Bi And Large

Just lost a whole post, dammit. I'll try to recreate it.

You know what really bothers me and gets under my skin? When I see ads or articles that state things like, "Designed to Fit Every Woman's Curves" or "Sweaters on Sale - All Sizes!" or "Jeans for Real-sized Women" or "Fashion for Any Body." Then if I am foolish enough to go and look in the store or magazine, I'll find that their sizes go up to like an XL; or the article will briefly mention plus sizes with a small photo of a size 10 model with a shadow of some hips.

"Fit for EVERY WOMAN!"

But not for me.

In fact, most times, not even close, not even in the same ballpark.

And for years, this message percolated around in my subconscious with the only logical conclusion I could draw from it. If those jeans are for ANY woman, and they don't fit me, I am not a woman. If those clothes are for EVERY WOMAN, and they are clearly not for me, I must therefore not be a woman, by definition. I am... what? Not a man, I knew. So? An other. This pretty much rang true, I mean I already knew that my experience was vastly different from the experiences of the woman I knew around me and the women I saw portrayed in any media. This just sealed the deal. But it left me wondering, what then, was I? It left an unfortunate opening, an opportunity. And when people (sad people, who must have been hurting and insecure themselves, I know now) called me names in the street or school or wherever, instead of just rolling off my ample back they would stick. And I would consider them, and yes, maybe that was in fact what I was. A Bitch, Lardass, Beast, Jabba the Hut, Blubberbutt, Sumo, Sasquatch, Fatass, Lard-O, Thunderthighs, Fat Fuck, Cunt. Maybe (this is what my subconscious brain came up with) this thing I was was so hideous and disgusting that it had no name, and all of these other names that people called me were used to refer to it. I really believed this, for many years, and every time I saw one of those ads or articles I was reminded of how marginalized I was and how unlike other, normal people.

Recently, maybe a couple of years ago, this thought process clicked into my conscious mind and I saw it for what it was. And ever since, I have worked hard on reclaiming my right to identify as a woman. It is very difficult for me sometimes - most of the time, in fact! I still know I am different from most women, and my experiences are never going to be just like theirs. But you know, no ones experiences are just like everyone else's. There's no "normal," honestly. I've been able to form deeper friendships with the women in my life and I understand that we're all "real-sized." And heck, to an extent we're even all marginalized too. Every one of us is a minority in some way. If it's not our weight then it's our ethnicity, or religion, or ability, or income, or political views, or so on. I embrace the whole, wide specrum of what womanhood entails, and I know it welcomes and includes me. I'm a wife, a mother, a woman.

And ads be damned - I would be even if I weren't wearing any clothes!

Mom made it through her surgery, leg intact and all. That makes six major surgeries in the last couple years for a long term diabetic. Whoot!

It took longer than they thought, and she is having a LOT of pain in recovery, something she was scared of. My dad is having a hard time with that I think. He was calling me all last night, like in the middle of he night, just to chat. I think none of us knew just how worried we were. I know I was on edge and I cried all day Monday. I think the surgery took from like 7am to 4pm or something crazy. They were able to only take bone for the bone grafting from one hip, which makes recovery better, and her surgeons seem pleased. Now if she can only get by with no infection. Please, please, please.

All going well, she will probably come home on Thanksgiving. If you think of it, say a prayer for her health and her strength and her pain. She's struggling.

I know, all I do is complain sometimes. But think of this blog as my place to vent - when things are going smoothly, I am much less likely to post here! So you, my darling readers, get a skewed view with only the worst coming through. Sorry. I still need my place to vent.

So.

Last week my mom was here visiting, which was wonderful, but VERY stressful and crammed with way too much activity and pressure. We heavily overdid it and we have been paying for it in a big way.

So this week, we've been trying to take it gently and give ourselves some down time, before our bodies just give up. But, as my mother diplomatically said after arriving home after the trip, "I apologize - I don't think I ever realized how much you do and how much energy it takes just to maintain an even keel around 2 kids that age! It's exhausting!" (She must have forgotten?? Seeing as my brother and I are only 18 months apart and she raised us essentially as a single parent, which I cannot even FATHOM, the poor woman.) Iris is at the tail end of a growth spurt and while she has at least stopped eating like a black hole, she has now stopped sleeping and she is soooooo cranky. It's evil. Plus any time you adjust from the fun and spoils of grandma being there 24-7 back to normal life, there is a let down and that is rough emotionally. The kids have been basket cases.

I have some crazy thing going on with my tailbone. I don't know what I did to it or how, but it has hurt horribly since I had the flu, so for like 2 or 3 months now. Some days it is so bad I can't sit on the stools at work to do my job, or I can't drive. My boss and my wonderful sister-in-law (who is a physical therapist) have tried to help but it is so far a no go. The pain is getting to me, man. I can't find a comfortable position and sometimes it feels as though my spine is actually poking out through my skin. I can't keep taking this level of pain killers! It makes it hard to sleep too. With the no sleep I have been so wiped out. And I found out today that the iron pills I have been taking (I have chronic anemia) aren't cutting it, and even ON them I am severely low on my levels, so my energy is just gone. Without red blood cells (and thus without oxygen) I am just not functional. I inherted the anemia from my mom, and hers used to get so bad even on supplements they would have to hospitalise her and do blood transfusions, so I am hoping to avoid that scenario!

Speaking of mom, her final surgery is Monday and she is scared. I don't remember her commonly being scared or anxious about her surgeries. She is worried about being in pain, worried about the recovery, worried about how it is all going to go. This one is kind of a last ditch to save that leg before they amputate. It's the end of the line, you know? And what would be a nightmare is if the same thing happened as did with the earlier ones - infection. Those weeks and months of being on an IV and so sick are brutal. And always at the back of your mind is the knowledge that as a long term diabetic she is on borrowed time with all these procedures and infections. Also this time if they are doing bone grafting from her hips, will that be particularly painful, there's just a lot of questions. I am a bit worried about the surgery but mainly worried about her and how she is coping. I'm trying to cheer her up and distract her but it only works so far. It is taking a lot of my emotional energy to cope with that.

Then there's me and my various issues. I went to see the oncologist / surgeon today and was given the official all clear: My mass in my breast is benign. That's GREAT NEWS!!!!!! And I am very happy and relieved and I am done with that whole thing! That appointment was this morning (Friday,) and the lead-up to it was just horrible. I was so tense, even though we were 99.99% sure that was going to be the verdict. So the past few days have been very rough, although now that worry is off my back. Or off my breast, if you will.

So, just because I can't be normal; I was in to see my gyn on Tuesday about my evil heavy periods, which I have talked to him before about. I am pretty sure when we were doing fertility testing before Iris they noted I have fibroids, and that's probably the issue, but whatever. Because I am, how can I put this... an endocrine clusterfuck?? my gyn doesn't want to put me on hormones. I respect that. So my next 2 options are either an ablation or a total hysterectomy. So when I was in on Tuesday talking to him he says, well we need to know what's going on in there, let's do a biopsy, and based on those results we'll decide. So he did an endometrial biopsy. Let me tell you. THAT is a good time. Legs up in stirrups, speculum and all, PLUS this implement that looks like gardening shears going into your hooha, and bits of your uterus getting snipped out for a closer look under microscope. It's a bloody mess. I have felt like utter vomit ever since. We should have those results Monday. If everything looks clear, I'll do the ablation. If I have any cancer cells, I'll do the hyster. But either way I am done!

I should note that when I went in on Tuesday I went after work, so I was in my scrubs. And while I'm feeling like crap and filling out paperwork in the lobby this older woman sitting next to me says to her companion, in a VERY loud voice, "I don't think they should let people like THAT work in hospitals. That's just disgusting." I happened to look up just then as I was thinking about an answer on the sheet and got the full force of their dirty looks. What does one say to that? I smiled, I didn't know what else to do. Nice, lady in the waiting area. Way to be real darned pleasant to a stranger who needed a doctor. You win the zero compassion award for the day.

Also this week: a couple days earlier in the week was my annual review at work. Only 2 and a half months late! Now I love my job. If you read this blog you know, I love my job. But my boss is just, well, ridiculous. He is critical, and petulant, and vindictive, and he has a history of throwing employees under the bus on a whim - including firing them at their 1 year mark to avoid paying them a raise. So heading into my annual review was not a relaxed mark-the-anniversary experience. I bit my fingernails all off this week in anticipation and I have burst into tears more than once. It turns out I came away from it with my position intact, although of course I got no more money out of it. The actual review was grueling, and for no reason. I sweated.

After the review, I decided to get a massage. So I booked one, nd ended up with a very bizarre, untrained therapist. She not only gave me a terrible massage, she injured my shoulder and lower back (right where I was already hurting! Wah!) and spent the entire time talking about her drug use and prostitution history. (!!!) I was horrified. So I have called the spa to complain, and I have had to really push them on that, which is very frustrating for me. I HATE complaining about anything, and doubly so when it gets someone else in trouble. I just haven't felt like this was the kind of thing I could let slide though, but forcing it has taken a lot of the fight out of me. I just don't have the reserves to deal with it right now.

So while I'm dealing with all of this, this week has also been exams week for Pete, and his last 2 exams ever (fingers crossed, barring any major issues) before he is done with his degree. So he has been a bit of a basket case as well, and has needed a lot of time to himself to study and focus on that, and the stress has made him more than a little touchy. I am really, REALLY glad they are done and I do hope they go well. The timing of it all was insane.

So topping it all off - and I swear you can't even make this stuff up - yesterday we get a phone call from my mom and it appears my dad went in to work and found his boss slumped over his desk face down with an empty bottle of pills and a note. STOLEN pills no less, stolen from the store they work in. Dad and the boss' secretary found a pulse, called 911, grabbed a nearby doctor, and so on. He will be okay. But the emotional devastation for the rest of his team is insane. My dad spent a whole day, from 6am until 10pm, talking to the police and the medics and the hospital and putting out a statement to the company and trying to manage his own job as well as his boss' job. He'll spend all weekend doing a complete store inventory of a MAJOR size pharmacy (we're talking thousands of prescriptions a day) because the guy has stolen narcotics, who knows what else is gone. Plus the shock of the whole thing. My mom said he called her on his way home that night and just cried. Which breaks my heart for him. Now he's got his career all in an uproar and no one to care for his store with his boss gone, and my mom's surgery on Monday, and he's in so much shock he won't eat or sleep. I am worried sick about him too.

So at this point I am thinking the best possible solution sounds like selling my kids to the circus, taking the money and going to California to take care of my parents for a while, letting Pete figure himself out, and when I get back getting a complete physical overhaul of some sort. I need to check myself into the hospital and not come out until I have a lot of things fixed, it's like I hit 60K miles or something. I have to force my body to stay functional and in one piece for at least a few more weeks until I'm sure everyone around me is OK, then I think it is going to just be collapse time!