Time to Calm Down

Aloha my loves,

I was just starting this blog post and was going to write "First thing: Just breathe" and then realized that the card I chose yesterday to display (these are called Calm Cards) was well, the pic above.

You see, I'd forgotten. 

I'm in a bit of a manic phase right now. There's so much going on with 2 jobs and doing all these appointments/tests in the hope of getting bariatric surgery that I forgot to stop. Take a breath. 

Yesterday I scheduled myself an appointment for today to get shots: Covid booster, flu, shingles. I need them all. But I don't need them all today. I don't need them immediately, I don't need to run out and move, move, move. Because the moving isn't doing me any favors. The manic action isn't helping me. Filling my plate knowing that at some time the pace will hurt me, the action will cause a crash...

So I'm stopping today. Taking a deep breath. Resetting. 

I did the same thing with my finances. I paid my bills and left myself less than $100 for the week despite needing to get gas, having dinner with a friend tomorrow night and planning to make family dinner Sunday night (I'm craving curry so I'm going to make a chicken curry stew). What the fuck was I thinking? Especially because I stopped and thought carefully and realized that I pre-paid a bill I didn't have to pre-pay because I now have a second source of income.

So I cancelled the payment. Now I have enough money to do what's planned without worry as well as knowing that I'll have the bill paid without sweating. 

Breathe. Calm down. Think before you act.

I'm learning. I don't want to crash. I don't need a panic. It's going to be fine. Self care starts with breathing. Let me catch my breath.

People Blow

 Hey Friends,

yesterday was a weird day. I spent most of the day doing the Covid testing and a few hours doing my primary job at home. And it really kind of disappointed.

There were only 4 of us doing the testing and the other 3 women are super nice. Caring, friendly, funny. We all get along well, support each other. They are all aware that I'm physically limited and they do all the set up and break down without me with no complaints. And I know they all smoke and take frequent vape breaks and I don't care. So we all adapt to each other.

But yesterday, for some reason, I was just so annoyed by them. And maybe I was just in anti-social form but t was tough being with them. I was so glad to get home at the end of the day and know I wouldn't have to see any of them until Friday.

And the Bariatric support group was a nasty mess yesterday. My God, every other post was a complaint about surgery going wrong and political comments and just so messy I almost wanted to sign off Facebook again. I like the group because it's usually uplifting and positive. Full of weight loss stories and food suggestions and advise and happiness. When it turns into the mess it was yesterday, man oh man. Makes me reluctant to do surgery with all the horror stories and makes me want to hide in bed for a week.

Today I went back on the group and it wasn't as negative a vibe this time. Wow. Blow out. 

Great news: Monsta X is releasing a Korean album in November and an English album (their second) in December. Two albums in two months. Thank God I got a second job because these boys are expensive. But I'm so happy. I love their music and this is pure joy.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Pucker Up

 Dear Youse Guys,

I did not think that working that extra job would kick my ass. I think it's just doing some driving again, working with people and although it's a simple strain (it really is an easy job) it is still work and therefore exhausting. Also, the Waimea gym where I'm at 2 days a week is a goddamned wind tunnel so we're all bundled up but still freezing, everything is blowing away and that weather exhausts a person.

So I had appointments with the Bariatric group's dietician and nurse practitioner. I LOVED the dietician. We talked about the surgery and she answered my page full of written questions. The APRN (Nurse Practitioner) visit wasn't as great but that was because she was going over my chart and there's more tests and all I have to do. (Liver Ultrasound, start Vitamin D, redo certain labs).

The best part though was the after visit summary they sent me which gave me the list of things I need to do which one of the things on the list was: do not gain weight. That just tickled me and I don't know why but I loved it.

So I did have a bad eating moment. I went to the store and bought chips and cookies. I was unfortunately starving and exhausted and those two together have been the downfall of greater people than me. There was a feeling in my head that started in my belly: I was hungry. Instead of being smart and figuring out a healthy way to deal with it, I went to the store and let my needy side out which became 2 packs of Oreos, a bag of Fritos, a bag of Cheetos and gummy bears.

1 pack of Oreos is gone (I gave it to someone else). The Fritos, I hate to admit, were almost all eaten (I was hangry). The others are in a drawer. I have to think about this and come up with a better understanding of why I want this food, will it satisfy me, can I toss it? Can I replace it? Does it provide me with something I can or can't get elsewhere?

It's weird because I can make good choices and I can make bad ones. Really understanding the why of the bad choices, and why so much? In that moment of being hungry and needy, did I slip into a younger skin that saw the hunger as a gaping hole that couldn't be filled? What would have been a better choice that would have satisfied the huger and the teenager with the hole inside? 

How will I ever give that younger girl what she needs so she stops asking for it?

Obviously one of the points of this journey is to understand these questions and try to figure out some of these answers. It's hard. Which is also probably another reason I'm so damned exhausted.

Round-Up

 Hello Friends,

a few things happening in life recently worth mentioning (at least in my mind because let's face it, I have The Lori Show running in my head constantly but I'm truly its only viewer). But anyway...

I started a second job. 3 days a week I'm doing county Covid testing. It's a temp position through January unless they extend the funding. It's easy and enjoyable. Gets me out of the house, I get to see and interact with people and they pay me. So it really is all good. And it's coming just when I was worrying about buying Christmas gifts.

The march toward surgery goes forward. Tomorrow I have appointments with a dietician and physician and next week with the psychologist. I also have a sleep study scheduled in 2 weeks which is so weird. I know I don't have sleep apnea but because of my size I have to do the sleep study. And of course I will because I want the damned surgery.

I'm watching Love Is Blind: Brazil on Netflix. That's the show where people get engaged without seeing each other and then have 4 weeks together before deciding whether or not to get married. The first show in America, two of the couples remained married. I'll be amazed if any of these couples survive. Brazil certainly is not as feminist and the men have some macho shit going on that's going to bite them in the ass.

Not reading much right now. Essays from Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay. She's brilliant and her writing is assessable. The third Paladin book in T.L. Kingfisher's series dropped and I started it and it's good but I haven't picked up my Kindle in awhile. 

Anyway, that's what's going on in LoriLand. 

Where Were the Squids?

 Hello Friends,

there's so much going on right now so let's take a moment to talk about something important that's taken over the news recently: The Squid Game.

Did you watch it?

So Squid Game is on Netflix and it's a South Korean series (9 episodes) and it's bloody as hell. Completely engrossing. Fascinating. Made me curse, cry and and cringe numerous times.

Premise: super rich assholes who have no interest in life invite 456 people to a remote location to play childhood games. The winner will win 456 billion won. (Won = $$) The drawback: when you lose a game, you die.

So the first game is played and half the people are killed and everyone says "WTF! Get me outta here!" and they all leave but then they all come back to play and they cheat, lie, show their horrible sides and even their heroic sides until the last man is left standing.

Doesn't sound very good, does it?

So why is it as popular as it is? Because the absolute despair, the crippling lives these people are living that brings them to this place where the only options are death or a 1 in 456 chance of winning a childhood game is a little bit too close to many of us. When every day you wake up and think you can't do it anymore, or you're at your limit and then something else happens...

And the fascination of watching even the best person cheat to stay alive. When you invest in a character and then see what happens when they're out of options, out of chances. Because you hope for a character to survive and they don't. And some of them break your heart because they don't betray their own hearts.

It's manipulative as hell. It's also well made and engrossing. There's a sub plot with a cop which is super uninteresting but the actor is gorgeous (he starred in the K-romance "Romance is a Bonus Book" so even though his story was yawn, it was nice to watch him.)

Anyway, if you can stand blood and want to get lost in darkness, Squid Game is perfect. Carolyn: stay away from it.

This Blog

 I think that there's a person or two reading this who isn't my red-headed BFF in Alabama. And if you've known me/me & Carol/Carol for any amount of time then you know this blog has been around for years and it's been a real roller coaster for us.

Sometimes we write. A lot of times we don't. And recently it's been Lori writing and Carolyn posting a sentence in response. And I wanted to explain that I'm choosing to write my blog posts as a Dear Carolyn because they're personal. It feels righter to me to address them to someone when I'm talking about my body image, my weight, the infection under my belly.

I hope there isn't someone out there who feels that because it says Dear Carolyn that they aren't invited to be part of the conversation. As long as the conversation isn't you fat fuck, go on a diet! then all if good and all are welcome.

And Carolyn's small responses are to let me know she read the post. We have long conversations daily in which we talk about... well... everything including these posts, our families, our frustrations and why Chris Helmsworth will always be the superior Chris although Chris Pine is a sexy ass Chris for the ages. She doesn't write longer responses because she's doing it on her Kindle and it's a little limiting sometimes.

Anyway, if you're out there, I hope you feel welcome. If you don't: let me know. I can certainly make it feel more inclusive if you feel excluded.

Love to you all. Except anyone who thinks Chris Pratt is the superior Chris because you're insane and need to go sit on the naughty step for awhile.

My 600 Pound Life

 Dear Carolyn,

I never had any interest in watching this show previously but then recently you mentioned it and now I'm addicted. It's the background soundtrack of my life currently.

So yesterday when I was watching, a woman of 300+ pounds bought new clothes and fit in a smaller size than I do which wigged me out (as you know because I sent pictures and enraged text messages). And then chilled because clothing size is so subjective anyway. I fit in anything from X-L to 4X. Material, cut and country of origin have a lot of differences with sizing.

But I was thinking further about the show and my emotional reaction to it and finally realized why it was so much to me: because I weigh 600 pounds too!

Of course I don't. As of this morning I weigh 217.4 pounds. But there's no difference between a 600 pound woman and myself in my mind. In my mind, we're the same size. We walk alike, eat alike, look alike. I am all stomach and thighs and flapping upper arms. I have skin infections from my skin rubbing against other skin, my knees are shot and I can eat a bag of potato chips at one sitting without a thought.

My ankles and feet swell sometimes. I smell from the infections and the weight. I never look good or bad: I just look fat. Lately with the progression of knee pain and degeneration, I walk in small, small steps because walking has become very problematic.

So logic tells me that I'm not 600 pounds. I don't have lymphedema, I can see my knees, my heart is healthy. I'm not diabetic, my cholesterol is okay and yadda, yadda, yadda. But oh that pesky self-image. That crazy skewed viewpoint that a 600 pound woman is my twin. That I'm so out of control and so fat that no one would see the difference between us because I don't.

With that kind of body dysmorphia it's not a surprise that I'm falling into the rabbit hole of obsession. I know better but I don't feel it. My mind is both right and wrong and confusing the fuck out of me.

I'm really pleased that part of this journey includes psychological guidance. It's something to think that I'm 63 years old and have been dealing with body image since my teens and am no closer to moving ahead. Maybe I never will. Maybe this is the journey to put it to rest. I really don't know. All I do know is that I'm glad it's finally on the table and being addressed.

Lori