You guys. I went to the health food store yesterday and it was so overwhelming. I mean, I eat fairly healthy most of the time (although I tend to eat way too much bread for someone doing a low-carb diet). Since starting Nicole’s Sugar Detox, I’ve realized that bread is a comfort food for me and a LOT of the time I just need a glass of water while I try to find something healthier.
(Please ignore the strange Italian man’s head. I inherited him from my Grandma who passed away last month and I’m not really sure where to put him…)
Every year I go through these bouts. These periods where my mind can’t stop thinking negatively. I want to curl in a ball on my couch and never leave the house. I don’t eat all day or I eat everything I can grab. I feel like crying but my eyes are selfish and hold the tears to themselves.
I wear pyjamas from the moment I walk in the door and find excuses not to answer my phone. I watch TV but don’t really see anything. I can’t sleep so I try reading, I try sleeping pills, I try a bath. I try tea, I try writing, I try laying in bed thinking of nothing and everything. I try imagining somewhere hot, and listening to waves on a beach.
I am awake but my mind is confused. How did I end up here? Like this? Lonely, sad, unable to express myself and not understanding what it is that has brought me down so low. Some nights I might go have a drink at my very own Cheers with friends but this is a temporary distraction.
I wander around the museum for hours, wishing I could disappear into the paintings, into the sculptures and be a part of history instead of making my own. I wander around the library even longer – until the librarian announces the imminent closing – picking up books and flipping through the pages.
I read comedic memoirs which remind me all too well how mine would suffer in comparison. I read serious books about war and crimes against humanity. They say misery loves company. I read books about love, about pain, about reality. Sometimes I read a book so densely and intricately worded I have to reread paragraphs three times just to understand what is happening. These are my favorite of all, they take up the most time.
Once the snow melts, once the grass returns, once the sun again has the starring role and not just a cameo, I’ll be okay. But for now, for now I’ll sit waiting.
Tonight, I had an interesting night at work. There’s these guys who are from England staying in the hotel that is adjacent to our restaurant. They’ve been coming in for the last few weeks for a few beers after they’re done work. They are all from the British Air Force and there are about 25 of them.
Tonight one of them asked me to go for a drink with him on Thursday. I’m going to go even though it seems a bit pointless since they’ll be leaving soon and heading back to England, but either way, it’ll be fun I’m sure.
To update my dating situations right now; I saw Bro again over Christmas and it was really nice. He brought me a Christmas CD which was sweet, we watched a movie and had some drinks. It was a lot of fun and I really feel comfortable around him. He’s gone up North again until February though. I haven’t spoken to ADD since Christmas because frankly he’s far too ADD for me. I’m hyper as it is, I don’t need someone three times as energetic as myself around!
As for the Russian, that’s another story entirely (which has to do with the piano bar and the sketchiness there) but I’ll save that for another day.
On my way home from work I started coughing in my cab. As he dropped me off the cab driver was telling me that if I have some Brandy with hot water, I’ll sleep through the night. I laughed and said that I didn’t have any Brandy at my house to which he replied:
“You want Brandy? I go get Brandy! I bring to you right now the Brandy!”
Erm, no thanks but definitely E for effort, and a bigger tip…
For example last night I dreamt that I missed work (at my part time job), ran into my boss and her mountain bike and proceeded to explain to her that my key wasn’t working so I couldn’t go to work. We then went on a bike ride out to Banff where she proceeded to cry about some guy and we ate carrot muffins with raisins.
I used to have a reoccurring dream that I was in a red convertible (with different people in each dream) driving through the mountains. Then the car would fall – either off a cliff, off a bridge or in a weird turn of unfortunate events, off the end of a rollercoaster.
I’ve dreamt that I was a camp counsellor and the kids were trying to light shit on fire all the time. To get them to stop we had to throw ribbons around and braid each others hair. Wait, that was actually a scene in PollyAnna.
I’ve dreamt about pigs that danced (Gene Kelly style) in the rain dressed as police officers. Under their overcoats (since that’s obviously what dancing pigs wear) they all had knock-off watches they were trying to sell.
The weirdest thing that happens to me by far while I’m sleeping (other then Pistols watching through my window – I’m on to you buddy) is sleep-paralysis. I “wake up” but my body is still asleep. Basically, what happens is that you are totally completely paralyzed but your brain is awake.
Sometimes you even get fun hallucinations, like seeing a man standing at the end of your bed. Of course, you can’t turn on the light because you’re absolutely paralyzed and your brain doesn’t send signals to your body.
Now, it sounds terrifying and mostly it is, but the fun part about it is that a lot of people who get it think they’ve been abducted by aliens, had an out-of-body experience or seen a ghost. So any time I want to make up wild crazy stories about green toothed martians whisking me away to play bridge and drink swamp water, I have the perfect alibi!
No wonder my dreams are so messed up.
Alice: I need to renew my gym membership. Like, yesterday.
Frenchie: I need to renew my will power. Can I pay for that? I would… a lot
Alice: I think they accept your soul as payment
I meet with my new trainer this week. He is Scottish and sounds very intimidating on the phone. The first trainer I had was from Newfoundland and laughed at pretty much everything I did. And not in the “gee you sure are funny!” way. No, more of a “haven’t you EVER stood on one leg on a teetering Bosu Balance Trainer while throwing a ten pound medicine ball rythmically against the floor and simultaneously doing leg presses with ankle weights on? No? Ha ha – wow you newb!” sort of laughing at me way.
I’m always nervous meeting a trainer. I actually asked for a girl trainer the first time but was paired up with the Newfie. I’m sort of glad I had a guy because although I wasn’t attracted to him, I wanted to work harder to impress him. Or something like that. With a girl I’d just try to gossip with her to distract her from the fact that I wasn’t really working out. At all. Ever.
The thing with the trainer though is that if they’re too good looking you’re embarrased to work hard. Sweat pouring down your face, arms quivering with the strain of that ten pound weight (kidding – I lift at least 12.5), real or imaginary flab jiggling everywhere as you jog in place. I need to not be thinking about what my trainer would look like naked and instead be concentrating on how many more times I can lunge before I collapse on the floor like a puddle of out-of-shape Jell-O.
Another thing? All the trainers seem to have photographic memories. “Alice! We haven’t seen you in three weeks, two days and six hours! Have you been away? No? Well, you can sure tell” *wink* Do they take that as a class in preparation to become a trainer? Memorize all members’ schedules. When you see a member, mark it in the little book. Always check this book the next time they are in to ensure you can embarass them with the knowledge that it’s been 24 days since they were last in.
Also, what’s with the hip thrust maneuver? In case you are unfamiliar, it’s where you lay on your back, put your feet on a slightly raised area – like a step, bend your knees and rhythmically raise your hips up and down. Yes, just like when you’re having sex – well, if you were having relatively boring sex. Somehow when I do them it always seems to be perfectly timed to the worst song. I just start with the hip thrust – and up, and down – when inevitably “This is Why I’m Hot” starts playing. Way to call attention to yourself and look like a huge narcissistic asshole at the same time.
My heart races. No, not right at this moment but at times. Not like wow that guy is hot heart-racing or I can’t believe I did that many lunges racing but more like a really fast beating that occurs randomly and at the weirdest times. Not that sitting in a parking lot waiting for my friend to buy her stupid eyelash glue (when I have perfectly good stuff at my house a BLOCK away) isn’t a heart-race inducing moment or anything. Hypothetically speaking of course.
Anyway, this has happened for a long time; ever since I was about 12. I went to my (white, male, elderly) doctor about it on several occasions. The first prognosis was that I was expending my energy too much. Dude I’m 12, I’m going to run around and scream like a banshee or whatever it is that 12 year olds do.
I saw him about it again when I was 16. He had me take off my shirt and do jumping jacks in his office to see if it was brought on by exercise. Ya, because jumping up and down in a BRA for two minutes is going to prove anything. The remedy to my heart problem this time? Swallow ice. (I know, right? Can I please see your credentials. On second thought I don’t even want to know.)
Meanwhile my younger sister had a throat infection and he made her take her pants off. Presumably to “feel her glands”. Now I’m no doctor but I’m pretty sure that when you have a throat infection you feel the glands in your throat! Call me old-fashioned.
When my sister and I mentioned this dispairingly to our father, he went to my mother (a nurse)and said: “I really don’t think this guy should be practicing medicine. At least not on my children”. To which my mother replied “I was IN the room with them”. Okay, that’s true but still; he was creepy.
Thankfully Dr. Boobie-Feeler retired, and my doctor is now female. Oh and it turns out that I have mild asthma. Something my old doctor managed to miss despite the fact that I live in a city known for being prone to asthmatics, despite the fact that I complained of my lungs hurting, despite the fact that my heart races (it’s just working extra hard to get blood to the lungs – thanks for that buddy) and despite the fact that my older sister has asthma. Where exactly did this guy go to school? Remind me to never go there.
Now where the hell did I put my bloody cigarettes?
Not that kind of dream, as much as I want to change the world I’m not quite at that highly intellectual level of thinking where I actually have a plan to do so, but I digress.
No, the dream I had was one in which I had a child. Not just had a child but was pregnant with said child, gave birth and then had a baby. Who then grew into a small walking non-talking entity. She was super cute but seriously WTF?!
I read somewhere that if you dream you’re pregnant your body is trying to tell you something (like, um, that you’re PREGNANT). Now I’m normally fairly good with my birth control; Nuvaring – love it! Seriously ladies this is the birth control of the future. I’ve tried the Pill (ugh, who can remember that shit? I can’t remember to take my diet pills with every meal for a week to drop 5 pounds for houseboating – how the hell can I remember a pill every. Single. Day. No thanks). I’ve tried the Depo shot and if I had a horrible enemy girl that I hated I might inject her with it in her sleep if she was extra super bitchy or something but other then that I wouldn’t give that thing to anyone. I gained 35 pounds in a month (thank gawd I’ve lost THAT), I had super PMS (all the time) and mood swings like you wouldn’t believe. Um, ya no wonder it’s 98 percent accurate. Who the hell wants to sleep with a fat bitchy girl? So I would say Nuvaring is the way to go.
ANYWAY, this month I was LESS then careful. As in I didn’t put it in. At. All. Whoops. Anyway O/N and I had a drunken night (broken shower? Check. Broken bed? Check. Birth control? uhh…not so much) but I wasn’t really worried about it because I think I may be infertile anyway. Until I had a DREAM about being fucking pregnant.
Anyway I woke up in a bit of a panic and telling myself that I was definitely pregnant because I feel fat and bloaty, I’ve been eating like crap all weekend and had cravings for weird things, oh gawd and when was my period due…??
Oh. Right. I guess that would explain all the bad food and fatness. Lets just say I’ve never been so happy to be sportin and if you read Mean Girls Guide to Glory you will get that reference. http://thegloriouslifeof.blogspot.com/2008/02/what-we-mean-girls-are-really-saying.html
I guess that’s what my body was telling me with the pregnancy dream.
My apologies to the boys who read this. Some things you just have to get off your chest.
Tuesday afternoon I was having some issues. A stomach thing and it involves blood but I won’t get into that. Anyway, I made my way to the Doctor after Googling my symptoms (I suggest NEVER doing this – all it managed to do was cause me to immediately think “I’m Dying, OMG I’m Dying”).
Of course, as Murphy’s Law dictates, anytime you have an embarrassing medical problem, there will be:
- The hottest Doctor ever
- A resident Doctor who is sitting in with your Doctor, learning and therefore has MORE embarrassing questions then the regular Doctor AND/OR
- You bursting into tears
Luckily my Doctor is female, so I avoided the first problem. I did however have a resident Doctor sitting in and I DID burst into tears (thanks again Google-Medicine). SinceI had stomach problems a few months ago and was tested for a few things already with no results, now they are looking at more serious possibilities.
As soon as the Doctor said the words “tumor” and “most likely benign” I just couldn’t help it. I bawled. I’m sure it’s nothing, she assured me it’s probably nothing but it’s still scary as hell.
I moped around at home Wednesday and Thursday. I know I’m being a drama queen and a hypochondriac but the fact that I had 5 vials of blood taken to check my hemoglobin and other wonderful things yesterday and that until I can get in to see the people who check for tumors I have to visit my Doctor on the regular, I’m not gonna lie – it fucking scares the shit out of me.
This calls for copious amounts of red wine…