Category Archives: your health is your wealth and this is why I’m poor

September 11, 2015

Facebook is All Up in My Business. Literally.

By Steph

I’ve been sick the past few days, first with a migraine, then a serious allergic reaction which then caused another migraine. So I’ve just been a mess. I haven’t washed my hair or changed my clothes…I’m pretty fucking gross right now. But I have managed to brush my teeth at least once a day, so I feel like that’s a win for everyone.

Anyway. Before, during, and after a migraine I am always very slow thinking and confused. During an allergic reaction my blood pressure drops so I’m stupid then too.

So yesterday I sent a Facebook message to my friend Tara, but then I took a nap. When I woke up I was already out of my mind because I was getting a migraine AND I was super tired. I HAD JUST WOKEN UP, PEOPLE.

Sometimes getting in the bathtub helps my migraines. So I had napped…um…not clothed.

I woke up and saw that I had a Facebook message. I took my phone into the bathroom like people do and tried to read my message. Naked. While peeing.

SOMEHOW, instead of just showing me a message, I heard a strange ringing sound…not like a phone call…but kind of like a phone call. I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know if I had called someone, and if I had, then I had no idea who it might be. Suddenly I had this horrible thought that I might have just started a video chat.

I panicked. I admit it. I was NAKED, CONFUSED, and SITTING ON THE TOILET. So I threw my phone across the room. I cannot think of a single Facebook friend who I would want to see me naked, taking a piss, and barely coherent.

As I finished the details of urination, I heard a VOICE from my phone saying, “Hello? Hello?”

Now, the phone was facedown on the floor, but it has the back camera. And I still wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. I was still sure that I was not wearing clothes. Was someone looking through that little camera? Were they getting an upward view of my stuff?

I  was losing my shit for real, you guys. Losing it. I reached my arm as far away from me as I could, grabbed the phone, and ran back into my bedroom. I wasn’t thinking straight. Did I mention that I was still naked? I did what I assume any normal naked adult would do, which was shove the phone under some blankets and make a run for it.

After I found some clothes and tried to shake the cobwebs out of my brain (didn’t work), I delicately pulled the phone out and looked at it. It seemed okay. No voices were coming out of it.

I checked my messages and I had one from Tara asking if I was okay.

I answered back with, “Oh my fuck, did I just CALL you?”

She was like, “No, idiot.” So I told her what had happened and that I was scared to even touch my phone, and that I’d get on my laptop and chat.

Then, when I opened up messenger on my computer (phone safely shoved under a pillow) this is what I saw:

What. The. Fuck.

What. The. Fuck.

Obviously, I assumed this was her response to my accidental nude toilet video chat with who knows.

But. Tara says, “Wtf is that? I’ve never seen this in my life.”

I didn’t do it, she didn’t do it, Facebook was watching me pee, it was just too much. We agreed to put tape over all our cameras, hide our phones when we pee and/or are naked, and wear foil hats just in case.

THEN I get this message from my friend Michelle: “Hey gorgeous! Were you trying to get in touch with me?”

I told her the whole debacle and said, “I’m sorry if you saw me peeing.”

She laughed. And laughed. And laughed. And then finally told me that she DID NOT see me on the toilet. Whew.

She informed me that her phone had made a weird-ass noise and said it was me, voice messaging, so she did the obvious and answered it. Thankfully, she said the cameras were off. But that’s kind of an awkward situation, so maybe she was just trying to be nice instead of saying MY GOD you need to do some fucking landscaping and maybe stop eating so many poptarts!

Facebook was scaring me, but I was very thankful that nobody had to see me naked.

Then Michelle starts fucking with me, and I hear my phone making that weird ringing noise again and I almost run away from home and phones, and then my screen says Video Call so I just stared at it and nothing happened, although I DID have clothes on this time so I guess it would’ve been ok.

She’s all, “I wasn’t messing with you, I just wanted to see what would happen.”

WELL, MICHELLE, NOW YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS. I AM TRAUMATIZED FOR LIFE.

Michelle: We’re like cavemen seeing fire for the first time. AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH RUN AWAY!

Me: What happens if I do this….*jumps back and screams*

She had to go do grownup things like go car shopping with her husband without stabbing him. So she told me bye and to try not to show my twat to strangers.

I told her I could probably do that, but I didn’t think she could. (The car thing, not the twat thing.)

Then she had the bright idea that maybe she should do the twat thing while negotiating. “They might give us a discount if I just put it away for godsake.”

Me: If they aren’t giving you a good deal, just flash your vag. Do it.

Michelle: I will.

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38 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Just Being Awesome, random bullshit, total chaos, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

February 6, 2015

I’m not prepared to make these kinds of sacrifices.

By Steph

I turned 35 a few months ago, and since then, strange and unsettling things have been happening.

Let me start at the beginning.

I started this new medication and it didn’t do what it was supposed to do, but it did inflate my ass by about 20 pounds.

Obviously I stopped taking it. Now, one would think that at that point, those 20 pounds would melt away, slip off the way they slipped on, get the fuck outta here.

No. *shakes head sadly* No, friends, I have learned that THAT IS JUST NOT HOW IT WORKS.

I have sat on my pajama-clad ass eating cheese quesadillas for months now and that weight just isn’t going anywhere. It’s baffling, really.

Five days ago I smoked my last cigarette. In the past five days I have consumed roughly 1,000 peppermints.

Obviously I did not major in fucking geology, because clearly I don’t know how calories work.

I have gained three. more. pounds. And that is not the worst part. Oh no.

My chin is…having a baby. It’s a chin baby. I have a baby chin growing under my other chin and it’s…it’s distressing.

I don’t think I’m ready for this jelly.

All my life people have said, “You’re too skinny! Have some pie!” And all my life I’ve said, “I LOVE PIE!” and now this goddamned aging is RUINING EVERYTHING.

I’ve been thinking about my options. I don’t like any of them. It seems like a real dick move that on top of trying to quit smoking I have to worry about this chin thing! Wtf, life? I mean, really. WTF.

Obviously I have to slow down my consumption of peppermints. Like maybe only eat one when I want a cigarette 25 a day instead of just constantly having one in my mouth from 10 am to 10 pm. I can work with that.

I could start walking, except I have anxiety about bears and dogs and snakes.

I could start doing yoga again as long as I lock up my judgmental fucking cat first. (She is looking at me right now with one eyebrow raised, like “I’m the reason you don’t exercise?” I told you, she’s judgmental.

Bitch, please.

Bitch, please.

I just googled “Chin exercises” but I’m not even really sure why since I can’t even be counted on to do a Kegel.

Mostly they said make stupid faces while looking at the sky or just get over it and get a haircut.

I have an appointment this weekend. I wonder if bangs help?

What was your favorite age? Least favorite? Do you have a chin baby? We should get them together for a playdate.

 

36 Comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in random bullshit, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

November 10, 2014

Aging Ungracefully

By Steph

I went to the doctor this morning and she wants to give me some injections in my neck. There was a question of whether or not I wanted to be sedated. Silly question. I ALWAYS WANT TO BE SEDATED. In any given situation, I can pretty much guarantee you that I would rather be sedated. I have two teenagers. I’d like to be sedated for the next 6 to 13 years.

My neck has been giving me problems for years but now that I’m getting older it is getting worse. I know that it’s getting worse because I can feel it and I know that I’m getting older because my kids NEVER STOP MENTIONING IT.

My birthday is this month. Most days I feel about 80, 85, but I’m actually only going to be 35.

Only.

My family and I saw an old friend of mine the other day and Thing 2 couldn’t wait to say, “I can’t believe you guys went to school with her! She looks so much younger than you!”

No, I didn’t smack him but I thought about it.

Then today we ran into another old friend and here he goes again. This time he says, “How come everyone you went to school with looks younger or older than you?” Um, because they have to be one of the two? Knowing I wasn’t going to like the answer, I asked the question anyway.

Then this happened.

This was a full cup of chocolate milk.

This was a full cup of chocolate milk.

How I managed to do that, I will probably never know, but I do know that 20 ounces of chocolate milk can cover a lot of territory in a car and it’s very, very sticky.

Since my birthday is coming up, my husband has been giving me little gifts all month long. (I KNOW, RIGHT?) This was his latest and I absolutely love it for so many reasons. It is warm and cozy. It has pockets. It has a hood. And it embarrasses the crap out of my kids who deserve it because they keep calling me old.

onesie

Is there a better gift in this world than a bright blue adult onesie WITH POCKETS? No. No, there is not.

 

39 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in parenting, shit my family says, small humans, total chaos, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

October 5, 2014

The Spoon Theory

By Steph

my spoons

Warning: This is not a funny post. It is about chronic illness. I’d really like you to read it. I promise I’ll attempt to be funny next time. I’ve been dealing with a lot of health issues this past week and I’ve felt very helpless and misunderstood. I want you all to know that I am not asking you to feel sorry for me. I don’t want anyone to pity me. I just wish everyone could understand what life is like with chronic illness and the Spoon Theory, I think, is one of the better ways to describe it.

The Spoon Theory basically says that with chronic illness, you start the day with a certain number of spoons, when a healthy person would start each day with an unlimited amount.

Pretend you wake up and you have 12 spoons.

It costs you a spoon just to get out of bed because your entire body is one giant ache and you never feel like you got any sleep. Next you have to walk down the hallway and wake up the boys and get the daughter’s clothes for school. This costs a spoon because this early in the morning you have the most intense pain and sometimes can barely walk. You have to use one hand to uncurl the other hand because they don’t want to work yet. You can hardly lift the coffee pot to pour coffee. You think about asking your husband for help and then feel guilty because he is going to work and you are not. It costs you a spoon to get yourself mentally under control and continue getting the kids ready to go to school. If you made lunches the night before that’s good, but if you were too tired then you have to do it now and that will cost you a spoon because of all the bending and walking and you are still in a lot of pain.

The kids and husband leave for the day and you are left with 8 spoons. The house is a mess. Do you have to go anywhere today? If you do, you can’t do anything else because driving and running errands or just running around town will take all the rest of your spoons. All of them. You will be in so much pain and so exhausted by the time you get home that you will be unable to do anything else.

This day, let’s say you get to stay home. So you do the dishes and maybe start a load of laundry. Take away a spoon. You need to think about your depression and do something positive so you will color or write in your journal or meditate or do yoga. This costs at least one spoon, depending on what you decide to do.

Remember, you haven’t showered, gotten dressed, or even brushed your teeth yet. You get dressed and brush your teeth and you are tired, so tired. It costs a spoon.

You’ve got 5 spoons left and it isn’t even noon. The house is still a mess. If you really, really clean it, it will cost all of your spoons for today and probably some of tomorrow’s. You need to eat but you are so nauseous that you can’t, plus you hate to waste a spoon just to feed yourself. You decide to watch t.v. for a while and rest. You think about taking a nap, but you can’t because you are too anxious and feel like you can’t breathe. It costs a spoon to get your anxiety under control.

You have 4 spoons left. The house is still a mess. You still have to figure out something for dinner or maybe your husband will bring something home. You better have him bring something home, because you will have to use at least 3 spoons to check the kids’ backpacks, sign papers, help with homework, and generally be present as a mother when they get home. You won’t be able to make dinner, and since you’re still nauseous, won’t be able to eat it either. It is 7 pm and you’ve only got one spoon, but your daughter still needs a bath and you didn’t even shower today. You still have to pack lunches and make the coffee for in the morning and your husband hasn’t gotten any of your attention. You feel like a failure as a wife and a homemaker and a mother. You feel so sorry for your family because you don’t have enough spoons to do everything you want to do for them. The stress leads to a migraine. You are down for two days, crying and throwing up and maybe going to the emergency room. This takes all of the spoons for those two days, and possibly some from the third day because you are exhausted after such a bad migraine.

So that’s basically the spoon theory, and basically my life. I didn’t mention allergic reactions, and I think I actually spend more spoons on managing my health and depression, but you get the idea.

It takes all my spoons just to get through a day doing the bare minimum. If I want to take the kids somewhere fun, that’s all my spoons. If I want to go out to eat with a friend, I have to realize that I will not be able to do something else. If I have a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon, I better lay down all morning.

I have a really hard time dealing with my health. It makes me incredibly sad to not be able to do the things I want to do. I hate having to plan my day around what I feel physically and mentally capable of. I hate that I don’t have enough spoons. I hate that by looking at me, you can’t see how hard I fight every day. I hate thinking that people think I am hateful or lazy because I don’t do things and I cancel plans all the time. I hate that I have to budget my energy and my time.

The Spoon Theory was written by Christine Miserandino at www.butyoudontlooksick.com. You can check it out at http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/

Does The Spoon Theory apply to you? If so, what things do you do to stay positive, knowing that you’ll be counting spoons for the rest of your life? Do you find that you judge yourself more harshly than anyone else does? I know I do. Don’t you love my nail polish?

**EDITED TO ADD: I love each and every one of you. I swear I feel stronger with every kind comment and it really means so much to me that you take the time to send me your thoughts. I might cry, guys. You are all my favorite.

59 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in random bullshit, thoughts, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor

September 24, 2014

Relaxation Gone Wrong

By Steph

Recently I took some classes on relaxation. Because apparently I am so uptight that I need someone to literally teach me how to unwind.

Some of them were ridiculous and some seemed to have some merit, but my favorite one featured a guided meditation soundtrack.

A smooth and mellow voice urged me to relax my neck and shoulders, relax my back, relax, relax, relax, all while soothing music played in the background.

The room was quiet as everyone slid into a trance-like state of relaxation and meditation. There were about 15 of us, each with our eyes closed, following the directions which were almost whispered to us.

I could feel myself floating off, almost lifting up off my beanbag, I was so boneless. It was working. I was limp and weightless.

Then the disembodied voice ruined it all by saying, “Now, I want you to relax your genital area. Just let go.”

EXCUSE ME? Insert squealing tires and screeching brakes.

No one else seemed to notice, but I think at least half of them were asleep.

How on earth…why would you want…I’m sorry. Whatever my genitals are doing is none of your business, lady. I had visions of everyone pissing themselves because of this horrible suggestion. It just totally ruined the mood for me.

After class, I tried asking (between giggles) if anyone else had heard that command, but no one had. So now I am wondering if she even said it to begin with. But if she didn’t…what the fuck did she say? What sounds like genital area? How (and for fuck’s sake why) did I hear genitals if she didn’t say it?

This reminds me of a time when I was in a really loud bar and a friend told me that she had cheese in her pants. I was horrified, drunk, and could not understand why the girl was smuggling cheese into a bar, especially since we had already eaten. It was days before I learned that she was bemoaning the cheese ON her pants, not the cheese IN her pants. *shakes head*

Do you think the meditation lady was tryin’ to get all up in my private business? Do you think this class would work better for me if I wasn’t a 12-year-old boy? Has a soothing voice ever offered you terrible advice? What the ever loving fuck sounds like genital area and is located below the stomach but above the legs?

****EDITED TO ADD: THIS IS REALLY A THING! I AM NOT CRAZY. Or, at least, not having auditory hallucinations. http://alternativeculture.com/spirit/chakras.htm Apparently, your butthole is a chakra. Or something like that.

41 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in Just Being Awesome, random bullshit, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor