When you are TCC (trying to conceive) there is this funny little game you play with yourself to help you not break your own heart every month. You don't play it at first. At first you allow yourself the truest sense of hope every month. It's free and powerful and joyful and awesome. Every month you think, "I could be pregnant this month" and the emphasis is on the "COULD BE". There is the hope and the chance and the possibility of the "COULD BE". It sits in your heart and your head and you may eagerly await the pee stick if you get past a certain day on your luteal phase count. It can put a spring to your step or a smile on your face. You may start thinking of yourself in the sense of being a Mom because you COULD BE. Then, if you have a Day 1 (the start of your menstrual cycle), you are crushed and broken and suddenly you feel like you have lost your identity. After all, yesterday you could be a mom and today holds no such "could be"s for you.
I was blessed in that I knew many many years before I had ever met my husband, let alone try to get pregnant, that I may not be able to get pregnant. When I didn't follow my dr's advice, it wasn't because I didn't trust their medical opinion. It was because they were all suggesting that, out of fear of infertility, that I should grab the nearest sperm donor and get pregnant immediately. "Hey, you are a 20yr old college kid, forget all your life plans and get pregnant now so that when you are ready to have a husband and family and all that, well, you won't have missed out on getting pregnant and you can feel fulfilled in your life." I'm paraphrasing, but that's the gist of what I was told by many drs. Most of you know my enthusiasm towards the medical profession. Instead of working from a place of fear, I chose instead to believe that it's always God's plan and what's best for the kidlets that a child should be born in a happy and healthy 2 parent home. I chose to wait until I was married to start trying to get pregnant.
As with everything that has to do with my health, I had to fight the drs in order to be seen by a specialist. Then, it turns out that I was still only being given half the picture so I started reading up. So much information is available for us women and they never volunteer it in the schools or the drs office. Such a loss of time, precious time, since we weren't timing things correctly and didn't have a clue about the signals the body gives you that it's a great time for some private time with your husband! I have long suspected that drs get nervous when you know at least as much about your body as they are supposed to know. I'll make time to write about that in the near future.
So, for the past few months we've been trying Clomid. It's kind of crazy but my side effects have been pretty minimal. It's increased the number of eggs I'm going to ovulate that cycle but so far no one has gotten overly excited. I think that the size of the eggs are still not what they have been hoping to see. They even made me come in for the hormone blood workup I was avoiding during tax season. This month has been a crazy crazy time. Especially the last few weeks. Long story short, I felt certain that my stress levels were high enough that I may be delaying ovulation this cycle. I warned the Dr about that when I went in for my ultrasound. I didn't want her to give me their "Worried eyes". Today was a new Dr so I didn't know what to expect. However, she got all excited when she found my first ovary. A really good size egg and a smaller one. Hurray!! When she glided over to the other ovary she got even more excited!! At this point even I'm getting a little excited. She found a bigger egg on the other ovary, along with a smaller one. She was super impressed that I had an egg that size considering how far along I am in the cycle.
For about 30 minutes I enjoyed a happiness and joy that I haven't had in months. I enjoyed hope!! Then my more cautious side reminded me to not enjoy the happiness and hope too much lest I also suffer thru a broken heart in another 2 weeks. This is the negotiations you go thru when you are TCC. Part of you wants to throw a party and another part of you wants to go into lock-down so that you can keep it private and not have to share your pain with a bunch of people. The other part of you just wants to forget you even know you are ovulating and get on with daily life. It's kind of this crazy dance between you, yourself and you.
For the record, I'm tired of reasonable hope. It's a hope that is allowed in but either just for a short time or as a lesser version of it's true self. Unfortunately, the broken heart at the end of the cycle can threaten to overwhelm and take over. God didn't make us to only be sort of joyful. He meant for us to be filled with his joy and peace and calmness. It's hard to focus on just that when you also have the voices of the people around you demanding your attention. Drs and bosses and frenemies and on and on. I wish I had even just one day where I feel like I could clear my head and just focus on God and what He's trying to tell me.
So, reasonable hope won out for today. I'm excited about the 2 eggs that are huge and even excited about the 2 smaller eggs that may come a few days later. However, I'm not going to dedicate several days of my life to just be sad if things don't work out. I don't see how that helps and really just keeps me in a dark place that would be hard to get out of without some help. Some days I feel like a crazy person just trying to walk the line between "AWESOME" and "THAT SUCKS". Some days I'm glad for whatever hope I have to hold on to.
Today I firmly held on to my reasonable hope but tonight when I dream . . . who knows what COULD BE!!
Friday, September 3, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Making peace with water
We aren't vain people, not in the sense that we want to look good for everyone else. We have both gained some weight while living here and we really don't like what we see in the mirror. Our clothes don't fit, our faces don't fit, our sense of self doesn't fit. It's not where we'd like to be. So, we delve into some crazy and some sane ideas in getting healthier.
Our craziest, so far, is a juicing detox. We did it for the full 21 days the first time. However, that got to be too much. Juicing takes a lot of time and energy. When you haven't had any food-food all day? That's energy that's best spent doing something else. That was almost 2yrs ago. The up-side? We felt lighter and in less pain and it blew our minds. However, the book we read that instructed us on the detox did more than set out a diet plan. It got into label reading and chemicals and natural foods and really taking a look at that "mac-n-cheese" we bought in a box as opposed to making it from scratch. Who knew such basic meals took so many chemicals just to add a cheese flavor. Those of you who know me know that I take my cheese very very serious. Fake cheese should be banned!!
One of the first things I noticed was that pop (soda) didn't taste the same and I didn't enjoy it the way I did before. Not good since tax season would be upon me not long after that first detox. We are trying to get pregnant but for 2 weeks out of every cycle I could enjoy the bubbly sugar water offer with every can of Cherry Coke. Caffeine was never important to me but I tried to cut it out as we looked for things to "fix" in our TCC. One a side not: I had prayed for a few years that I would be delivered from my "addiction" to chocolate. During that next tax season I got the flu. Bad. Unlike anything I had seen in over 20yrs. THAT kind of flu. One of the last things I ate before I got sick was chocolate. It didn't make me as happy as it used to (thanks to the detox) but it was a useful tool when I was sad or anxious. So, last in first out. Done with chocolate and caffeinated pop all together. Thank you Lord!!! Horrible but effective!
I also started to drink more water at that point. Unwillingly. Begrudgingly. Slowly.
Next detox was only for 10 days. This time the uncaffeinated, clear pop caused an issue. When you start eliminating things from your diet then you start noticing sensitivities. Holy Cow my sinuses would swell up and cause such a headache! Wow Oh Wow!!!! So, toss that out. Not that you need it, but what was I gonna drink???? *searching searching searching* Lemonade!! We eat out often enough that I was concerned about what I'd have to drink because I'm really picky about the water I drink. Then I read the labels on some of the lemonade. Um, how can they call this lemonade??? 0% juice???? What am I ingesting??? UGH!!
However, this most recent detox, only for 7 days, pushed me over the edge with the water. Yes, I have my specific water that I prefer. No it's not a froo-froo brand. It's Target's "Market Pantry" brand and I love it! However, how'd I go from a cherry coke drinking fiend to a water guzzling health nut?? That one is still to be figured out. It's a new me and I'm not sure what to make of it.
So, in conclusion: I drink water more than anything else available and I like it!
Ta-Da!!
Our craziest, so far, is a juicing detox. We did it for the full 21 days the first time. However, that got to be too much. Juicing takes a lot of time and energy. When you haven't had any food-food all day? That's energy that's best spent doing something else. That was almost 2yrs ago. The up-side? We felt lighter and in less pain and it blew our minds. However, the book we read that instructed us on the detox did more than set out a diet plan. It got into label reading and chemicals and natural foods and really taking a look at that "mac-n-cheese" we bought in a box as opposed to making it from scratch. Who knew such basic meals took so many chemicals just to add a cheese flavor. Those of you who know me know that I take my cheese very very serious. Fake cheese should be banned!!
One of the first things I noticed was that pop (soda) didn't taste the same and I didn't enjoy it the way I did before. Not good since tax season would be upon me not long after that first detox. We are trying to get pregnant but for 2 weeks out of every cycle I could enjoy the bubbly sugar water offer with every can of Cherry Coke. Caffeine was never important to me but I tried to cut it out as we looked for things to "fix" in our TCC. One a side not: I had prayed for a few years that I would be delivered from my "addiction" to chocolate. During that next tax season I got the flu. Bad. Unlike anything I had seen in over 20yrs. THAT kind of flu. One of the last things I ate before I got sick was chocolate. It didn't make me as happy as it used to (thanks to the detox) but it was a useful tool when I was sad or anxious. So, last in first out. Done with chocolate and caffeinated pop all together. Thank you Lord!!! Horrible but effective!
I also started to drink more water at that point. Unwillingly. Begrudgingly. Slowly.
Next detox was only for 10 days. This time the uncaffeinated, clear pop caused an issue. When you start eliminating things from your diet then you start noticing sensitivities. Holy Cow my sinuses would swell up and cause such a headache! Wow Oh Wow!!!! So, toss that out. Not that you need it, but what was I gonna drink???? *searching searching searching* Lemonade!! We eat out often enough that I was concerned about what I'd have to drink because I'm really picky about the water I drink. Then I read the labels on some of the lemonade. Um, how can they call this lemonade??? 0% juice???? What am I ingesting??? UGH!!
However, this most recent detox, only for 7 days, pushed me over the edge with the water. Yes, I have my specific water that I prefer. No it's not a froo-froo brand. It's Target's "Market Pantry" brand and I love it! However, how'd I go from a cherry coke drinking fiend to a water guzzling health nut?? That one is still to be figured out. It's a new me and I'm not sure what to make of it.
So, in conclusion: I drink water more than anything else available and I like it!
Ta-Da!!
Friday, May 21, 2010
Exhaustion
Tax season is over and I'm thrilled for that. It tends to suck the very life out of you. Every year, 1/3 of my life gets signed over to "the company". That isn't an exaggeration because I spend most of my waking hours at the office. When I am home, the few precious hours I get a break, are spent inhaling food and rubbing sore limbs. The human body was never meant to sit at a desk for 8hrs a day, let alone 12 or 13. When I lay my head down for some much needed sleep, it's not the same because I'm tossing and turning between the sore joints and my "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh did I finish A, B or C? Did the client get X, Y or Z in the mail on time? Who's going to yell at me tomorrow?????????????" That never makes for restful sleep.
So, May is usually the month to unwind and get my life back. I look forward to May. I'm not keen on cleaning my house but by the time we get to May, it's well over due. I get to bake. I get to cook with more than 20 min. I can sleep in on a Saturday. It also means that summer is around the corner and that means the beach and heavy air in the evenings and visits to Busch Gardens. Yeah!!!
This tax season, tho, was harder than all but one other tax season in the last 6. I'm old enough to know that I'm not a spring chicken any more and that some things just drain me more than they used to. This year, tho, I got a slap in the face about my health. Oh, sure, I've waved off the tension headaches and dutifully went to the Dr at my husband's demands to make him feel better that my chest pains were nothing more than stress. No problem *waves hands dismissively* I'm not worried about those things. Did I ever have those reactions to stress before? Nope, but it's an annual thing now for the past few years. I have a strong heart and I have headaches all the time. Easy to blow those signals off. This year, tho, I agreed to do something I had waved off last year. This year I allowed ultrasounds to happen so that we were on top of things when tax season was over. This year I cried and felt fear about my stress. This year I was truly scared that I'd end up in the hospital before tax season was over. This tax season I didn't ovulate 3 of the 4 possible cycles I had during tax season. Which is a bitch since I still had pains on day 1 and my temp sort of shifted so that made me doubt what I was doing charting. This is like a man only creating sperm 1 out of every 4 days. Let's just drop the sperm productivity by 75% and see how that works out. Are you kidding me??????
No one freaked out at me but I could tell they were waiting to see my reaction. As they swept back and forth with the wand, double checking themselves in case they missed an egg, calling in a co-worker to confirm what they already know. They would then look at me and size me up for a second. I had already guessed that was going on and so when I saw their apprehension and hesitation I felt obligated to help them. I said it first. "No eggs? Is that what you are talking about?" For them, the tension left the room at that moment. I wasn't going to cry, wasn't going to get hysterical, wasn't going to get mad. For me, the blood rushed in my ears, sparkles popped up in front of my eyes, the air left my lungs. I reassured them as quickly as possible knowing that they'd want to leave the room as fast as possible. Fine, go! That gives me a few minutes to collect my thoughts while I pretend to get dressed. I lose my balance and feel dizzy and my limbs feel very heavy in that moment. About the point that I feel that I'm taking too long to get dressed and they'll start to worry about me, I throw my clothes and a smile on and leave. I don't want their clinical sympathy. I don't want a lecture on my body. Really, what I don't want to hear them say is, "we should check your hormones to make sure you aren't perimenopausal" They are trying not to say it. I'm 37 and for them 38 is some magical line in the sand. I am not so worried because my mom gave birth at 43 without any help. When my hormones have been checked, there is no sign of menopause. So, I'm trying not to consider that and I sure don't want to hear it out of their mouths either. KEEP THAT TO YOURSELF because I have enough on my plate.
Much like a favorite blanket, I cling to the idea that before the next tax season I will be allowed to leave this job and get my life back. We had a hiccup and so our steps away from here may not start again until August, but even if our current plan falls thru, the idea that I won't go thru another tax season here is my desperate hope. I also know that it's very likely that staying at this job is our last obstacle to getting pregnant. UGH!!
So, the current end to tax season came with much joy when I found out that I was ovulating. However, all of it just drags on me and I swear I could sleep for a week if given the chance. I just don't think that will help me feel less exhausted. I have given permission to a job to suck the life out of me, to place fear at the top of my list of states of being every day, to let them help me feel like a failure time and again, to not do a thing to help me feel like this is a safe environment. I'm done and tired and sick of the fight. I hear my dad's voice in my head that I'm supposed to be a good citizen at all times and fight the good fight. I'm just too tired to care right now *yawn*
So, May is usually the month to unwind and get my life back. I look forward to May. I'm not keen on cleaning my house but by the time we get to May, it's well over due. I get to bake. I get to cook with more than 20 min. I can sleep in on a Saturday. It also means that summer is around the corner and that means the beach and heavy air in the evenings and visits to Busch Gardens. Yeah!!!
This tax season, tho, was harder than all but one other tax season in the last 6. I'm old enough to know that I'm not a spring chicken any more and that some things just drain me more than they used to. This year, tho, I got a slap in the face about my health. Oh, sure, I've waved off the tension headaches and dutifully went to the Dr at my husband's demands to make him feel better that my chest pains were nothing more than stress. No problem *waves hands dismissively* I'm not worried about those things. Did I ever have those reactions to stress before? Nope, but it's an annual thing now for the past few years. I have a strong heart and I have headaches all the time. Easy to blow those signals off. This year, tho, I agreed to do something I had waved off last year. This year I allowed ultrasounds to happen so that we were on top of things when tax season was over. This year I cried and felt fear about my stress. This year I was truly scared that I'd end up in the hospital before tax season was over. This tax season I didn't ovulate 3 of the 4 possible cycles I had during tax season. Which is a bitch since I still had pains on day 1 and my temp sort of shifted so that made me doubt what I was doing charting. This is like a man only creating sperm 1 out of every 4 days. Let's just drop the sperm productivity by 75% and see how that works out. Are you kidding me??????
No one freaked out at me but I could tell they were waiting to see my reaction. As they swept back and forth with the wand, double checking themselves in case they missed an egg, calling in a co-worker to confirm what they already know. They would then look at me and size me up for a second. I had already guessed that was going on and so when I saw their apprehension and hesitation I felt obligated to help them. I said it first. "No eggs? Is that what you are talking about?" For them, the tension left the room at that moment. I wasn't going to cry, wasn't going to get hysterical, wasn't going to get mad. For me, the blood rushed in my ears, sparkles popped up in front of my eyes, the air left my lungs. I reassured them as quickly as possible knowing that they'd want to leave the room as fast as possible. Fine, go! That gives me a few minutes to collect my thoughts while I pretend to get dressed. I lose my balance and feel dizzy and my limbs feel very heavy in that moment. About the point that I feel that I'm taking too long to get dressed and they'll start to worry about me, I throw my clothes and a smile on and leave. I don't want their clinical sympathy. I don't want a lecture on my body. Really, what I don't want to hear them say is, "we should check your hormones to make sure you aren't perimenopausal" They are trying not to say it. I'm 37 and for them 38 is some magical line in the sand. I am not so worried because my mom gave birth at 43 without any help. When my hormones have been checked, there is no sign of menopause. So, I'm trying not to consider that and I sure don't want to hear it out of their mouths either. KEEP THAT TO YOURSELF because I have enough on my plate.
Much like a favorite blanket, I cling to the idea that before the next tax season I will be allowed to leave this job and get my life back. We had a hiccup and so our steps away from here may not start again until August, but even if our current plan falls thru, the idea that I won't go thru another tax season here is my desperate hope. I also know that it's very likely that staying at this job is our last obstacle to getting pregnant. UGH!!
So, the current end to tax season came with much joy when I found out that I was ovulating. However, all of it just drags on me and I swear I could sleep for a week if given the chance. I just don't think that will help me feel less exhausted. I have given permission to a job to suck the life out of me, to place fear at the top of my list of states of being every day, to let them help me feel like a failure time and again, to not do a thing to help me feel like this is a safe environment. I'm done and tired and sick of the fight. I hear my dad's voice in my head that I'm supposed to be a good citizen at all times and fight the good fight. I'm just too tired to care right now *yawn*
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Secrets of Joys and Fears
I have a "secret". It's not really a secret but I'm not telling everyone what happened yesterday. It's not a big deal to anyone but those closest to me. It's a huge deal for me. Still, the ramifications are huge if I tell the whole world and then find out that the glee of yesterday doesn't extend thru the next few weeks. Plus, logic dictates that the odds are against us and therefore I need to keep a level head.
However, why I don't tell is different for different people.
I don't tell most of the people at work because I don't want 1000 questions in a couple of weeks when I may be sad. I also don't want the 1000 questions if it's good news and I'm not ready to share that good news with the world. Plus, I don't feel safe around most of these people and therefore I don't feel like letting them in to this very private time. I've told a couple of key people but I know they won't share that information with anyone else. Even if I just told the people I didn't mind at work, word would pass and I'd get comments and, well, I've decided not to share. Not like they really care anyways so what difference does it make to them? Except when they find out they weren't on the "to be told" list but I'll deal with that later if I get to.
We are open with family because we know that they are praying for us and it's good to keep them updated on the latest and greatest. It helps them to feel a part of all this and it reminds them to keep up the prayers. That usually leads to encouraging sentiments and those are always appreciated.
Some friends get told as a point of fact. "Hey, we did X the other day, just so you know" and they roll with that information and it's all good. Some friends are not told because they are in an emotionally unhappy place and it would be more harmful then helpful. I have a friend who got put on bedrest for the last month of her pregnancy and was scared. I waited until I found out that she gave birth and all was fantastic for mother and child. I have another friend who is going on this trek with me and is having the same success I am and she's very sad right now. I might birth a child and still not tell her! A friend is worried about her and so now I'm worried about her. She doesn't need to know about X right now and if it doesn't work in a couple of weeks, then I've done no harm in keeping that information from her. Could she figure it out on my FB page? Probably, but I'm not going to specifically point it out to her. For what purpose?
And those become the secrets of our joys and fears. We have things that go on in our lives that we can't share with the whole world. Some of us are sharers and that's just how we are. To not tell someone close to us about something major just about puts us over the edge. It's so natural to open my mouth and spill the beans. It's like telling me to think about breathing the next time I feel the uncontrolled desire to expand my lungs and suck in oxygen. Do I really need that breath? Will it hurt anyone if I do breath? I know that's silly but that's about the size of it when you consider the gears that have to be changed in my head. Good news? Bad news? Completely inconsequencial information that is huge to me but has no ramifications on anyone else? Doesn't matter!
The stupid part is that it dampens the highs and lowers the lows when a sharer can't share. Why? because we are social creatures. We are built and created to live and thrive in a social setting. Not just sharers, but everyone! To some extent, we all have the urge to share what is going on in our lives with another and get validation that who we are matters. That we aren't just a cellular being floating around with other cellular beings and no one interacts with one another and no one cares. My name is Cyndi and I matter to some people!
So, I keep some secrets and hold them close when I interact with certain people. Sometimes out of love and concern and sometimes out of self-preservation. If something comes of X then I'll change how I go about telling more people. Until then? It's probably best to keep this info to myself. It helps me to not get my hopes up just yet. Sound depressing? Nope, it's just logical.
However, why I don't tell is different for different people.
I don't tell most of the people at work because I don't want 1000 questions in a couple of weeks when I may be sad. I also don't want the 1000 questions if it's good news and I'm not ready to share that good news with the world. Plus, I don't feel safe around most of these people and therefore I don't feel like letting them in to this very private time. I've told a couple of key people but I know they won't share that information with anyone else. Even if I just told the people I didn't mind at work, word would pass and I'd get comments and, well, I've decided not to share. Not like they really care anyways so what difference does it make to them? Except when they find out they weren't on the "to be told" list but I'll deal with that later if I get to.
We are open with family because we know that they are praying for us and it's good to keep them updated on the latest and greatest. It helps them to feel a part of all this and it reminds them to keep up the prayers. That usually leads to encouraging sentiments and those are always appreciated.
Some friends get told as a point of fact. "Hey, we did X the other day, just so you know" and they roll with that information and it's all good. Some friends are not told because they are in an emotionally unhappy place and it would be more harmful then helpful. I have a friend who got put on bedrest for the last month of her pregnancy and was scared. I waited until I found out that she gave birth and all was fantastic for mother and child. I have another friend who is going on this trek with me and is having the same success I am and she's very sad right now. I might birth a child and still not tell her! A friend is worried about her and so now I'm worried about her. She doesn't need to know about X right now and if it doesn't work in a couple of weeks, then I've done no harm in keeping that information from her. Could she figure it out on my FB page? Probably, but I'm not going to specifically point it out to her. For what purpose?
And those become the secrets of our joys and fears. We have things that go on in our lives that we can't share with the whole world. Some of us are sharers and that's just how we are. To not tell someone close to us about something major just about puts us over the edge. It's so natural to open my mouth and spill the beans. It's like telling me to think about breathing the next time I feel the uncontrolled desire to expand my lungs and suck in oxygen. Do I really need that breath? Will it hurt anyone if I do breath? I know that's silly but that's about the size of it when you consider the gears that have to be changed in my head. Good news? Bad news? Completely inconsequencial information that is huge to me but has no ramifications on anyone else? Doesn't matter!
The stupid part is that it dampens the highs and lowers the lows when a sharer can't share. Why? because we are social creatures. We are built and created to live and thrive in a social setting. Not just sharers, but everyone! To some extent, we all have the urge to share what is going on in our lives with another and get validation that who we are matters. That we aren't just a cellular being floating around with other cellular beings and no one interacts with one another and no one cares. My name is Cyndi and I matter to some people!
So, I keep some secrets and hold them close when I interact with certain people. Sometimes out of love and concern and sometimes out of self-preservation. If something comes of X then I'll change how I go about telling more people. Until then? It's probably best to keep this info to myself. It helps me to not get my hopes up just yet. Sound depressing? Nope, it's just logical.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Being home sick
For the record, you know you hate your job to the n-th degree when you'd rather be at home, sick as a dog, then go to the office.
I just wish I wasn't so sick that I couldn't do something enjoyable while I was at home =P
I just wish I wasn't so sick that I couldn't do something enjoyable while I was at home =P
Inked
Leaving the midwest for the sunny western coast is a huge transition. I wasn't quite 17 yet when I did it. I wasn't a loner back home but I sure wasn't anyone's version of the popular girl. I grew up tall and had a girl's version of my adult body by the time I was 14. I was never embarrassed about my height but the same couldn't be said about how I saw the shape of my body. No boy wants to date soft and fleshy girls. Well, there are some but they typically aren't the healthiest choices for young girls. Or was that just my lucky streak with the boys? I'll leave that to be argued at a later time.
I had only seen east LA on the TV and I thought it best to keep my head down for the year I was there. Senior year is already kind of crazy and I was the new kid on the block. I didn't know their lingo or their mannerisms. Quickly I became known as the tall blonde from the midwest. Their view of their counterparts from the frozen tundra in the middle of the country was very rural, country and hayseed. Regardless of who I was, my outsides screamed Swedish farm girl. *shrug*
So, I figured out that my accent identified me straight off. It's been 20 years since I lived back home and yet people pick up on it right away. It was considered "cute" in the west. Something that made me unique and since it's always desirable to be unique it was sort of an advantage. People remembered me as the tall, blonde girl with the quirky accent. However, when you want to be considered something OTHER than cute and safe you try really hard to create a new persona and put it out there. No one bought it. Not really. I just looked like a cute girl going thru a phase. So, I pondered some more and ,with the encouragement of a friend back home, I took a huge plunge. What could really show everyone that I wasn't some cute girl from the midwest but some bad ass girl living in the wild west? A TATTOO!! Yes, despite my fears of needles (at that point, fear doesn't quite explain how I felt about needles), I decided that a tattoo would be exactly what I needed. I took my time. No need to permantantly mark my body with something foolish just to make a point. I walked into several parlors, flipped thru dozens of books with lots of pictures. It was more overwhelming then I ever thought it would be. Something classic, something unique, something edgy. What to do, what to do. I went back to my friend back home. What was it that she had been asking me to do? She loves tattoos and so she's got several but she's got one that was meant for us. She had put 2 hearts on her bicep. One blue and one green. The green was for me and the blue was for her. Ok, safe and quirky and something that required interest and questions. Perfect!!
I was 20 and had asked around for recommendations. I walked into a parlor near my fave beach. It was laid back and sandy and not super organized. Perfect! I walked in, told the guy what I wanted and was instructed to sit backwards in the chair. I came in wearing a bikini top uner my shirt so that I could stay covered up and yet allow access to my back. Off comes the shirt and the bikini strap gets pushed to the side. The instrument sounds like a horror story dental instrument. It feels like someone is digging their nail into your skin. There was a mirror in front of me so I made sure to divert my eyes so I didn't tense up.
30 minutes later I'm inked up and feeling tough and ready to be a new me!! It was patched up and under my bikini strap but I walked out a little taller, with a little bit of an attitude and swagger. Bring it on!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fast forward 17 years. My tat didn't change everyone's perception of me. That's ok. It's still a conversation piece. What I hate now is that we are in VA and I work in accounting firm and instead of getting, "Hey, you have a tat!" I get, "That's not real, is it?" Some of that is due to the accounting mentality, I get that. A lot more of it has to do with the attitude in the mid-Atlantic that everyone wants to look just like everyone else. Why would I put a temp dual heart tattoo on? What purpose does that serve? Also, what makes anyone think that a.) touching my tat tells you anything about it and b.) sneering at me for having one is beneficial to our day-to-day relations and c.) it's ok to poke me in the back? People out here are weird.
So, that's that. I'm inked. I'm a bad-ass who's sat in the chair and had ink permanently put on my body. It's in a place that shouldn't age badly. Having a tat is part of who I am, part of my history, a reminder of a time in my life when I was so certain that I wasn't good enough just as I was. It's also a reminder that I'm not as scared of life as I thought I was. I still need that reminder and I'm glad it goes with me, no matter where I go!
I had only seen east LA on the TV and I thought it best to keep my head down for the year I was there. Senior year is already kind of crazy and I was the new kid on the block. I didn't know their lingo or their mannerisms. Quickly I became known as the tall blonde from the midwest. Their view of their counterparts from the frozen tundra in the middle of the country was very rural, country and hayseed. Regardless of who I was, my outsides screamed Swedish farm girl. *shrug*
So, I figured out that my accent identified me straight off. It's been 20 years since I lived back home and yet people pick up on it right away. It was considered "cute" in the west. Something that made me unique and since it's always desirable to be unique it was sort of an advantage. People remembered me as the tall, blonde girl with the quirky accent. However, when you want to be considered something OTHER than cute and safe you try really hard to create a new persona and put it out there. No one bought it. Not really. I just looked like a cute girl going thru a phase. So, I pondered some more and ,with the encouragement of a friend back home, I took a huge plunge. What could really show everyone that I wasn't some cute girl from the midwest but some bad ass girl living in the wild west? A TATTOO!! Yes, despite my fears of needles (at that point, fear doesn't quite explain how I felt about needles), I decided that a tattoo would be exactly what I needed. I took my time. No need to permantantly mark my body with something foolish just to make a point. I walked into several parlors, flipped thru dozens of books with lots of pictures. It was more overwhelming then I ever thought it would be. Something classic, something unique, something edgy. What to do, what to do. I went back to my friend back home. What was it that she had been asking me to do? She loves tattoos and so she's got several but she's got one that was meant for us. She had put 2 hearts on her bicep. One blue and one green. The green was for me and the blue was for her. Ok, safe and quirky and something that required interest and questions. Perfect!!
I was 20 and had asked around for recommendations. I walked into a parlor near my fave beach. It was laid back and sandy and not super organized. Perfect! I walked in, told the guy what I wanted and was instructed to sit backwards in the chair. I came in wearing a bikini top uner my shirt so that I could stay covered up and yet allow access to my back. Off comes the shirt and the bikini strap gets pushed to the side. The instrument sounds like a horror story dental instrument. It feels like someone is digging their nail into your skin. There was a mirror in front of me so I made sure to divert my eyes so I didn't tense up.
30 minutes later I'm inked up and feeling tough and ready to be a new me!! It was patched up and under my bikini strap but I walked out a little taller, with a little bit of an attitude and swagger. Bring it on!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fast forward 17 years. My tat didn't change everyone's perception of me. That's ok. It's still a conversation piece. What I hate now is that we are in VA and I work in accounting firm and instead of getting, "Hey, you have a tat!" I get, "That's not real, is it?" Some of that is due to the accounting mentality, I get that. A lot more of it has to do with the attitude in the mid-Atlantic that everyone wants to look just like everyone else. Why would I put a temp dual heart tattoo on? What purpose does that serve? Also, what makes anyone think that a.) touching my tat tells you anything about it and b.) sneering at me for having one is beneficial to our day-to-day relations and c.) it's ok to poke me in the back? People out here are weird.
So, that's that. I'm inked. I'm a bad-ass who's sat in the chair and had ink permanently put on my body. It's in a place that shouldn't age badly. Having a tat is part of who I am, part of my history, a reminder of a time in my life when I was so certain that I wasn't good enough just as I was. It's also a reminder that I'm not as scared of life as I thought I was. I still need that reminder and I'm glad it goes with me, no matter where I go!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Thoughts of a rolling kiosk
Our lives will be worked around my husband's job. I am not a "career" girl in the fashion of the NOW. I do not find my worth from my paycheck and the rarely achieved nod from some suit. I have dreams of staying at home and cooking dinners that take 2hrs to put together. Of raising children and baking cookies for the class and making sure that homework is finished after the last bell. I work because life requires payment. We don't live an insane lifestyle but sometimes things catch up with us. The last item was a brand new roof that came with minimal warning. We are still digging out. Once that is paid off I could take a pay cut. See, I can't be bought like that. I have dreams of quitting corporate america and starting my own little business until the children come and if they don't, making the business my thing to do while I follow my husband.
I'm sure those thoughts seem foreign or backwards to some women. I hear about it from my aquaintances. I remind them that the feminist movemet was meant to bring about freedom for women to do what made them happy and feel fulfilled. Well, that was the original idea. Now it's about some kind of power trip. "Let's show them we can be as nasty as the boys". How uninspiring. How boorish. Eh, if that's what makes them happy and fulfilled? I hope they enjoy it!
So, when my husband calls to tell me about a new job opening that would take us away from this area, we are gleeful. Not just because it means a better opportunity for him but also because it means I can get away from where I'm stuck. Our chats never veer towards talks about my next corporate job. We talk about me taking cake decorating classes and starting my own bookkeeping business. We giggle about how our next home needs a bigger kitchen so I can create more masterpieces for my husband to enjoy. Yes, I said we giggle. Today there was talk about a place we have only pondered for a brief moment because it's too ludicruis to truly consider. He's happy in his job and he enjoys his work. There is never talk about settling in and being nervous. He's a cop and that's what he's meant to be. He's an investigator and that's what his heart is set on and so he makes movements in that direction with his career. So we talk about what I'll do. We giggle about the silly ideas of how I can mold what makes me happy to the circumstances we may find ourselves. My husband is so supportive and I'm so very grateful to be blessed with him!
Today we thought up a plan to have a rolling kiosk on the boardwalk that had a heating tray so that I could keep cupcakes warm and spread the smell of baked yumminess floating around me to attract customers. Who could resist a rolling cupcake with a choice of frostings? If you were on vacation and weren't watching every penny? You'd gobble them up! I have a mental image of one of those rolling carts you see at amusement parks with a cupcake top umbrella. Walking under the warmth of the sun, smelling the breezes of the Gulf and Atlantic coming together. Selling yumminess to smiling people who's tummies have been drawing them to me from the first smell. I also thought about all the snowbirds in the FL area who have businesses back home. They could use a bookkeeper, right? Someone to help them keep track of their books while they are on vacation for 4 months, due to Dr's order for their health. Wifi is such a versitile tool!! I could be baking cupcakes in the morning and doing bookkeeping while I wait and then stroll the boardwalk with my frosting umbrella and talk the day away with the tourists.
It's good to have dreams =)
I'm sure those thoughts seem foreign or backwards to some women. I hear about it from my aquaintances. I remind them that the feminist movemet was meant to bring about freedom for women to do what made them happy and feel fulfilled. Well, that was the original idea. Now it's about some kind of power trip. "Let's show them we can be as nasty as the boys". How uninspiring. How boorish. Eh, if that's what makes them happy and fulfilled? I hope they enjoy it!
So, when my husband calls to tell me about a new job opening that would take us away from this area, we are gleeful. Not just because it means a better opportunity for him but also because it means I can get away from where I'm stuck. Our chats never veer towards talks about my next corporate job. We talk about me taking cake decorating classes and starting my own bookkeeping business. We giggle about how our next home needs a bigger kitchen so I can create more masterpieces for my husband to enjoy. Yes, I said we giggle. Today there was talk about a place we have only pondered for a brief moment because it's too ludicruis to truly consider. He's happy in his job and he enjoys his work. There is never talk about settling in and being nervous. He's a cop and that's what he's meant to be. He's an investigator and that's what his heart is set on and so he makes movements in that direction with his career. So we talk about what I'll do. We giggle about the silly ideas of how I can mold what makes me happy to the circumstances we may find ourselves. My husband is so supportive and I'm so very grateful to be blessed with him!
Today we thought up a plan to have a rolling kiosk on the boardwalk that had a heating tray so that I could keep cupcakes warm and spread the smell of baked yumminess floating around me to attract customers. Who could resist a rolling cupcake with a choice of frostings? If you were on vacation and weren't watching every penny? You'd gobble them up! I have a mental image of one of those rolling carts you see at amusement parks with a cupcake top umbrella. Walking under the warmth of the sun, smelling the breezes of the Gulf and Atlantic coming together. Selling yumminess to smiling people who's tummies have been drawing them to me from the first smell. I also thought about all the snowbirds in the FL area who have businesses back home. They could use a bookkeeper, right? Someone to help them keep track of their books while they are on vacation for 4 months, due to Dr's order for their health. Wifi is such a versitile tool!! I could be baking cupcakes in the morning and doing bookkeeping while I wait and then stroll the boardwalk with my frosting umbrella and talk the day away with the tourists.
It's good to have dreams =)
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