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Slow and Steady…you can say that again!

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I am officially at the lowest weight I have been since starting this “overhaul.”  I cannot really see a difference, I doubt anyone else can either.  I should have lost a lot more chub by now.  I can list a variety of excuses…(a full-time job, 2 kids, increased cyst pain, focusing on losing my hair, laziness, life) however, the truth of the matter is, I just need to try harder.

My adoring husband’s attempt at not making me feel like a total slacker, went something like this, “Well at least you didn’t gain any weight.”  Umm, thanks hon!

But I guess he’s right.  I don’t consider myself successful, but I also don’t see the past year as a total failure.

OK, now that I have addressed the weight loss progress/lack of progress, I’d like to discuss something else.  I hate the summer.  I hate the sun.  I hate the heat. I hate the humidity.  I hate sweat.  I hate the much-needed sunblock. On the other hand, my kids love being outside, swimming in the pool, running around, being kids.

  I realized a few mornings ago that I have developed some type of anxiety about going outside.  This cannot be normal or healthy.  Is this the beginning of an agoraphobia diagnosis?  I don’t think so.  I just think that I am stuck in some type of messed up rut.  I can go outside without having a panic attack, but I certainly have to psyche myself up for it.  Ever since I was younger, the heat screwed with my internal systems…I’d get headaches, my tummy would toss and turn until I finally got sick, my skin turns apple red within seconds, and so on.  I think facing those lovely side effects with two kids is what’s causing my anxiety.  I am making myself deal with this new-found psychological dilemma, so my kids can have a normal childhood.  I may have given them life, but they are saving mine.

“You’re The Prettiest Girl Ever Made”

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Tonight, as my 3-year-old daughter was doing the pee-pee dance, I rushed to help her onto the toilet. Smiling up at me, she said, “woo mom, that was a lot of work. Thanks, you’re the best mom, and you’re the prettiest girl ever made.” I cried a little. To her, I am the prettiest girl ever made. In my eyes…not so much!

I don’t think that I’m a hideous creature that should hide away in a dark, dank cave. But I would never consider myself pretty. And let’s not even mention my body image issues.

This little conversation with my darling daughter got me thinking. How does she define pretty? Does she factor in kind eyes, a friendly smile, a big heart? Whatever it is that makes up her definition of pretty, I hope it is never corrupted by her peers, the media, or worse….some boy. What will happen when she finally realizes that her views don’t exactly mesh with society’s? Will she be strong enough to hold tight to her convictions? Will she no longer see me as the prettiest girl ever made? I have all intentions of becoming healthier and more fit by then. Not to be “pretty,” but to be a positive influence in my children’s lives. So I can be around to watch them become the most amazing adults, adults who will change the world. So, my transformation is happening, slowly, but happening none the less. I have not been a very responsible eater the past few weeks, and I’m still struggling to get up an hour earlier to fit in a workout, but I know it will happen.

My heart aches when I think of my baby girl and my son having to grow up in a world so obsessed with looks. I worry daily that I passed along PCOS to my daughter, or I passed along some aspects of it to my son. Please don’t think that I don’t worry about the pressures my son will have to face, because I worry plenty. But, I have lived my life as a girl with PCOS and its appearance altering symptoms, and I know just how difficult it can be. I also know women who are considered beautiful by society’s standards and have suffered just as much as “plain” or even “ugly” women. Our culture is mean. If it were a character it would be this bitch! (Sara Michelle Gellar,Cruel Intentions)

I know that to be able to empower my daughter (and son) I need to empower myself. I am learning that my worth is not tied to my weight, or my hair! I’m learning to not hate my body so much. I’m learning how to transform it instead. I’m learning how to accept my diagnosis, learn as much as I can about it, and beat it. I’m learning to be strong for my daughter. As she grows, I will be teaching and living the following ideals, so that my daughter and my son will truly understand what makes a woman “pretty” AWESOME!

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“A Hair In The Head Is Worth Two In The Brush”

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I’m losing my hair.  I’m really losing my hair.  Lots of women say they’re losing their hair when they see extra strands in the shower or on their pillow.  My endocrinologist confirmed it for me.  My hair is falling out. Fuck you PCOS!! First you convince my pancreas to make extra insulin that my body doesn’t need, blessing me with a weight problem, then you screw with my menstrual cycle, then you rob me of my fertility and make me feel broken inside, then you decide to present me with growing/rupturing cysts each month that leave me gasping at times, then you deliver excess testosterone, causing hair to sprout up where it’s not supposed to, and now the coup de gras….you’re taking my hair.

I love my hair.  It was the only thing that ever made me feel beautiful.  I used my hair to hide behind when my weight continued to rise.  People would ask me what color dye my hairdresser used, and would scoff in jealousy when I told them it was au naturale.

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Now it’s thinning and falling out.  My doc suggested Rogain for women.  After doing some research, I’m all set (for now, we’ll see how desperate I get.) I did find a lot of helpful sites written by women with PCOS.  I am currently using a scalp treatment consisting of pure aloe vera gel, rosemary oil, and lavender oil.  It makes my hair feel amazing, but I smell like a freaking garden. I’m also taking biotin, retress, and a hair/skin/nail supplement. I have seen less hair falling out.  I’m not sure if I’m seeing any regrowth,but I’m hopeful.  I refuse to give up on myself.  I am going to take my body and my health back.  I’m tired of PCOS running the show.

It wouldn’t be a blog of mine without a period from hell reference…..

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Am I right Ladies?

photo 2Mother Nature, you Bitch!

When The World Says ‘Give Up,’ Hope Whispers ‘Try One More Time.’

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Hi, I once again have allowed fatigue and life to get in the way of my writing.  I didn’t write about the Boston Marathon Bombings.  There were plenty of news stories, blog posts, Facebook updates, tweets, and articles written.  Here’s what I have to say (the short and sweet version.)

I’m happy they caught the cowards.  I’m more than proud to be a Bostonian. I’m in awe of how the people from Boston and around the globe  validated that there are far more good people in the world than there are bad. I don’t care where the cowards came from, who their parents are, where they went to school, or how nice they were. I’d like to never hear their names again, or see their faces again.  I would like for all Bostonians to somehow always feel the sense of unity always display the courage, always offer the support, and always hold the pride that we have all experienced the last few weeks.

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“A heartbreak isn’t always as loud as a bomb exploding.  Sometimes it could be as quiet as a feather falling and the most painful thing is… nobody hears it except you.”

This past week was National Infertility Awareness Week.

Do you know the true facts about infertility? Chances are unless you’ve been affected by it yourself, you probably don’t. Even if you are affected, you may feel alone, depressed, or some how at fault for your condition when you are absolutely not to blame. Here are some basic data and statistics about infertility that you should be aware of (taken from Discovery Health and elsewhere):

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    In America alone, infertility affects over 6 million women and their partners – that’s about 10 percent of the reproductive age population. One in six couples will encounter difficulty getting pregnant and experienceinfertility to some extent.
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    Infertility is not always “the woman’s fault” – indeed, infertility affects male and female reproductive systems nearly equally. In approximately 30% of all infertility cases, there are both male and female factors causing difficulty in achieving successful pregnancy.
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    In approximately 30% of cases, the causes will remain “unexplained infertility” despite full medical work-ups and extensive diagnostic testing. This only points out the complicated nature and many causes of infertility, and how even today medical science cannot provide all of the answers.
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    There is no such thing as a “miracle cure for infertility”, despite thousands of websites and unscrupulous individuals promising such. The causes and reasons for infertility are far too numerous and different to all be “solved” by one single approach or drug product.
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    Infertility is a disease. Albeit it took until 2009 for the World Health Organization to officially define infertility as a disease. This was an important milestone in recognizing the serious medical nature of infertility and helping to bring it more recognition and hopefully governmental and scientific support.
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    Infertility is a disability. In 1998, the U.S. Supreme court held that infertility is a disability under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). However, most insurers in the United States still provide no coverage – or only extremely limited coverage – for medical treatment related to infertility. Many of those affected with infertility have to struggle in the workplace not just to afford expensive IF treatments but to receive fair treatment and understanding if they must take time off for procedures, testing, or rest during a difficult pregnancy.

Chances are you know someone who has suffered with infertility. You do, if you know me personally. I am not going to sit here and write my own story again.  You can scroll through my archives and find it.  I will leave you with some very powerful and thought provoking quotes.

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For every woman unhappy with her postpartum marks, is another who wishes she had them.

this sums up fertility vs infertility perfectly!

Everyone’s Got To Face Down The Demons…Maybe Today, We Can Put The Past Away

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I haven’t written in a looong time, and I’m not happy about it. Unfortunately, sometimes it’s difficult to find the time to sit down and think!

I have agonized over writing this post, as it may be considered hurtful or offensive.  However, my intention is not to offend.  I hope it causes pause, and possibly sparks a discussion.

“All men are tempted. There is no man that lives that can’t be broken down, provided it is the right temptation, put in the right spot.  ~ Henry Ward Beecher“

People like to throw around words like addict and junkie.  What most people don’t know is the person behind those labels.  Every addict is someone’s mother, father, son, daughter, sister, brother, friend.  It’s easy to judge people, especially people who appear weak.  But what makes a person an addict?  How did their life take such a different turn?  Is it genetic-do the actions of family  influence one’s addictive behaviors? Is it due to a mental illness? Can it be chalked up to just” bad” choices or “bad” friends?  Is is a  reaction to some type of trauma? Addiction is so complex, too many factors come in to play

I know many people who are addicts.  They are some of the most loving, caring, “nice” people…with a problem.  But, this post isn’t really about the addict, it’s about the people who love them.  I had a conversation with my cousin the other night about how from addiction, an absolute, all-consuming selfishness grows.  It’s not an “I’m a spoiled brat selfishness,” or an “I’m entitled selfishness.” It’s a feeling or desire that no one or thing can come between the addict and getting their needs fulfilled.  It’s not done out of hate, anger, or malice.  It controls the addict and leaves everyone in it’s wake destroyed.  It clouds the addict’s ability to see themselves how others see them. It distorts reality and their feelings of love and anger and support.  It tricks them into thinking that they aren’t the one with the problem, and that anyone who thinks otherwise is betraying them.

So what is one to do when this overwhelming selfishness starts to break down families and relationships? When this isn’t happening to you, it’s easy to simply say, “just walk away.” But for those of us who have experienced the gut-wrenching pain, the pain that makes you want to throw up, cry, hit a wall, and hide all at the same time, you know it’s not that easy.  So, you have offered acceptance, forgiveness, support, and love, and still the addiction and the selfishness continues.  Is walking away an act of defeat or abandonment?

I wholeheartedly believe the answer to this is NO!  It’s an act of survival.  If people spend their entire life trying to convince an addict that they are in fact addicted and require help, what kind of life will they have had?  You don’t stop loving or supporting, but you have to start living and growing.  And to be able to do that type of “living,” without an intolerable amount of guilt, is nearly impossible, but it needs to be attempted.

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So, be supportive, be calm, set limits, and be loving, and be brave.

And live!

Encouragement, A Little Push, And Letting Go

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My soon-to-be 6 year old son is slowly driving my husband and myself to the brink. He wanted to learn karate. We took him to karate 2 nights a week for about a year and a half. He liked it, he hated it, he refused to go, he willingly jumped in the truck some nights with a huge smile. Then he wanted to quit. We were hesitant, but baseball was starting and he mentioned wanting to play. So, sayonara Sensei and hello little league. (By the way, he was quite good at karate.)

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First time up at bat and my little slugger walloped the ball. He ran around the bases with this huge smile on his face. He liked it, he hated it, he refused to go, he willingly jumped in the truck some days with a huge smile on his face. Then he wanted to quit. We didn’t let him. He was good, and baseball is a quick season.

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Then he begged to play football. Our city doesn’t have a pop warner league, so we had to sign him up in another town. He loved it until he had to wear a helmet and pads. My son has a big head, so the helmet was quite large. He’s also a “sturdy little fella” so his pads were big in some areas to accommodate room in other places. I should also add that pop warner thinks it’s absolutely necessary and acceptable to run mini camps for 5 yearold kids. My son went to football in the dead of August almost every week night for hours at a time. That’s not fun. That’s no way to introduce a sport to a fun-loving little boy. The battles to go to practices and games became epic. My son would cry and yell and make himself sick. My husband would plead, yell, and make himself sick. I would scream and cry and wonder how to fix everything. We finally decided that before we completely ruin football for him, ( by the way, this kid was made to play football) we would let him ‘quit.’ We had him speak with his coach and explain why he wouldn’t be back. It went against everything we wanted to for him, but the poor little guy was miserable. (Plus, the main coach was a wicked tool, and when my husband attempted to help coach, my son saw it as way to further complain. It was not a very positive experience.)

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However, we didn’t want him sitting at home watching T.V. all day. We signed him up for fall ball, because he asked if he could. This time around, there were definitely more smiles than tears. His coach was awesome and he finished the very short season happy.

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Then winter hit….he wanted to learn to ski. We are lucky to live about 3 minutes from a cute little mountain known for teaching kids how to ski. We signed him up. His first time out, he came down the hill and turned all on his own. The instructor was stunned. He did great. The last two lessons began with his “I don’t want to go tantrums.” But, he did complete his scheduled lessons.

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Of course, he has always stated that he wants to be a hockey player when he grows up! I think we’ll put skating off until next year, since I’m not sure how much more our hearts and patience can take.

So, how much is too much pushing? Is it a “waste of money,” when you’re trying to help your son find what he loves to do? If he’s going to be really good, shouldn’t he have started at (insert whatever sport here) already? How do you learn to force your own wants and dreams for your child aside, so they can choose for themselves?

I love watching him have fun, but why does it always turn to “not fun” so damn quickly? Why does he never feel like he’s “good enough?” Where did his confidence go, who stole it? We have always fostered it and supported him. My mom told me that I learned to read in kindergarten because “I needed to.” She also told me that I came home one day and was sad because my dinosaur didn’t look as good as the teacher’s. I locked myself in my room and perfected my drawing until my dinosaur was better than the teacher’s. I don’t want my son to give up just because he’s initially not “good’ at something,but I also don’t want him to be a neurotic perfectionist either.

PARENTING is HARD!!!!!!

I know that he’ll find what he loves, and I’ll be his biggest fan, as always!

and currently, I think he wants to be a DJ, who can play the guitar, and has a severe slap shot! IMG_5677

Do Gingers Have Souls????

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This post is so far off of the topics of weight loss, getting healthy, being a better mom, and PCOS.  This is going to be a semi pissy rant. You may want to stop reading if foul language insults you in any way.

I was born a redhead.  When my paternal aunt visited in the hospital she whispered to my mom, “Don’t worry, we can always dye her hair.”  Thus began my life as a “ginger.  I did a little research into where the term ginger originated. There is a lot of bullshit floating around Google and Wikipedia surrounding the topic.

The following are a few examples of what I found:

Contrary to most people’s experience, ginger root (Zingiber officinale) is not the only ginger plant in existence. The ginger plant of Malaysia, Alpinia purpurata, is a brilliant red. In the late 18th century and the 19th century the British occupied parts of Malaysia (among other countries), and started coming into regular contact with the Red Ginger. This is the same period during which “ginger” came to mean “red-haired” or “red-plumed.” Brits were not fond of the Gaelic Celts, many of whom had red hair.  The term “ginger or ginga” took on a derogatory tone. “

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“Those whose hair is red, of a certain peculiar shade, are unmistakably vampires. It is significant that in ancient Egypt, as Manetho tells us, human sacrifices were offered at the grave of Osiris, and the victims were red-haired men who were burned, their ashes being scattered far and wide by winnowing-fans. It is held by some authorities that this was done to fertilize the fields and produce a bounteous harvest, red-hair symbolizing the golden wealth of the corn. But these men were called Typhonians, and were representatives not of Osiris but of his evil rival Typhon, whose hair was red.”

“Describing a redhead as a ‘ginger’ is actually a very old tradition (unfortunately). In ancient times, people believed that red hair was a sign that you had ‘stolen the fires of hell’, and were a witch. Since witches were rumored to use a lot of ginger in their potions and whatnot, they called any and all redheads ‘gingers’. It went out of style for a very long time but has somehow found it’s way back to present times. So maybe people should rethink their use of that word, since calling someone a ginger could have killed them centuries ago, whether you were joking or not.”

To be honest, I don’t really care where the term came from.  I’m almost positive that I don’t like it though.  The word itself is actually cute.  However, I’m beginning to hate it.  And this is probably why:

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And my all time favorite!

 

SERIOUSLY??????????????????????? What the hell? If someone ever kicked me because I had red hair, I’d punch them in the throat! This isn’t funny. I find no humor in it what-so-ever.

Ok Wonka, let’s discuss the theories that women with red hair have fiery tempers and are over-sexualized. I am a bit on the bitchy side and quick to get pissed off.  I don’t know if that’s because my hair is orange, I have a hormonal imbalance, or if I was just born that way.  I’d lean towards that last reason, but who the fuck knows. As for being over-sexualized… I don’t kiss and tell.

and um, her hair is not naturally that color! The drapes do not match the carpet if you know what I’m saying!

All kidding aside, Martin Luther King Day is coming up and I hope that everyone can put their political, cultural, sexual and any other type of biases aside and be nice to each other.  Because if you don’t, I may come for you in the dead of night and eat your soul!

For those of you who truly know me, you know that this post was written with a bit of sarcasm.  The term ginger doesn’t really bother me, except for the kicking part.  Redheaded step child on the other hand……

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Resolutions, shmezolutions…who needs em’

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Who loses 3 1/2 pounds over the Christmas holiday????? This girl!!  Now, I can chalk this up to two main factors.  ONE- I don’t like ham and I have to be in the mood for chili and meatballs.  This is what my amazing mom made for Christmas Eve.  I picked at the chips and onion dip (my favorite since as long as I can remember.) Five years ago, I started hosting Christmas day lunch/dinner.  I made prime rib the first year, YUM!!! Every year since then, my husband and brothers have requested chicken and eggplant parm.  Apparently this wee little redhead lass cooks bomb Italian food.  I just don’t like to eat it.  So, you guessed it, I picked at chips and dip again.  I stayed away from the deserts, and other snackies, and I didn’t even drink.  There are 2 unopened bottles of Moscato in my fridge. At least I’m all set for New Year’s Eve!

TWO- We, like most well-meaning parents went a tad bit overboard assisting Santa financially.  Therefore, I have no food in this house, except left over Italian, and no funds to buy any more!!! (I’m kidding, I’m pretty sure we have enough money to go food shopping, so don’t worry about us Mom!)

Let’s talk New Year’s Eve.  Referring  back to the “I hate most people” statement I made in a previous blog, it should not surprise you when I say, “I hate going out on New Year’s Eve, there are too many people, making jackasses out of themselves.  I would much rather stay at home, watch my husband and son make pizza, snuggle on the couch, fight to stay awake until midnight,and ultimately pass out around 11:20PM anyway.”

I am also not a big resolution person.  Let’s face it, most resolutions are forgotten about by February 20th, give or take a week or so.

HOWEVER,this year,I am making two promises to my husband and children.  I promise to be less of a crazy person, (no offense to any actual crazy people out there who may be reading my blog.) I also promise to make healthier choices.  I don’t want to be the mom who cannot run and play with her kids, or who doesn’t get in any pictures because she’s embarrassed by how she looks. I also don’t want to be the mom who has a freaking breakdown when we cannot find a hat, the popcorn spills all over the floor, or a stain won’t come out.  (And wouldn’t you know it, while I was typing this, my sweet little girl smushed gum into our living room carpet.) I have managed to stop stressing over the debt we have accumulated.  It is what it is, and we have to deal with it. When I pay the bills, I no longer cry and worry till I make myself puke.  This is a huge accomplishment.  But, I cannot figure out how to stop buggin’ over the little things.

And yes, my children are now yelling at our pets, this insanity needs to stop!         stock photo : Mom yelling at Girl with Speech Balloons-- child-like illustration

I thought that as the little things pile up, I eventually can no longer cope and I lose it.  My darling husband pointed out to me that I cannot deal with ANYTHING anymore.  So, now the entire “Internets” (see funny resolution cartoon above!) knows what my promises are.  I encourage all of you, no, I demand that if any of you see me doing something unhealthy (stuffing my face with something greasy and yummy, or sitting around when I should be moving) or you witness me at the early stages of a flip-out over something trivial, smack me, punch me in the throat, shriek at me…for the love of God, do something!!! They say it takes a village to raise a child, but in my case it’s going to take a mob to help me calm the fuck down and lose weight!

   Luv, Col

And the angels cried…

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It has been over a month since my last blog entry. Tis the season I suppose. With Thanksgiving, getting ready for Christmas, big changes at my work and the hubby’s, life has been beyond hectic. I tried to sit down a week ago tonight and write about the tragic incident in Newtown CT, but I couldn’t allow my mind to even attempt to process what had happened. Earlier that morning, a co-worker had left Boston.com open on a computer. I happened to walk by and noticed the bright red Breaking News banner. I called another colleague over and just pointed. At that time, the news was only reporting that there had been casualties. Throughout the day, as the news turned more and more disgusting, my usually loud, boisterous school grew more and more somber. Staff walked around with either vacant stares, or glossy eyes.

I left work and clung to my children. My husband had a hard time leaving for work that night. I wanted to watch the news, but it was just too much. I found myself scrolling over Facebook statuses that mentioned it. I was not being cold-hearted, I was in survival mode. I can not comprehend the pain the parents of those beautiful children are experiencing. I never want to. I, like every other parent in the world was thinking what if? And I, like every other educator in the world was thinking what if? My husband said to me, “this is probably hitting all you teachers a little more than everyone else, huh?” I thought about that for a minute. I love my own children more than life itself and I would not want to put myself in a situation that could possibly take me from them, but I also love my students and they too are someone’s world. I would do what I can only hope that Jake and Rowan’s teachers would do.  I would do what many others would do. So many people talk about how awful humans have become.  But every day, people do amazingly unselfish acts to help other people. There are millions of “good people” in this world.  Let’s not forget that.  Let’s always try to be “good people.”

I want to live each day to its fullest. I don’t want to worry about insignificant things like dirty dishes, unfolded laundry, pet hair on school uniforms, or mounting debt. Dishes will get washed, clothes will find their way to the appropriate drawers/closets, kindergartners will wear their clean uniforms to school and come home looking like they wore them to war, and bills will get paid.

Please have a very Merry Christmas, celebrate life with your families, give lots of long, tight hugs and tell people you love them.

12/14/12

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What Are You Thankful For?

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I’m not really sure where to start.  I am VERY thankful for so many people, and so many “things.”  As a woman with PCOS, I lived my life in fear that I would never be able to have children. Thanks to a dedicated doctor, and a very patient husband, I have two amazing, beautiful, and hilarious miracles! My children are my everything.

I am thankful for my husband, who puts up with all of my shit and  loves me the way I am, (chub and all.) My husband is an awesome daddy, and he works extremely hard to provide for us.

I am thankful for my family, who are probably the most supportive people you will ever meet. No family is perfect no matter how impeccable they appear to be.  Behind the smiles and closed doors, we all are dealing with difficult crap on a daily basis.  My family is no exception. (And by family, I’m referring to my immediate and extended families.) Time, distance, disagreements all get in the way, but when the shit hits the fan, all of those obstacles disappear, and I am truly thankful for that.

I am thankful for my friends, who make me laugh and listen to me cry. I miss some of them… a lot!

I am thankful for my job.  I am literally stressed to the fucking max on a daily basis, but I love it, and it pays the bills (well, some of them.)

I have truly been blessed with the most random, but also the most wondrous group of people in my life!

Now, let’s discuss Thanksgiving…..dinner.  As someone who is struggling with their weight, holidays are always on the list of possible catastrophes.  I am constantly on the lookout for tips on how to successfully navigate the abundance of holiday food traps.  Perhaps this lady has the right idea!

Our First Lady does have some stellar arms.  All you Republicans cannot take that away from her!

Some of you believe it’s wise to fuel up on Thanksgiving in preparation for Black Friday shopping.  I think you people have some significant psychiatric issues!  (Except you, Emily!) I know that I just wrote about how thankful I am for all of the people in my life, but that does not mean that I am thankful for all people. I’m going to let some of you in on a well-kept secret; people piss me off! I don’t enjoy being around most people.  It’s best for all involved if I do not partake in the carnage known as Black Friday.

So let’s recap…

 

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!