You can't marry because....

So many reasons why people shouldn't marry and shouldn't be able to marry, even in this day and age... Back when my parents were thinking of marrying there were different reasons (reasons which still stand today in many countries and cultures). My dad was from Bangladesh and my mum from Spain. HUGE differences in backgrounds, cultures, upbringing, colouring, etc. etc. etc. And, let's not forget the language barriers. My father spoke Bengali (he went to England when he was 20, I believe) and my mother spoke Spanish but both spoke English well enough and were studying it in order to become fluent. Still, big huge differences. But they still got married anyway. And remained married till my father died last June. Theirs was a volatile union. They thrived on drama and turmoil. And it was not always good. Still, they endured and seemed to work that way. I couldn't. I'd have several ulcers. I can't live with constant fighting and stress. And the rest. Anyway, that was their relationship and they obviously enjoyed it that way. So, my brother and I were the product of a mixed union - EuroAsian. Asian, in England, is the term for people from the middle east. Here, in the US, it's the term from people from the Orient. So, my brother and I didn't fit into any specific category when we were children. Most of our friends were Anglo (read: white) even my best friend whose parents were both foreign but they were Poles (from Poland, duh lol) so she blended in :)

Soooooooooooooooooooo, I really wasn't going to get into my parents' relationship because there was some really scary stuff that my brother and I both witnessed and I know we're not the only ones who've had to endure that kind of stuff but many couples who go through that don't remain together.

My relationship with Wade started off as any would. We saw each other in a pub, the Bird In Hand. I was there with my cousin and we'd met some GIs, one of whom she was dating casually at the time, and we were watching a game of pool. Wade was playing and all I could see was his rather delicious bum. His bum in those tight jeans was just drool-worthy. I couldn't take my eyes off his rear end. And then I looked a little lower and noticed his rather spectacular thighs. Grrrrrrrr. Lovely legs. He's a tennis player and still plays now during the weekends. He was also a runner so he had rather wonderful legs and a butt that was a joy to behold (still is!). So, there I was noticing his delightful arse and legs and what did he notice about me? He noticed my hair! WTH? My hair??? Yes, apparently, when it was my turn to take the table he spotted me lining up for shots and, as I'd kneel to check the angle and trajectory, he'd see my hair in a ponytail and he claims it looked like a bloody PINEAPPLE! Now, I do have rather nice hair but I also have something that most people notice which usually eclipses the hair (and, by then, I was sick and tired of the comments about said assets). I am a short woman and I have very large (real) boobies. So, how do you NOT notice them? OK, it could be that I never wore anything too clingy because unlike a lot of women with large (and, often, fake) boobs, I like to disguise the fact that I have boobs. So, he claims he didn't notice them. Uh huh.

Wade and I lived miles apart and we spent hours every day, after work, talking on the phone. I'd go and visit him on the weekends and then it would be back to work. My mum had never wanted me to marry a Brit (I have no idea why, she just didn't like Brits, I suppose, even though that's where we lived and where she'd lived for, I don't know, 20 years?). It wasn't too soon after we met that Wade and I decided we were going to get married. He was a GI at the time but he wasn't due to go back to the US for a couple of years. But he loved living in England and had said he'd try to stay in the UK as long as possible. But, at some point, we'd have to move to the US for at least a couple of years. Say what, chap? It was inevitable but some of us like to live with our heads in the sand. When we told my parents, 2 1/2 months after meeting, that we were going to get married my mum was pretty pleased (though thought it was a bit soon to be deciding that kind of thing) but my dad had a total fit. Won't go into that, though.

Blah blah blah. We got married 9 months after we first met. No, I wasn't pregnant, didn't trap him, didn't marry him to get a green card etc. etc. etc. In fact, when he got his orders to move back to the US he fought it and got extended out to a nearby base (5 miles) in England and we didn't even have to move house. We eventually did have children, moved to the US (which was useless because now we're nowhere near my family (in England) or his (in CA and AZ) because we're in VA. So, that was an excellent move and the weather in VA sucks ass.

Sometimes I do wonder, though, about having married someone from a totally different culture. I make references to some shows I watched when growing up and he has no idea what I'm talking about. Or to some character from some show and he's clueless. He makes reference to Monty Python (which he and Billy have watched) and I have no idea. Just because it's an English show doesn't mean I've watched it, dude! LOL Or I'll make a reference to some music or group and he's, once again, clueless.... And who the hell knows what he's talking about when he talks about school crap from here (in the US). My children go to school here and I just don't get it at all. But then THEY think I went to bloody Hogwarts because I went to an all girls school and we wore uniforms. Plus they saw the buildings last year when we were in England and they think the school looks all Hogwarty (it most certainly doesn't). And, like Hogwarts (or any other English school) we go to high school from 11 - 18 and we have first years and second years and third years etc. etc. etc.

So, I do wonder about marrying outside of your comfort zone BUT who cares? We've been married a long time. We've made our own references and we have our own silly crappy codes and words and communication. And we are weird together as are our children. What does it matter that we didn't grow up in the same country? That I came from a background where nobody I knew had divorced parents and he didn't. What does it matter that he was brought up by his dad and that his dad was a banker and they moved a lot and sometimes, he was in a minority and was one of the few white kids in his school. I was one of the few non totally white kids in mine. And that, I can say, was bloody weird. Out of the 6 or 700 girls in my school there were only about 5 of us who weren't 100% Anglosaxon (aka white). And there was only one black girl in the school. Hardly a diverse school.

Nowadays kids in schools are facing all sorts of family dynamics and some kids come from single family homes, some from 'traditional' family setups (one mum, one dad, still married), same sex families, foster homes, adopted families (either hetero or homosexual partnering)... so much diversity. You'd think there would be more acceptance so why is there not? Why is there bullying? And not just gay kids either? Minority kids. Kids who can't afford the right clothes or shoes. Kids who just aren't popular enough. So glad that, though my school was not diverse, we did not have to put up with the BS clique system that seems to run rampant in schools here.

And now we've gone through the interracial marriages (which people fought from) and we're having people fighting for same sex marriage. Some of the arguments that I've heard for NOT allowing same sex union are so ignorant it makes me wonder from under which rock the morons, who make these statements, crawled. So, if gay women and men should be allowed to marry what's to stop a human from marrying a dog? Say what? And what's to stop an adult from marrying a child? Huh? Well, in some cultures old men DO marry female children and they also have sex with male children. Glad you don't live in those countries now, eh, ignorant and unwashed masses? I'll bet.

When will it end? We all know that same sex marriage will eventually be accepted. What was it? 70 years ago or so people were being put in jail and to death for homosexual activities and now it's legal in most first world countries. But, yet, still illegal in many middle eastern countries.

I rather like the idea that people wouldn't ever have to choose their partner based on gender. I rather like the idea that children aren't brought up to have to play with sex appropriate toys because society dictates what it's OK for a girl to play with and what's OK for a boy to play with. I rather like the idea that a child should be allowed to explore other children as individuals and not based on gender. And, if a girl wants to play with power tools with her mum or dad and a boy wants to bloody knit me a bloody scarf or hat have at it, kid. I'd like mine in a lavender colour please.

What, I wonder, will be the next section of society everyone is up in arms over? Who will be the next targeted group who has to fight for basic human rights? And what's with all the bloody goddamned labels anyway?!

What does it matter if Matt Bomer is gay??

Matt Bomer from White Collar publicly acknowledged his family when giving thanks in a public speaking forum, where he was receiving an award for his work for HIV/AIDS awareness, and included not only his 3 children but his husband. The network his show is on is USA network and, apparently, they are worried that his revealing his sexuality will diminish his female audience/following so he was been asked (allegedly) not to talk about his being gay.... I want to ask WHY? Why can't he be honest. According to reports everyone, within the industry, knew he was married to a man and that he had always been open about being gay (I've heard it referred to as being in the glass closet where it's out in the open to all but the viewing public who, frankly, can't be arsed to find out or who really doesn't give a shit) so why does it matter that he has publicly acknowledged that he is gay? Who cares?

I wish less people cared. To all those women who will now stop watching White Collar because Matt is gay. What the hell does it matter if he's gay? Did you think you stood a chance to get together with him if he was not gay? Does it stop you from having your little fantasies, starring Matt, just because he's now publicly confirmed what tons of people already knew? It's laughable if this is the reason that women will stop watching a very entertaining show! Look, you can still fantasize that he will drive up to your house/job/bar/pub/bedroom door and spend the night shagging your brains out because that's all it ever really was. Better still, pretend he's there with another hot stud and that it's a little more exciting. What the hell does it matter. It was never going to happen. Fantasy is fine and healthy. If you have never had a lovely dream about anyone other than your partner then you must be dead LOL Hell, I had one hell of a dream the other night about a gay author I'm friends with on Facebook and I was very disappointed when my bloody alarm clock woke me up and he wasn't there (sorry Wade but I still love you, baby). Nothing wrong with a little fantasy to keep things lively in your lovelife.

So, to all the women out there who are now going to stop watching Matt Bomer on TV or in the movies because he's no longer 'available' to them... well, he never was so get over it. :D

Baby steps and dreaming of my dad.

A couple of days ago I decided to restart finishing that book that I was so close to finishing writing. The thing was that I was almost done and then the thing with my dad happened and I couldn't go back to it because someone pivotal to the story was killed and that's where I'd finished writing. So, needless to say, I just couldn't face opening up the book. I'd cried when I was writing it. I let Holly read it (after all, this whole story was based on something I used to tell Holly when I used to bathe her when she was little) and she had cried buckets. So, I have been too raw to get back to it. So I thought I'd better start to try to finish it and try to start picking up the pieces of my life.

I'm currently re-reading and reformatting it. It's 277 pages so it's going to take a while. And I'm going to rewrite quite a bit of it because I've changed my mind about several of the characters. Also want to finish it then I will self publish it because I just can't be bothered with trying to 'sell' it to publishing houses. I need to exorcise this ghost in order to get on. I want to do it and then I'll think about following up the story because it's incomplete even after I finish the book. It was never supposed to be a one-off so I have so much more story and it's already long. So I'm going to try to end this thing and try to start anew once that's done.

But, between all this reading (and reading books that hit so close to home they make me cry like a baby) I have also been exercising too much (nothing new there) and not eating enough (huge shocker). Who has time to eat, anyway, when there are so many hours of working out to fit in. And then you have to cook and do laundry and clean shit. Who has time to eat?! At least I'm drinking more FF Lactaid. That's keeping me going.

I spent most of the day today (from 9am - 3:45pm) working out. That's just nuts. I'm aware of it. I did take 2 breaks to drink milk. Big whoop, right? I read while working out on the treadmill for 3hrs 20 mins (no break). Further proof of my nutty behaviour.

I need to make dinner for my family and continue reading my book. My dad's birthday is next week. Another sad reminder that he's no longer with us. I dreamt of him last night. I haven't dreamt of him many times since he died. In my dream I asked him why he was there and he asked me why I was asking so I told him he had died. He told me he was fine and that I'd just been dreaming. He was very much alive and he looked very well. In fact, he looked younger than he did when I last saw him the month before he got sick. He assured me he was very much alive and I was happy. I woke up and I knew it was all a dream and a lie. He wasn't well. He's gone. To be one of those people who believes there's something else after we leave this mortal plane... that would be so sweet. But I don't so I'm shit outta luck.

I also kind of wish we hadn't move to America. I have wished that a lot because it's meant leaving family behind and being so far removed from the life I've always known. And it's not like living here put us closer to Wade's family because it didn't. They are on the west coast and we're on the east coast and my family is in England and in Spain. Well, they were in Spain till... So being here has always been a sore point for me. It's not that I hate the place. I hate the isolation from family. I grew up around the same people. England's tiny compared to America. People, even if they moved away, didn't move far. I don't relish the thought of the children moving away here because here it could mean the other side of the country which might as well be the other side of the bloody moon. So, yes, sore point.

Anyway, got things I have to do and people I have to feed.

First boyfriends and big black hairy things

I thought I'd share a story about my first boyfriend. I wonder if I can think back that far... :o) I was listening to someone talk about their first experience and that got my mind meandering back to that time in my life - a time of trepidation and fear and excitement. It was also a time of visiting unknown pastures and wondering just what good girls did in order to NOT cultivate bad reputations. One of my best friends and I used to walk to the shops at lunchtime... In the 6th form when we were finally allowed off the school grounds, having gained the privilege because we had passed the O levels and gained entrance into the hallowed sixth form - oooooh. Privileges included the aforementioned ability to leave the school grounds without getting into trouble AND we no longer had to wear the uniform - a kilt and blouse (and a polo neck skin tight under-top in the winter), the socks and the below 2" heeled regulation coloured shoes and the summer dress with sandals in the summer. Anyway, we were walking to the shops and were talking about boys and dating. We were 17 and scared shitless. We were getting close to an age where boys would expect more than kisses and neither of us had really ever dated. Obviously I had kissed boys before (summer holidays in Spain were a real hoot and my cousin and I really enjoyed innocent fun going out with boys and kissing them) but we had never gone further than kissing. As we got older we got more nervous and the discussions got more desperate about what would be expected from us. We went to an all girls school and we were really rather naive. It was sad that nobody really found the need to talk to us about relationships and sex but there you go. I have remedied that with my children. And they're all young. :o) They keep telling me that it's TMI but better TMI than no I.

Back to the boyfriends thing. I didn't start the whole dating game till after I was out of high school (we do high school from 11 - 18 in England unless you fail your O levels in which case you can go to college to retake them or just quit at 16). I was finally driving and able to go out and about and started going out to pubs. See, I was a good girl and I waited till I was 18 (OK, a month or two shy of 18) till I went to pubs. We didn't need ID in those days either. And who asks girls how old they are. They needed more women in pubs :o) So, I started going out to pubs and I didn't drink and drive much (I was very stupid but VERY lucky) so the designated driver would drink soft drinks and the rest of us would go on the piss (drink alcohol).

I met this first boyfriend through friends. He was cute. He was short (as am I) and he was a little younger than me. But he was probably more outgoing than me. He had an advantage over me. He wasn't shy and, if he was, he was also a pot smoker which made him less than shy. He and his friends smoked pot and cigarettes. I did neither but I didn't want to look like a bore so I  made my first mistake. At 18 1/2 I took up smoking to try to look (and how dumb is this?!) more sophisticated. UGH! The next time we met up, down the pub, I was a smoker. What an idiot. But I guess that, as a smoker, I was more likely to try smoking pot. We met a couple more times and then I went to his house to meet his family. They were nice enough. Cute younger brother (always been into the younger men LOL). We then went to his friend's house to meet up with them and have some drinks. I was driving so no drinks for me. So they offered me pot. Never having had it before I though what the hell. Tried it but it did nothing for me. After a few hits I decided I needed to go to the loo so I went off to the loo and they continued smoking pot and drinking beer. Finished up and washed my hands and, as I was coming around the corner, I overheard these chaps talking. Hmmm. I really didn't like what I was hearing. They were talking about holding me down and giving me a giant hickey and then seeing what else they could do to me. At that point I decided that my best course of action was to piss off out of there ASAP. So, I grabbed my bag and quietly left the house and buggered off home. Never took his calls after that. What a total bastard.

Met him at his younger (and even cuter) brother's house (a party he was having) a few years later. I was seeing my second boyfriend at that time and we'd gone there together. This git asked me to go upstairs for a minute because he had to show me something. So I went up there a few minutes after he'd vanished. Got to his room and knocked on his door. Went in and he was lying naked in his bed!!! WTF? He asked me if I'd like to join him. LMAO I was at this party with my bloody boyfriend, for pity's sake. I informed him, very sweetly, that, no, I wouldn't like to join him and that, no, I didn't want to see what he had under the covers and left the room laughing my ass off. We left the party soon after that. It was pretty funny how over confident he was. Laughable.

Anyway, yesterday I was working out in the dark (as I usually do). I was on the treadmill and was watching a documentary about being fat and on the verge of death until the guy decided to get a juicer and do a 60 day juice fast (considering getting a juicer now but not to do a 60 day juice fast - I can't afford the weight now). So I'm pounding away on the treadmill and there is a little bit of light in the gym and suddenly I see this humungous black thing scuttle across the wall to the left of me. I screamed my arse off. How much of a chicken am I? At that point I was a huge chicken. It shocked me that I didn't pee myself :o) So, I'm screaming and screaming (but God forbid that I stop the treadmill and run out of the gym - wouldn't want to fuck up my workout, after all) and screamed some more. Did any-bloody-buggering-body come down to see what the hell was wrong? Was mummy getting knifed? Was mummy getting murdered? Was mummy getting some? Nope. I screamed some more and reached back to turn on the lamp (while still walking on the treadmill) and watched this big black hairy thing scramble across the wall, behind the photo shrine I've put up of my dad (which is why I treadmill in the dark), and crawl across the adjacent wall. Still screaming I finally see my 9 year old outside the gym and he asks me what's wrong. I scream at him to tell his dad to come down (he was on the third floor). He eventually came down. At this point I had stopped the treadmill with 2 laps still to go but I was worried that the bugger would vanish and I'd never be able to workout again and that just wouldn't do. Had a shoe in hand but didn't want to mess up the shoe. LOL

Wade came in and I handed his some tissues and he killed the thing. Didn't tell me what the hell it was. It looked like a quadillopeed - a big, furry, black thing with fangs and horns. Fucker's dead now. *shudder* I hope it didn't have babies. UGH.

The day after the day before.

Yesterday was the day after I ate nothing. Well, I did eat that bag of Frazzles and it's not the first day I've eaten no dinner (which is the only time I eat) but it's the first in a couple of months. I just didn't fancy anything after cooking for the family. It happens. Not wise, under normal circumstances, but STUPID when you're in my (stupid) shoes, I know. I just didn't feel like it. And I am getting embroiled (and I realize it so I don't have a disorder) of actually liking the way I look now.

I want to be thin but I'll never look thin because of my breasts. I should get reduction and, hell, if 2 breast surgeons (I have a history of breast lumps) have told me I needed reduction because of their size and my height (or lack, thereof) then I really should consider it seriously. My excuse, in the past, was that I wanted to be able to breastfeed my children. And I did. For 8 years of my life (total). They did their job well. But that's over now and I should get them done, shouldn't I?? Wade said that he'd stand by whatever decision I make. But, am I wanting them reduced NOW because I want to look thin or because I need them done? I am down to a DD cup (going to try bras on today) from an H (horrendous) and I know the DDs I have now are big on me. So is it necessary. Some women would probably like to have a small body and big boobs. Some women PAY to have big boobs on a small body.

I've never really had a problem with them as far as pain was concerned (OK, that's a lie because I do get horrible upper back pain from time to time but not often these days because of all the weights I do) so is this a wise choice for me? My main concern is that I have had keloid scarring on my back and shoulder (surgeries) but I have had surgeries on both breasts (to remove lumps) and did not get a keloid either time. Keloid risk is why I have never risked Lasik. I asked an optician once why she wore glasses when Lasik was available and she said she had a risk of keloid scarring so she would not do it. So is it worth the risk of possible keloid (and it would be extensive in reduction surgery) scarring... Hmmm. I suppose I could go and see a surgeon about it and get more information. If I was bound (well, if my breasts were bound!) then I probably would lessen the risks of scarring anyway. I'll think about it.

Anyway, last night I ate a cheddar omelette. Huge dinner. 2 eggs. I have noticed that I eat more supplements than food. No, that wasn't what I was going to say. I have noticed that I don't have to take as much apple cider vinegar as I used to. But then that's because I don't eat more times a day. If I eat once then I only take it once (and sometimes nonce - ha! Is that even a word? I mean none) a day.

The children and Wade were happy to see me eat something. Whoopee.

I have noticed the last 5 times I've done my 100 mins on the treadmill that I get a pain in my right side (in the rib area). It feels like a stitch but it's a bit higher than where you'd normally get a stitch. This morning I got it in both sides. It's a real pain (literally). I was telling Wade about it and he asked if I wanted to see a doctor, Am I dying? I doubt it. So why should I see a doctor. Besides, if I told a doctor what I do (exercise-wise) and what I eat (or don't eat) he'd have something to say about it. And it probably wouldn't be good, right? I don't think it's cramps (I take potassium supplements). It might be a stitch. Who the hell knows. I'll leave it a couple more weeks and see if it goes away by itself.

Holly keeps telling me my legs are looking gross because they are too muscular. Um, I walk 8 miles a day and I do leg (weighted) exercises every other day also. She also says my arms look gross. Nice, Holly. She just doesn't think women should have marked muscle tone. One day she will. Besides, it's not like I look like a body builder or anything. I just have good muscle mass and it's not hidden under a layer of fat. I like it and I work hard at it and I will continue to work at it. Oh, and (and this I find funny) my bottom is too small! My bottom!? LMAO (and I don't even, apparently, have one to laugh off). Who would have thought it.

When we were in England my cousin commented on how all the women have large arses (in our family) and that Holly's was fantastic. We love bums - that was the first thing I noticed about Wade when I met him. He was playing pool and was bent over the table and I drooled. He noticed my hair (he says). I had it in an odd high pony and he thought it looked like a pineapple. He also claims he never noticed my boobs. As if. But, yes, he has a lush bum and I noticed it and he still has a lush bum and I still notice it. I love bums. Holly has a bum J Lo would probably love (I think J Lo's arse is gross - too bloody big but it does defy gravity still so it could be worse). Billy, on the other hand, wears jeans that are so loose that you don't notice his rather lovely bottom. Oliver has a cute bum too. Mine, not so much. It's vanished. I'm adding onto my bum exercises because I want a bigger bum. We'll see if it works. Now, if only I could get Wade to... well, I won't go there.

Dinner anyone?

Made the children a fauxsagna tonight. It's a lasagna (lasagne) cooked in two pans (pasta in one and the ground beef and cheese sauce - made with a roux base - cooked in another). Couldn't decide what I wanted for dinner. Wade made himself a couple of small steaks. I skipped dinner. Always a good move when you only eat a small protein once a day. I drank a cup of FF Lactaid with Nesquik (heated up) for dinner. I'm feeling a little hungry now that that's worn off. I did two treadmill workouts today (100 minutes on steep incline) then, thinking that wasn't enough, I did a power walk to and from the library (to donate some hard back books). When I got back I wanted to go out again but it was getting dark. I think I am overdoing it a little or going slowly insane. Or both.

Injured again

Wade is hurt. Again. This time it was as a result of the punching bag I got him for Christmas. At least it wasn't from falling down the stairs when another of his Christmas gifts - a pull-up bar - falls down from the door frame and results in him dropping and falling down the stairs. I told him to put it up on the door to the gym, in the lowest level of the house. It has screws so it should be secure, right? Hmmmm I want to try it out because I think it will add to my workouts (so did I really buy it for him or me?). What I really wanted to get was a poledancing pole because I would imagine that the core workout, using one of those babies, has to be brilliant. I would bet that the strength required to do inverted lifts would be outrageous. Maybe next year.

Anyway, after a week of being in pain (which started 4 days after he slipped, on the sweat dampened concrete floor, and fell while doing some kind of TKD back kick onto the bag) he finally called in and got an appointment to see his doctor. I don't know how he does it. We, as a family, rarely go to the doctor but I have yet to call in and get a same day appointment. Obviously the staff at the doctors' office love Wade (as do the people at the UK passport office who told me I'd get my passport in weeks then told Wade, when he called, that it would be here in a matter of 2 or 3 days) like something about his voice. You know... when we were first dating I used to melt at the sound of his voice. I still do. It's the sexiest thing ever. Maybe that's how he always gets appointments (and his way). His voice is like silk. The tone is deep and smooth... the way he uses words... it's calming but sexy at the same time. I always thought my voice was nice - it's not a girly high pitch. And, frankly, here in America a lot of people like the sound of my voice and 'accent' (I keep insisting I'm not the one with an accent but the fools insists it's me, and not them, with the so-called accent) but he, obviously, has a way with words or something.

Back to the doctor thing before I get so excited that I have to call Wade just to hear his voice.... He called and got a same day appointment and went to see the doctor yesterday. He normally doesn't leave work unless he's really, really sick. He went in and was sent to a same day chiropractor appointment (how DOES he do it?!) and had some tests done, Turns out that his over eager punchbag workout fall resulted in a delayed reaction and the jolt knocked all sorts of things, inside his shoulder and back, out of whack. Funny how it was 4 days after the fall but the fall, on concrete, is to blame. I had told him to put down sand but he thinks that would make it worse when he sweats and it gets all pasty. He does sweat a lot but then he drinks water by the gallon even when he's not working out. Since he has decided to go back on the Black Belt program at the dojo, after a 2 year break following his last knee surgery, this is going to put a delay in that plan. He's been told not to do anything - no tennis, no kickboxing, no cardio at the dojo, no lifting anything over 5 lbs (to which he told the doctor that that meant he could still lift his wife -haha, Wade. Let's make a dig a my not eating yet again) till he is fully recovered. He's upset and I get that. I would be chomping at the bit if I couldn't workout. What the hell would I do with the extra 5hrs a day?!

Talking of which. last night I increased the weights that I lift. I'm not after the huge muscle goon look so I do reps, lots and lots of reps. I do 60 reps of many of the exercises I do in each session and 30 of some of the others. I've been using weights again since May. I decided to increase the weight last night and hope that that will help me bulk up just a little bit more. But I really like my arms. Holly hates the look I have in my arms and legs. I don't know if I should just start using my Bowflex instead, though.. Or maybe in addition to the weights. It's not like I would hate to add more to my already workout heavy days. Hmmmm. I'm thinking I'll get even more nagged by my family, though. God, it was awful. Usually I get away with it because I workout while they are out of the house. But, during the holiday (and during the weekends) they notice how long I spend working out. Every time I go down to the gym Billy gives me the usual "goodbye Mama, see you again some time this week" routine. Yes, Billy, and I'll see you somewhere outside of the family room if you can drag your arse away from the fucking XBox anytime soon! I got him a weight set for Christmas. He hasn't opened it. I opened it. Shocker. Last summer he started lifting weights with me at the beginning of his school break. It lasted from mid June till we left for Spain at the beginning of August. I took my weights but he left his (lighter ones) at home. Told him he could use his grandmother's when we were away. Should have known he wouldn't be interested because he was already skipping workouts before we even left here. And, when he did workout, he'd leave before the end of the session. And would half arse it when he did do a workout.

Anyway, I bought him weights and was hoping he'd want to get back into it. He's 18 now and he wants to get a girlfriend and he's kind of slim. How did he get to be 18 when I'm only 29???? Well, I was a child bride... So, is Billy interested? Nope. Not unless it's a game on the XBox. I suppose I'm OK with him not having a girlfriend. His problem is that he's painfully shy (yay, no nasty skanks to pretend to like). He took up TKD with Wade and went to Advanced Brown belt till he quit that because he didn't like the contact part of that sport. Good timing as the girls were starting to sniff around and I'm not ready to lose my baby to some girl, But I also told him that girls would be more attracted to him if he knew how to cook. Did that peak his interest? Nope. Maybe if there were cooking lessons for the XBox... OMG, he's one going to end up being one of those men in those smelly assed games shops in the malls. You know, she shops that, when you go in, smell like unwashed (for weeks) male bodies. Ewwwww. I hope not. But he is, isn't he?! When he's off school he will play games and sleep in the family room and not shower for days. And he won't shave either. And he doesn't like deodorant when he's not at school either. What the hell did we ever do to him to deserve to be rewarded with his unwashed BO reeking body?! It's looking like he already IS one of those smelly mall-dwelling gameshop geeks (without actually having started going to one of those stores... yet). This has to be nipped in the bud.

Back to Wade - he was given meds and has been told not to workout. He's going to be climbing the walls. Or trying to get his excess energy worked off in a different way. I would post what he said the other day when I told him I'd got my period but it's too rude (not to me but in case anyone was to read this) and it was funny as hell (for Wade to say that because Wade just doesn't as much as I ask him to). I want to post about some stuff but I won't till.... well....yet.

OK, my headache's subsided somewhat so I'm going to get down to the treadmill. I hear it calling me. It's lonely and missing me. :o) And, hell, I'm missing it too.

When I come back...

When I come back I want to come back as (well, I have thought about this quite a lot lately what with death being on my mind every day since last June) a man. Why? Because being a woman is hard to do on a daily basis. And I'm talking the menial little crappy things like hair removal. I come from hairy Mediterranean stock. I have been plucking my eyebrows since I was first 'allowed' at age 13 or so. And then there's the ever present facial hair that likes to adorn the top lip. Gotta love that stuff. I have seen women here, in the US, who rock the moustache look. I just don't want to be one of those out and proud hairy lipped women. Lately I have also spotted a whisker or two on my chin. WTH? It's not bad enough having hair all over the top lip and and wannabe unibrow? Lovely. So they get plucked and everything else gets waxed and/or plucked. Then there's the 'hair down there' that I remove every other day and let's not forget the leg hair and the armpit hair - I am NOT that Mediterranean.

Additionally, I workout a lot but I don't have testosterone so it's kind of hard to put in all the hours and not see fabulous results. I have super muscle mass but not huge muscle mass. I will not take supplements to enhance (I know I am taking enough health risks already. I don't need to add that little crack at stupidity too.) my workouts so that would be easier if I was a man. Then there's the height thing. I'd like to be taller next time around. Yes, oh I am sooooo cute at 5' air. But you gain a lb at this height and you may as well have gained 20. And you gain 20lbs and you may as well rename yourself Orca. I'd like to me taller. I'd also like to not have to carry around 2 watermelons on my chest wall.... I realize some men have moobs but I'd work my damnedest not to have moobs. I am proud to say that I have gone down considerably on the boob sizes. This was emphasized to me when Holly and I were looking at old photos earlier. When I used to say that each breast was larger than Oliver's head when I was breastfeeding him (another thing men don't have/get to do but, hey, many women don't either) I wasn't kidding.

I'd also like to not have periods, PMS, etc. I'd also not like to think of all the thrills of menopause. Now, there's something to look forward to. Hmmmm. Excited about that one. And then we can worry about osteoporosis. Ha ha ha. Can't wait.

So I'd like to come back as a man. I'd be playing with myself all day long. I'm curious that way :o) I'd also like to be a gay man when I come back. Why? Because I'd like to have options. I like men. I like women too but I really like men. So, though I would like to come back as a man and not a woman, I'd like to come back as a man who likes men. I want to be the 'stereotypical' gay man who likes to look after his looks and spend hours and hours working out (wow, that's so different from my days now LOL). And the only grooming I would do would be my ... well, down there LOL And, God forbid, I'd do my back hair if I had that crap. Down there would be permanently removed. All over removal. No hair for this gal... or guy. And then there's a whole lot of other stuff I'd like to say but I think I'll refrain. Because then I'd come off as a pervert and someone might read this shit one day and realize I'm a pervert and I am so refrained and polite that I hide it well (most of the time... unless I've been drinking... which I don't do these days. So, to quote Eliza Dolittle: "I'm a good girl, I am"). I will say this - I will be versatile. ;)

So, yes, I'll come back as a tall, leaning to muscular, lacking in back hair (and hair down there and, please, no more unibrow!) man next. Are we good?

Confessions of HRH, the Drama Queen

This is something I have always been aware of. It started in my early teens. Body image + teen girls = keen awareness. Having a brother who could eat 10 million calories a day and not gain an ounce was hard. I wasn't overweight as a child but I was very aware that I could gain weight so I was always hyper aware of what I ate. I also exercised even back then.

When I was 21 1/2 I fainted and landed on my chin. Unlike in the movies my faint was not a ladylike slow flop, hand to brow, landing on a bed of feathers. I landed on a puddle of dog pee. I had been feeling faint but decided I would not sit down on the pavement near the pillar I stood beside because some stupid dog had just peed there. That was OK because landing in it was so much more desirable. This unladylike faint resulted in my knocking out a FRONT tooth. Not a pretty sight. I also took a chunk out of my bottom lip. The hospital did nothing about that saying it would mend better if left alone. Today you can't see a scar. My dentist did a piss poor job of making me a front tooth crown a few days later. I fainted on a Friday and had just started seeing a nice young man who had asked me to go out with friends to the pub. I went but I didn't smile once!

Oh, the reason I fainted was because I hadn't eaten in 3 days (but I did drink water - what a bloody idiot) and I'd just got back from London (on the hot and lacking in air circulation tube) and I fainted outside of the tube station waiting for my lift home.

I did end up getting my front tooth replaced with a slightly better crown just before I got married (not the the boyfriend mentioned before). I found out that the knock had, in effect, killed off my other front tooth and that that tooth would have to be 'replaced' at some point too. After moving to the US I got both teeth fixed and I was very fussy so they were done several times (they are front teeth, after all) and I was very happy with the way they looked and matched my original front teeth.

After that fainting episode I started eating. The stupid thing was that I wasn't even overweight but was still starving myself. Didn't all women do that?

After having 2 children and not losing the 'baby weight' entirely I decided I needed to do something about it. I had moved to the US (when they were young) and the portions here are insane. After a while I got fed up with my weight and started to watch my eating. I also went TaeBo crazy. I developed what is termed anorexia athletica. I would never miss a day. I had to have breast surgery (to remove a benign tumour) and was told not to exercise on the day of the surgery or for 2 weeks after (and we're talking about a woman who worked out even when in labour and never missed a day of workouts during my 2 pregnancies). What did I do? I did double workouts for a couple of days leading up to the procedure and then felt fine the day after the procedure so worked out anyway. To hell with the doctor's advice. Ha! I didn't split the stitches so I carried on. 

I ended up losing all the aforementioned baby weight and more. But I also became chemically imbalanced and started to have a lot of episodes of sinus tachycardia and that seemed to trigger panic attacks. Around the time my husband had to have knee surgery and I was not doing well. I was starving myself and was down to 108lbs which, for my height, should be OK but I have big boobs so who knows. I also have pretty solid muscle mass so I can weigh that and look 'normal'. 

I ended up not being able to sleep anymore. I hit a really low point and left my husband at the hospital and wasn't there when he came out of surgery. I will never forget the feeling of letting him down. He was OK (he claimed) but I wasn't. I had gone home (I don't know why I drove home when I felt like I was climbing out of my skin plus I had the children in the car with me - what a fucking idiot). I called the hospital later (when I had calmed down) and took the children back to see their dad. I was still feeling like shit, though. Having to do everything, when I as having almost constant sinus tachycardia, was scary as shit. I eventually told my husband that I couldn't do it anymore and finally went to talk to a doctor. I was given anti-depressants and told I would probably feel worse before I felt better. Since I wasn't sleeping,wasn't eating, my heart was constantly racing and I was feeling like death, I couldn't imagine feeling worse. So I didn't take them. A week later I went to see another doctor. He gave me anti anxiety meds and told me to take a half dose of the anti-depressant. I started that day because, frankly, I didn't want to continue with the way things were. I was feeling a little better after the first tiny dose of Xanax. Took that (very small doses) for 2 weeks then stopped them and just took the half pills of Zoloft. They gave me nightmares from hell but I was sleeping for 3 or 4 hours at a time so felt a lot better. I went off Zoloft (cold turkey) 3 months later, feeling fine. The doctor I'd seen had left so I didn't see that point of going back. It's NOT a good thing to get off anti-depressants cold turkey.

Got pregnant again. Gained weight. Shocker. Not an abnormal amount but enough. Felt super. Worked out throughout, once again. 

Then I stopped working out. I have never eaten huge portions or eaten cakes etc. My achilles is chocolate. Just plain old chocolate - not cookies or biscuits. I also like savoury. And not a big veggie eater - goes right through me. Also have had gastric issues for a long time so I have to be careful what I eat anyway.

So, this past May my father had a bad throat. He was taken into hospital (in Spain) and was treated like a piece of shit by the butchers there. He developed a flesh eating bacteria and double pneumonia. All this after going in with a slightly more complicated form of tonsillitis. During the middle of his stay there I made a vow to not eat another meal till he was able to eat again. No full meals. Oh and to only eat one thing a day till he was able to eat again. I had also started lifting weights again (I have big boobs so need to keep my back and shoulders strong). I started doing cardio on the treadmill. Started out small (doing 30 mins on level ground). Also went in to renew my passport (and the children's) so we could go to Spain to help my father during what they said would be a very long and slow recovery. The thing is he never did recover. And he KNEW he was going to die. They told us, to the very last 2.5 days, that he would recover. But he didn't. He'd been so strong and had been cutting down huge tree branches (with a saw) on the day he went into hospital. 

He died. And there's this vow. 

Went to Spain. The passport came too late. We didn't get to say goodbye or anything. I did talk at him on the phone (because he couldn't talk). He cried. I haven't stopped.

So, went to Spain. Took my weights. Who does that?! Did not miss a day (use them every other day). Also swam as my cardio. Ate protein. Took all my supplements. Drank fat free milk.

Went to England after leaving Spain. Visited the site where my father has been laid to rest.

It's now December. I stepped up the workouts when we got back at the end of August. I needed something to take my mind off what had happened. I now do 8 miles a day on a steep incline (divided into 2x96 minutes sessions). And I do 90 mins of weights every other day on top. When I need to do other things I exercise through the night (that is the nature of AA) so that I don't miss a session. I eat protein once a day. That's it. I know that that also has a name but I am not thin. I have very nice muscle mass. My HR is the best it's ever been. My BP is brilliant. Frankly, I am not even hungry most of the time. I still drink fat free Lactaid. 

My husband and children (and brother, sister-in-law, cousins) tell me I need to eat. I can't. I made a vow. I know it's fucking stupid now because, yes, I know, my dad wouldn't have wanted me to do this. Apparently the not eating is a bigger concern than the hours of exercising. I'm not stupid. I know I should eat and I used to keep saying that I have plenty of reserve so it didn't matter. The problem is that I don't anymore. I know I should eat and I do but it's not enough and it's certainly not balanced. I worry I will gain weight. I don't want to break that stupid fucking promise. But I feel fine. I realize that probably won't last forever, though. 

So, I am stuck between a rock and a hard place. But I have never felt better and I look OK.

Holly and I spent an afternoon doing some girly grooming. I did her eyebrows with wax and tweezers. She ought to learn how to do her own back I'm OK doing hers since, back in my own youth, I used to do mine and I ended up with McDonald's arches for 4 or 5 years.

As for girly grooming... about 18 months ago I decided I wanted to do my own girly grooming... down below. I considered wax and bought a Brazilian waxing kit. Bear in mind that I have always used wax but I have never used wax down below. I used wax to prepare for childbirth one time. By that I mean that I used the pain of waxing my armpits (never having done that before). And it was painful. But the pain of the hair growing back out was worse. I could almost feel each and every freaking hair break through the skin when it decided to grow back out again. It was painful AND itchy. Anyway, back to girly part deforestation - I decided I wanted to try something involving less hair down there so I started to shave... and shave... and shave till there was nothing left at all. And who the hell decided that women need hair in the butt area too, for pity's sake?! I don't need to keep THAT warm down there. Sooooooooooo, that had to go too. How in the hell am I supposed to be able to wax all these bits? Contrary to what I tell the children I do not have eyes in the back of my head nor do I have them in my butt. I bought a really good shaver that is specific for the girly bits region and it really does give a very close shave. It's so good I bought another one for Holly to use for her face (when she's too impatient to wait for me to use wax on her - hey, we come from Mediterranean stock so we suffer from being facial hair challenged.) and she used to use it till I confiscated it because she never cleaned it, cleaned it myself then hid it. It's now lost because I can't recall where I hid it. Oh well.

Going back to girly part deforestation - I did it every day for a year. At that point I had met my challenge of being that keen to rid myself of hair down there for a year which, in my mind, meant that I was serious about not having hair there. I had told Wade that if I got to the year mark it would tell me that that was the look I wanted to keep for life. Frankly, I don't see the point of pubic hair. What is the use of it? People have to generally trim it otherwise they end up having a huge next like the Zohan did (and that huge 70s afro look). People do those stupid 'landing strip' looks. What is the point of that? I think an arrowhead would look better (LOL) and there would be a point to that look, wouldn't there. And who the hell really needs to floss with pubic hair? So, what IS the point of pubic hair? And butt hair?! Wha?????????? I am anal (pun intended) about that and I jump in the bath after ... er... voiding (pooping) even though we use wet wipes (Huggies). I still run a shallow bath (though we had bidets in England I have NEVER used one nor would I if we had them here) and I wash my bits and bobs. But most people don't have a wash after a poop so butthair just adds to the whole dingleberry thing which is, well, gross. And then there are things that people do in that region which makes hairs there plain annoying. So, again, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

So I want to look into permanent hair removal down there. Wondering about laser hair removal or, perhaps, electrolysis. I don't think electrolysis is permanent, though. I do need to look into it, though. I am sure it's expensive (laser hair removal) so I will have to wait on that but, having cut myself twice today, I will have to look into it sooner rather than later because I don't want to grow hair back. And Wade likes it too - so smooth. :o)

Oh, I treadmilled and watched a really enjoyable film this afternoon. It was Forever Strong - a movie about rugby. Fun film and had a message. Good one to watch while working out for 100 minutes - full of energy. Had the family watch it after dinner. They all enjoyed it. Rugby is a real man's sport - no wussy pads for those men. No helmets either. And lots of bleeding!!!

Gotta do tomorrow's weights workout in a bit but won't have to do tomorrow morning's first treadmill straight after since the children are back to school tomorrow and I can do it at 8:30 since I have to be up early now school's back. I love watching all these weight loss adverts. Why do they do a big drive on them every bloody new year? Do it year round. It's not like people SUDDENLY gained weight over Christmas. I don't have to feel bad about myself this year, I guess, since I am the fittest I have ever been. I do want to look better so I will just keep what I am doing. But none of it will ever give me the breast reduction that I have needed since I was 20. Having said that, though, my bra size had gone down from 36H (tight and over-flowing) to 36DD (very loose around the ribs and baggy in the cup size). I am going to go to Kohl's this coming weekend and just try on bras. I want to find a bra size that actually fits me. I measured my ribcage the other day and it was 31" so I do need a smaller size anyway. I love having less boobage. I am just too damned short to be an H cup!

New Year's Day.

Waited till 1am to start my first treadmill of 2012. How I managed that I will never know. Obsessed much?

After walking uphill for 100 minutes (normal workout for me - twice a day) I decided I might as well get my weight training workout done. So, went up to my room and put a movie on Netflix and got too engrossed in it (husband was asleep and I had to wear a headset so he wouldn't wake up with the noise). After it was over (what was it? Oh it was The New Twenty - nice studly lead dude) I started doing my weights routine.

Last night I got Holly to help me dye my hair for the first time in years. Nice segue, right? Anyway, I haven't dyed it in years because nobody will do it in a salon for under a million dollars when your hair reached down to your knees and beyond and, when I can't reach the ends to brush it I don't see how I can dye it. Makes sense to me. So we dyed it and I'd had the dye for about 10 years, maybe less. Didn't realize till we were half way done that it was Rich Auburn Blonde! LOL What the hell was I thinking when I bought that? Was I senile back then? Blonde on dark brown hair is going to go orange. Luckily for me I don't ever want to have straw hair (like my cousin *cough*) so I have never bleached my hair. So, we dyed it. Why? Because I had finally got so fucking fed up earlier in the day when I'd been tripping up my 4 foot long hair strands on the floor that I asked my son to cut my hair. I'd stood there, my hair in a ponytail, for about 20 minutes... scissors poised behind my back (when did I grow eyes in my arse?) but was too chicken shit to cut it myself. I asked him (he was just stumbling out of bed at 4:30pm - we have no bed times in our house) and was happy (well, that's an exaggeration - he didn't care one way or the other.) to oblige and just proceeded to saw away at it. I have a lot of hair and he was snip, snip, snip, snip (proper hair cutting scissors... perhaps we should have tried a chainsaw. It certainly would have been quicker and might have left me with a straighter cut!) till he'd cut through the ponytail. Then I screamed. And screamed. And screamed. Then I got over it, braided it. Took photos and added it to the many other long braids we have kept over the past 10 years (all mine. Well, 2 are Holly's).

Where was I? I don't know. Thinking of doing my second treadmill workout of the day. Wait a minute. Did I sleep last night (after working out immediately after New Year was rung in)? Um, no. I did watch another film on Netflix before my bath. It was kitschy. No, not really. It was weird but the leads were studly LOL (notice a pattern here yet?). It was called The Wolves of Kromer. Fun.

Thinking of going to the gym (down 2 flights from our bedroom).