Introducting Alice B. Toklas

Behold her pocky nature:

The left one is Gertie (short for Gertrude Stein).

Seemed only fitting to name them both, even though I only have a picture of the right one.

Results of visit with crotchacologist:

• I've gained seven pounds since 2003 (truthfully that's a healthy bowel movement away from maintaining my weight)

• Thanks to me and my big mouth, admitting the four month lapse between cycles, I had the above ultrasound done; Uterine lining perfect save for one fibroid too small to measure.
  
• Nothing else noteworthy to report.

I Darest Thou...

Yay Capitalism

Nestle to buy Jenny Craig for $600 million
Swiss company seeks to capitalize on weight-loss trend

GENEVA, Switzerland - In a move that recognizes the modern world’s twin obsessions — indulgence and guilt — chocolate maker Nestle said Monday it would purchase weight loss product maker Jenny Craig Inc. for $600 million.

[...]

This is no different than say "Big Tobacco" hooking folks on cancer-sticks when they're young, and then hooking them when they're older and emphysemic on "the patch."

Corporate America will get their money out of you one way or another...

Day One: Low Glycemic Diet Gels

I saw The Low Glycemic Diet gel capsules today at the pharmacy, and figured I'd give them a whirl. They contain, among other things: Bitter melon, cinnamon, fennugreek, gymnema, Indian kino tree powder, Neem powder, and syzgium cumini.

I bolded the things I already knew were good for insulin response. Though the bitter melon I cannot take if I am pregnant, I am not pregnant currently, and I doubt that it is high enough of a dose to be a concern at this point in attempting to get pregnant, because let's face it, I'm not fucking at the rate of an olympic porn star. If it happens, it happens.

So I figure these gel caps (1 cap twice a day between meals), in conjunction with my Alpha-Betic vitamins, alpha lipoic acid, and my Omega-3 fish oil caps, I've got my bases covered.

Next visit with the specialist: July 6th.

Note to self:
Onset: June 3
Offset: June 9

How Do I Look? How Do I Feel??

Crime Scene Monday: Flow-Gasm

Ever have a 'gasm so intense it brings on your flow?

Four months of nothing but bloat and irritability, and nothing to show for it.

Now-show-flow.

Last night I, quite literally, felt a piercing explosion of sorts in the area of my right ovary.

VOILA! Self-cleaning womb!

Most Days, I Feel & Fear Others View Me In an Exaggerated Light

My reality (on the right!):

What other folks would prefer I view myself as:

Ya Never Know What to Expect

This is what I love about the city, within which I work. Unpredictability. IN YOUR FACE kinda unpredictability.

I no sooner finished chatting with Jabippy-Lou, when I returned to the elevator queue and waited for the next lift up, when I was hit with a rather gamey, sour stench... and lo-and-behold! Next to the garbage can was chunkage. DELICIOUS!!! CLASSY!!

I fine visual for me to have as I trotted off to my Reiki healing circle. Seing chunky, sour, sick, as I'm off to a class to rid my body and soul and psyche of its own variety of SICK.

It's all good though. I'm sure the pidgeons will be eating quite well as a result of this. All the better for them to squirt their Rorschach-like shit all over my car. All the better for the owner of the local car wash.
It's all good.

It's been over a month since I last attended a Reiki healing circle, as I was on vacation when the last one was held. One of the Reiki masters was taken aback by whatever improvement there has been with me, my body, and my energy. She quickly asked me what I had been doing differently. And I basically said nothing crazy, I just changed my soap and I've been on L*xapro for about five weeks. She said she noticed a big change with me, as if I dropped a lot of weight, my belly has shrunk, somewhat, and overall I'm lacking in that "train-wreck-je-ne-sais-quois"... that untouchable, yet palpable sense that I was on the verge of falling apart.

There was a decided theme in our circle. We all were there with neck, shoulder, and upper back complaints. I usually an reluctant to say what I am attending any healing circle for, as I prefer that the practitioner use intuition (this appeals to the skeptic in me, too, if I see that they focus their energies and touch on the area without me saying so). I feel a little better physically. Not much. But emotionally... noticably better.

Apparently the left side of the body is the feminine, and the chakra of the throat and neck pertain to our ability or inability to communicate. Seems we all had problems with our mothers last night. Fancy that!

Last night's experience reminded me that I promised myself a one-on-one session with the Master, and also a swedish massage elsewhere.

But I was aware last night, as the Reiki Master was hugging me, that her hug was the first hug in a long time, that just manifested itself. I didn't initiate the hug. I didn't demand or ask for the hug. She just gave it. And even though I know I am loved by my husband (who doesn't tell me nearly enough), it was well worth the class fee, to have a virtual stranger extend love to me. Perhaps it might be enough for me to love myself enough to forgive myself for past misdeeds...

Well? Does It?

I Am...

Thanks to my friend Misty for sending this to me. Perhaps those few folks who stop by here for PCOS related info, diet struggles or other "Life as a Woman Struggling to Reconcile Herself With Her Body, Her Health" shit, can find this link enlightening. I sat, choked at how succinctly she summed up this experience, being an extraordinary human trapped in an unconventional body... struggling to be heard, appreciated, and loved in this life.

Blessings to all who read this:

I am...

The Nuts and Bolts...

I posted about my visit to the endocrinologist on 3/21 at my other blog, and totally forgot to post here. So go check out the other post and I'll sit patiently here for ya.

Didja read it? Good.

Not much to report.

I lost three pounds (perhaps more, as Aunt Flow has yet to show her crimson, crampy head yet; and I also had eaten breakfast and hadn't shit it out yet).

The doc is upping my metformin from 500 mg thrice a day, to two 500 mg tablets twice a day, slowly inching me from 1500 mg to 2000 mg a day. This might even help my ravenous appetite--which is symptomatic of my over-production of insulin.

My triglycerides and uric acid were a little high. Gotta boost my vitamins etc. Drink more water? Dunno... no suggestions made other than flax seed oil caps, and keep taking the fish oil caps.

Fertility aside, a very big concern for me is the notion of not turning into my mother. And I don't mean that in the every-woman-doesn't-want-to-turn-into-her-mother kinda way either. And by not turning into her, SPECIFICALLY, I mean I do not want to suffer from these:

Morbid obesity
Type II Diabetes*
Lymphedema of the extremities*
Phlebitis*
Cellulitis* (as a result of poor circulation and the lymphedema)
Rheumatoid and oseteo arthritis (I have a 25% chance of the rheumatoid--I
know it's genetic)
Uterine cancer* & fibroids (which went undetected for who knows how
long; it had been 30 years since she last went to a gynocologist)
Bladder control issues
Borderline Personality Disorder

*All related, directly to her weight (5'5", 350-400#).

But the most troubling thing is how all of those elements have compounded themselves within my mom. Obviously she's in a lot of discomfort all the time. The more weight she gains, the more discomfort for the other aspects. The more weight she gains, the more pain, the more pain, the less she wants to move and do things, the less she wants to move and do things, the more weight she gains. It's an endless cycle. Actually there IS an end. Either she can force herself to do something unpleasant (walk more, get on her exercise bike, something); or die. Those are the only two options.

But it's a slow death. But hey, you can't neglect yourself for forty years, and then wonder why your body is betraying you!

She's 61, and if you saw her, you'd think she's 10-15 years older. She walks hunched over on two canes. Eventually my sister is going to get her a wheely-walker thing so at least she won't be all hunched over anymore. But mom won't be able to use that at her work in the kitchen. She's in denial about how her employer views her. I am sure her employer (she works for a county run facility) knows how crippled up she is. They are THAT desperate for a "pulse," if not a qualified worker.

I guess it takes a tremendous amount of grit and chutzpah, knowing how much pain she's in, to truss her legs up in pressure stockings, "absorbables," etc, popping Ralofen and Aleve (which I believe you shouldn't do) just to get to the point where she can function and go to work. It's a shame she doesn't take her Lexapro, it might take the edge off and perhaps make her more agreeable in general, if not agreeable towards getting more active, even on small levels. Working 10-12 hour days on two uncooperative, bloated, painful legs; at least the bloated and painful could have been avoided years ago.

Now? The damage is done. For mom, that is.


The best thing that came out of the visit, besides having my specialist's ear for an hour (which is a total treat), was him saying how I'm not turning into my mother, medically, and how hopefully we can fight the good fight, and see if we can prevent me from going down the Type II Diabetes road, by making my body sensitized to the insulin it's determined to over-produce.

I see him again in July.

Some folks lives, if they cannot serve as a positive example, they can serve the purpose of posing as a warning to others.

Looking Ahead

3/21

Less than a month until I go back to the specialist.

Less than a month to get my ass in gear.

Less than a month to get totally despondent.

Aunt Flo is here. One more reminder of what a big fat fucking failure I am.

The Last Book I'm Going to Buy Re: IR & Diets

The Insulin Resistance Diet

So I Went For A Reiki Healing Circle Tonight...

I felt all trembly with the laying of hands. Both Reiki masters were intrigued and drawn to me, and what I view as my sack of assorted blockages and issues.

Contemplating going in for a private session. Perhaps.

Definitely going in for another healing circle in March.

The conclusion is, that a lot of my health issues (e.g. my back, my neck, my cystic ovaries, my insulin problems, depression) are all the result of blockages.

The thing that scares me is that both masters saw my "inner seven year old," and that unsettled me.

I feel a strangeness in my ovary-area. My adrenal area feels tense.

Yet somehow, I felt understood.

Ecclesiastes 3

Still fat.
Still not pregnant.
Still not adhering to Atkins.
Still plucking my fu manchu.
Still "functionally" depressed.
Thanks to the folly called Xenical (a few months back), my psoraisis has yet to go into remission. I now have a small patch in my eyebrow, thus breaking our agreement, that it can ravage my scalp, disguised by my hair, provided it does not encroach on my face. Fuck you, Orlistat!

Dinner

8 oz boneless beef rib, marinated and grilled on the GF
4 oz of marinated mushrooms grilled
indeterminate amount of brussels sprouts simmered and buttered:)

Don't give a shit what my 'count' is today.

Mental Health Day Yesterday

Mental health day. Dropped off the husband and went for breakfast, clad only in a pair of khakis, a LL Bean sweatshirt, and my clogs. No bra. No make up. No kidding.

Breaky:

Lobster & crabmeat cake eggs benedict. Coffee. Water. And a sense of "fuck you smug-ness" that I did what I wanted. Read the paper. Cover to cover. Then it was time to pick my wedgie, pay, and get the fluck out of Dodge.

Stayed home and tried to be productive.

Napped.

Ate potato chips.

I'm going to low-carb hell, and Dr. Atkins himself is Satan's taint-waxer and ballsack sweat dauber.


Napped some more.


Dinner:

A burger made of ground lamb, garlic, red onion, fresh oregano and mint and some crumbled lamb's milk blue cheese. Side dish: A fistful of herbed olives.

Dinner

Salmon steaks with cajun seasonings
Broccoli rabe with garlic
Escargots (5)

Endnote: The escargots were actually LAND snails, not sea snails as I had thought. In lieu of the briney topnote I thought they'd have, they had an odd taste, like what garden soil must taste like on a rainy day, braced with butter, garlic and herbs.

So for those keeping track, SNAILS are on my short list of things I do not prefer to eat:

Lima beans
Kerala
Liver, kidneys, sweetbreads, or tripe
Snails

Day Eight Of The New Year

Rolled out of bed, brushed the teeth, bird-bathed and headed to my yoga instructor's home to give her a crash course on how to update her website I set up for her; and in return, she would give me a session devoted to stress and depression management and restorative back asanas. I took my time, answering all her questions.

I know I'll be back over there to assist. Her time is better spent doing the things she loves, rather than the administrative upkeep of her site. I'd be more than happy to be the administrator for her. She just has to say the word. It's no bother. To say she's functionally illiterate when it comes to file management and internet navigation is an understatement. Hey, we all have to start somewhere.

She gave me a good solid hour of one on one instruction and discussion. I long to have the eye bolts and harness she has in her studio, for a full inversion and traction at home. The restorative poses I benefitted from immediately. Very liberating and actually helped undo a little of the damage inflicted from yesterday's assault at the nail salon. Assault? Yep. It's the only way I can describe, succinctly, the "massage" I was on the receiving end of yesterday. It did more harm than good. I'll still need a visit to the chiro, but perhaps I won't be in as dire of straits when I finally get to see him.

With my instructor, I feel my most vulnerable, as I put it all out there; everything which is affecting me, eating at me, stressing me out, and contributing to my depression which is exacerbated by my hyperinsulinemia related to my PCOS. Like an onion, each of the unsavory layers was peeled back, to be discussed and analyzed.

I enjoyed the visit more than I thought I would, and that's saying a lot because I enjoy my time with my instructor, but I was hesitant as I got ready for the visit. Hesitant to go thru the asanas/postures. Not really sure what was holding me back. I'm glad I relented. Perhaps I did it just as much for her as much as for myself. Who knows. I just wish I could get past the obstacles I am putting up for myself, blocking my own joy.

As I departed, she suggested I pick up some books. Perhaps I'll Amazon the rest. We each gave each other homework; me, asanas to do at home to help with decompressing my stress and decompressing my back; her, noodling around with her website and try to become a little fearless about how things work.

I went for breakfast, a big garden omlette, bacon, whole wheat toast, coffee, water. I lingered over the Sunday paper; then it was off to Barnes and Noble to see if they had a particular book by Pema Chodron. Alas the book I was intent on getting was not there, and I got one of the books which were available as a substitute. In addition, I got an audio book, actually a box set which contains Lois P. Frankel's "Nice Girls Don't Get The Corner Office" and "Nice Girls Don't Get Rich."Hey, I am sure I am guilty of several of the 101 mistakes women make, and if I can correct even one and benefit from it, it was money well spent. The remaining book I got was my second book by Paramhansa Yogananda, "Why God Permits Evil and How to Rise Above It." The book selections bespeak practical and self-help.

I need to somehow or another carve out some quiet time for myself. While I was in a few of the poses, I felt almost in a state of suspended animation. Surreal and comforting at the same time.At the very least, I felt I was in good and compassionate company; not "alone," and "acknowledged."

Day Four of the New Year

I'm back on Atkins. Or so my husband thinks. I've been "okay-to-eh" as far as observing it, keeping myself within 20 gm of carb daily. Today, I shot it to shit. I had whole wheat toast with my breakfast, total carb count: 30 gm. I'll be good the rest of the day. Rome wasn't built in a day. I'll keep myself hydrated, have a protein bar for lunch, and perhaps go to sleep when I get home and by-pass dinner. Formula for disaster. This I know.

Such is life for the polycystic fat woman.