my life.  If just one person takes away anything from the lesson I learned, then it will have been worth it for me to admit to you just what a nasty person I can apparently be. 

Basically, I was an ass. A huge one.  Some lessons we learn in life are very, very painful.  Even though we totally deserve them.  And even though they make us a much better person.  Some of us are so hard-headed (me), that it takes something huge to teach us anything.  This last Friday night, I learned one such lesson.  I needed it.  I'm thankful for it now.  And I can honestly say that I will forever be changed by it. 

My fiance and I were in Shoguns eating dinner.  We weren't seated at the hibachi grill...we sat in the dining room.  There were two young men seated at a table directly across from us.  They were most probably college students...I'd guess them to be around 21-22.  They were eating dinner and drinking beer.  Should I have ever paid them any attention at all?  No...because what other people do is none of my business.  Absolutely none of my business.  But...being the person I am, I looked over and noticed that the one directly across from me was sitting kind-of sideways and he kept looking over at us.  Normal people would have probably brushed that off and not thought a thing about it.  But being the jerk I am, I became quickly annoyed.  I could have just been annoyed and kept my mouth shut.   But if you know me, you know I never keep this big mouth shut.  It isn't something I'm proud of.  I started telling CC that this guy was some sort-of creepster.  CC is a genuinely great person and he told me that they weren't doing anything wrong and to just mind my own business and let it go.  But being the embarrassingly ugly person that I am, I couldn't let it go.  I kept staring back at him every time I felt him looking at me.  I don't remember giving him dirty looks...but I'm sure I did because my face, unfortunately, is very expressive and shows what I'm thinking.  In the 15-20 minutes I sat across from this guy, I made fun of his hair being in a "man bun".  I made fun of the fact that his shirt was unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest...I made the comment that I had more chest hair than him (I don't actually have chest hair, btw).  I told CC that I had decided that he was a computer hacker who lived in his mother's dark basement and experimented on human corpses as a hobby.  My reasoning for putting him in a dark basement was due to his extreme paleness.  Ummm....people don't get any paler than me!  I WAS WAY OUT OF LINE!!!  I'm not proud of myself and I'm in fact even embarrassed admitting what a nasty person I can be to those of you reading my blog. 

CC is a sweetheart.  He would have never even noticed this guy had I not been fussing for at least a solid 15 minutes instead of just enjoying dinner with my fiance.  Yes, he's a saint to put up with me.  After a while, even CC started to get a little guarded concerning this guy just because of MY problem with him. 

Fast forward, the guy and his companion pay their bill and stand to leave.  The one I had been talking about so horribly came to our table and reached his hand out to CC and said "ya'll have a good night".  Ok, I was confused.  Even CC was confused.  Because after all the staring back and forth, we couldn't understand where that had come from.  I thought maybe he was being a smart ass by saying that (yeah, I know...I'm a doll).  Now, I speak to strangers all the time and tell them "hello" and "have a nice day"...and that's okay.  But when a stranger who I deemed odd does it, I wonder what his angle is.  Less than three minutes after they walk out the door, our waitress comes over and says, "The gentleman at the table across from you paid for your dinner tonight and said to tell you to have a nice evening.  He was a great, great guy.  Super sweet".  I WAS SPEECHLESS.  And I instantly felt lower than I've ever felt at any point in my life.  I had tears in my eyes.  I thought I was going to throw-up.  This guy picked up our $50 check.  And I had been nothing but ugly.  I can't even describe to you how I felt on the inside.  I instantly dropped my head and began to pray...I prayed for forgiveness, I prayed for blessings on that guy and I prayed that God make me a better person.  And I thanked God for putting me in check.  What a painful, painful lesson to learn.  I pushed my plate away and couldn't eat anymore simply because I felt physically ill because I had been such a wretched, horrible person. 

I judged someone.  For no reason.  I talked about someone.  For no reason.  I made fun of someone.  For no reason.  A person I didn't know.  A person who was obviously very kind.  A person who didn't deserve the things I had said about him and thought about him.  This is what I learned...to keep my mouth shut.  No one I ever cross paths with in this life deserves my judgment or deserves being made fun of or talked about.  This was a stranger with good intentions.  And it got me thinking, I run my big mouth about the silliest things...About the person with too many groceries in their cart in the check-out line, about someone cutting me off in traffic, about someone walking too slow in a parking lot.   I do not know the hearts of those people and I do not know their circumstances.  I am no better than anyone else and I am positive I do my fair share to annoy people myself. 

I have paid for strangers meals before in restaurants and at drive-throughs.  I love being on the giving end of random acts of kindness.  But I've never had anyone do that for me.  And for it to happen in the way that it did taught me one of the biggest lessons of my life.  To shut up.  Just shut my mouth.  I spent a lot of time praying Friday night.  And this is the one thing that kept coming to mind over and over again....





 

 

I have never considered myself one to think I'm better than others.  I've never considered myself to be judgmental.  I know I've blogged about how I hate those things in the past.  But obviously I am both of those things.  And clearly I have a long way to go.  I learned such a valuable lesson this weekend.  And it was the most painful lesson I've ever learned.  I'm still pained and humiliated by my actions.  But I will be better in the future for what a young stranger in Murray taught me this weekend.  And I hope my path crosses with his again someday so I can tell him what a great lesson he taught me and how I have become a better person because of it. 

 

 

 



What I Do Best....

I start blog posts all the time and don't finish them.  I have dozens in my folder that I saved and never bothered to hit the publish button.  I know I don't ever have anything important to say.  But I do generally like to blog, even though I sometimes struggle for things to blog about.  Today I am going to do what comes easiest for me....just ramble.  Being random is what I do best.  This week I will undergo surgery on both hands/wrists and so I will be unable to type for some time.  I wanted to blog just because I don't know when I will get to again.  :)

So.....lets be random!

1).  Promposals.  Ummm...are you kidding me??  I have been seeing these on social media a lot lately.  I am so confused by the idiocy of this.  I know I am old (I mean, I AM rocking out to the 90's station while I type this).  But when did this become a trend!  It is absolutely, truly, unequivocally the dumbest thing I have ever seen.  I don't think it's sweet.  I don't think it's cute.  Ask a boy to the prom...ask a girl to the prom.  But just ask!  It's a dance for crying out loud.  Not a life-changing event.  It doesn't warrant fanfare, I promise you.  Something is clearly wrong with our society.  I am really riled up about this.  I am old-fashioned.  To me this makes marriage proposals look trivial.  And a marriage proposal should be the most important proposal you get...because marriage is life-changing.  Surely to goodness I am not the only one deeply disturbed by this.  I would say that kids are just kids and being stupid is what they do.  But I am positive the parents are equally as guilty.  Thank God above that I don't have children.  Because I look like an ass enough on my own without having a kid that I feel the need to "live through". 

2).  Luke Bryan.  Okay, I'm about to say something that will not be popular with a lot of people.  BUT....he sucks.  He sounds like he is singing with his nose pinched closed while inside a barrel which is inside a phone booth.  And I know, I don't have to listen to him.  And I don't.  Ever.  But then he committed this unfathomable sin.  He sang a Lionel Richie song in the tribute they did for him the other night on the Grammys (which I just got around to watching last night).  Now, all those people up there singing Lionel Richie should have been smacked...He is Lionel Freaking Richie, for crying out loud.  Just give him the microphone!  But Luke Bryan slaughtered that song.  Did anyone else who watched see the look on Lionel's face when Luke Bryan was singing?  I translated the look on his face to say, "holy shit"...and not in a good way.  If I were him, when I went up on the stage to sing, I would have taken my microphone and smacked Luke Bryan in the head with it hard enough to make the rest of the tribute singers fall like domino's.  But that's just me.  Which I'm sure is why God didn't given me talent...

3).  Nude Lipstick.  I know it's the trend.  Mark me down for non-trendy.  I think people look dead when they have on nude lipstick.  I'm not talking about the pinky-shades that could pass for your lip color...those are great.  I'm talking about all those tanish and ultra-pale pink colors that truly make people look sick.  I see make-up artists rave about nude lips all the time on YouTube and I see it in magazines and read about how fabulous they are on blogs.  You might as well be wearing concealer on your lips.  Ugh.  They are grotesque.  Stop. 

4).  Bae and Boo.  I don't have a "bae".  I don't have a "boo".  And neither do you.  You want to instantly drop your IQ by 75 points?  And lets be honest, that would put some of you in the negative category.

5).  Pinterest.  Now this topic deserves its very own blog post.  I love Pinterest.  I don't get on there very often.  But I find it useful for recipes.  Its great.  BUT.....people have completely gone bonkers with it.  No child  has an ordinary birthday party anymore.  Every parent pins these elaborate birthday parties for their children.  Every bride pins these fairytale weddings.  No one can just go and have pictures made...they must first pin all the poses they want.  Every holiday party table setting must first be Pinterest-approved.  Pinterest is a great place to get ideas for things.  But why is everyone suddenly trying to "out-Pinterest" each other.  No child needs a fancy three-layer birthday cake.  Come on, that's not for the child.  That's for YOU, the parent.  The world of Pinterest has warped people.  Life has become this grand competition.  I promise you that your children would be just as happy having a Wal-Mart bakery cake in your backyard.  Reality check, people.  Our parents didn't have Pinterest when we were growing up and I'm sure all your birthday parties were spectacular in your eyes.  Because it was your day.  And that's what made it special.  Not things.  Not decorations.  The Pinterest world you create for your children isn't realistic.  I'm pretty sure it doesn't make them happier children...it will just make them more screwed up adults when they figure out that the world doesn't roll out the red carpet for them.  And I don't care if you have the fanciest place-settings on Christmas Day or if you bought paper plates on sale at Hobby Lobby (which is what I personally do)...and I guarantee your family and guests don't care either.  The older I have gotten,the more I have adopted a minimalist approach to life.  And guess what?  Less really is more. 

Well, my "boos" (ha!), I am signing off.  No more typing for me for a while.  Hopefully by the time I am able to blog again, I will be loaded with things to talk about.  :)

My Old Age....

How did I get so old!  I swear I feel like it should still be 1997 and I should still be young.  Now people call me ma'am.  It is so depressing.  My body has totally betrayed me in ways that I never thought it could. 

1).  Wrinkles.  Ohhhh the wrinkles.  I don't feel like they are out of hand...yet.  Probably because I don't expose myself to sun.  But there are still some there.  I always expected to have wrinkles around my eyes and of course the giant forehead crevice.  But the wrinkles that bother me most I never saw coming.  And they aren't so much wrinkles as lines.  Above my top lip.  Anyone else have these?  They are lines that run horizontal above my top lip.  And they wouldn't be so noticeable except my lipstick bleeds into them.  I read that using lip liner would stop the color from bleeding up into the lines.  It didn't work for me.  So then I bought a lip primer.  It works a little...but not great.  So if you see me with red lipstick on and you suddenly think I may have a slight nose bleed...my nose isn't bleeding.  It's the red lipstick bleeding into my lines all the way up to my nose.  It's humiliating.  I thought only smokers got those lines.  Wrong. 

2).  Vision.  I used to have perfect vision.  Now I can't see anything without my glasses on.  And contact lenses?  Forget about it.  Because old age also brought along with it a condition known as chronic dry eye.  So contacts turn to paper mache and feel like sand in my eye...no matter how many eye drops I use. 

3).  Chin hair.  Yes, chin hair.  I could probably join some circus side show as a bearded lady.  Where did this hair come from!  No one warned me about this as a youngster.  Chin hair is a very real problem.  I swear to you that I can have no chin hair in the morning and by the afternoon have some hairs that are two inches long.  I keep tweezers in the console of my car so that I can pluck away while I'm sitting there in the natural light (because chin hair shows up best in natural light).  Some are so long that I don't even need to use a mirror to see them!  And my fear is that when I have surgery on my hands this weeks, I won't be able to operate tweezers for a few weeks.  Do you know what I will look like by then?!  Geez.  My chain hairs will be able to signal low-flying planes.  I'll be able to hang laundry from them.  I'll be able to floss with them. 

4).  Weight.  I always heard people say that it becomes harder to lose weight the older you get.  I never really paid too much attention to that.  Well, I should have.  Because apparently my body is nice and comfy with its extra layers of fluff and doesn't want to give them up.  Of course, the Funyuns I ate for lunch play a role.  And so do the pancakes I ate for breakfast.  I don't want to eat like a responsible adult.  I want to eat like a college kid.  But every time I get on the scale it groans and coughs and sputters.  Shedding pounds is the hardest, most frustrating thing there is. 

5).  Incontinence.  Yeah, I went there.  And no, I don't just randomly pee on myself.  But if you make me laugh too hard or if I sneeze too hard, it could happen.  A couple of months ago I was sitting at work when a huge sneeze crept up on me.  I text my best friend and another close friend who were both just down the hall "well, I just peed on myself".  Hey, it happens.  I say if it happens to you, it's best to just own it. 

6).  Joint pain.  I hurt.  Everyday.  And I'm probably going to finally get brave and have my knees replaced this fall.  I've been putting if off for years.  But, I fell last Friday and it made me realize that I couldn't keep putting it off.  And speaking of falling, you know all those "I've fallen and I can't get up commercials" we have all been making fun of for 25 years?  Well, it turns out that sometimes you do fall and you can't get up.  So this is my shout out to the invention of cell phones and my sister...both of which are the reason why I'm not still laying in my bedroom floor crying. 

The age of 39 is creeping up on me.  I can't believe I will be 40 next year.  Wow.  It feels so weird to even type that.  I'm sure my 40-year-old chin hairs will be much thicker and coarser and longer than my 38-year-old chin hairs. 

But...there is always wine! :)