Category Archives: Health & Fitness
After the ceremony, we were all standing on the church’s porch. I was hoping to get a few pictures since Finn’s parents weren’t going to make it to the reception (his mom recently had abdominal surgery, and couldn’t handle the steps). After a few minutes, I’d walked back into the church to see where they were. As I was walking in the front door, his mom was walking out the side door. So, I went back outside and around the side of the church. By the time I’d gotten to their vehicle, she was already in the process of putting her seatbelt on.
The drama didn’t appear until the day after. MIL is upset because no one got any pictures of her. By the time she’d questioned me about it, only two sets of pictures had been posted. One set was from my cousin, who was downstairs with me when MIL and FIL walked in. The other set had been sent to me by Finn’s sister, her daughter.
There are no pictures of Finn’s parents from the wedding, and I don’t know what to do. On one hand, I’m feeling supremely guilty because of it, but on the other hand, I had zero control over it. No one had warned our friend who was taking pictures that they were starting, so the camera wasn’t booted up before they sat down. He didn’t even get a picture of Finn walking with the pastor.
I refuse to take full blame for this. I was the bride, Finn was the groom, so we were otherwise busy at that point. I wasn’t even upstairs.
As of now, it appears that MIL is protesting by not commenting/liking/reacting in ANY WAY to any of the posts or pictures posted on Facebook. Even before she noticed there hadn’t been any pictures of her posted.
And, honestly, it makes me feel like absolute shit. She’s commenting/liking/reacting to pictures her other DIL has posted from the wedding (none of us, of course, just selfies of them).
So, now, our wedding day has this dark cloud over it, and after everything else she’s said and done, I feel like an unwanted addition to their family. And it breaks my heart.
In addition to the picture fiasco, I was told that Finn’s grandmother commented on my recent weight loss. Now, it wasn’t a crash diet or anything like that. It wasn’t even intentional at all. I stopped drinking soda. I haven’t had more than a sip since April. Going from drinking 5-6 sodas a day to none, I dropped nearly 1,000 calories a day. It didn’t even occur to me that I should have compensated for the sudden drop. Whoops. However, the only place I lost weight was in my abdomin, so other than losing inches in my waist, my measurements are the same. My hourglass figure is back.
When he told me what had been said, my heart dropped. I was finally, finally starting to feel comfortable in my own skin again. He told her that I’d stopped drinking soda. It was also abundantly clear that it’s in my genes. She was surrounded by my family, and not one of us is “big.” We’re all thin. It’s in our blood. It pisses me off when bigger people think that everyone is supposed to be big. As if thinness is somehow an illness. I’m still well within a healthy BMI for my height, and that should be all that matters. My weight should be between me, my doctor, and my husband.
I still can’t believe I was skinny shamed on my wedding day.
I stopped drinking soda just over three months ago. April 18th, to be specific. It started out because the carbonation was painful for my abscessed tooth. Now, I have quite a few body modifications (14, to be exact. No, I won’t tell you where/what.), and have given birth twice (one natural, unmedicated, one emergency c-section), and the none of that came anywhere close to the abscessed tooth. I seriously thought I was dying. I’m not being overdramatic, i refused to go to sleep the night before I went into the emergency room, because I didn’t think I would wake up.
Anyway, because of the pain, I only drank soda to get those horse pills down, because it wasn’t happening any other way. That eventually led to me just losing the taste for it. I had half a case sitting in the kitchen that we’d bought in March, until I was able to pawn it off on someone earlier this month.
Since April, when I stopped drinking it, I’ve lost 2.5 inches in my waist. Any weight loss has been minimal, since the rest of my measurements remain the same. I simply just lost the bloat caused by consuming so much carbonation.
I caught a glance at my figure in the full length mirror this morning, and was amazed. I have my flat stomach back. I have my ‘V’ back, I have my abs back.
Since I’m already thin and only lost my belly, my boobs, hips, and thighs look bigger. Damnit, I look fucking AMAZING. And I love it.
No more soda for me again. Ever. This body makes it worth it.
I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. I’ve been sick to varying degrees since August. Fucking AUGUST. The most recent bout of “blah”? An abscessed wisdom tooth. Now, I’ve given birth twice (one unmedicated, one emergency cesarean section), and I’ve NEVER experienced pain like I’ve been dealing with for the past month. A trip to Urgent Care last week gave me a prescription for heavy duty antibiotics (the strongest they give outside of a hospital setting), and naprosyn 500 for the pain. Yeah… That doesn’t even come close to even relieving any amount of the pain shooting from the top of my head down to my neck. Since I live right smack dab in the middle of the “Heroin Highway”, they don’t give any stronger pain relievers, for the risk of either creating new addicts or people who are just seeking drugs. People who genuinely need the meds are suffering because of this.
So, yeah… Uncontrollable pain has left me a miserable cranky pants the past few weeks…
I went to my doctor yesterday for my routine annual check-up…
I was talking to the nurse about some of the issues I’ve been having (nausea, headaches, going back and forth between hot and cold flashes, among a few other things). When my doctor came in the room, she followed up asking about other symptoms. Some of the ones she asked about were symptoms I’ve been having, but never put much thought into (cold hands and feet, heart palpitations). Apparently, my answers were enough that she began to suspect an issue with my thyroid.
I go in Monday to have at least five vials of blood drawn. I hope they let Finn come back with me. I hate needles.
They also found leukocytes in my urine, with no other signs of infection. Fun.
J and I went hiking today. Good news is that NONE of my trails were effected by the fire last week. Bad news is that we still didn’t make it to The Heights. The worst news (and what makes me wanna cry) is that I may have to stop my hiking. I’m tearing up as I’m typing this. We didn’t even make it to the overlook before my right knee started hurting. By the time we’d circled around past the overtook, my knee was burning. Like, serious tears of pain burning.
I got home almost seven hours ago, and the pain hasn’t let up at all. If anything, it’s gotten worse. I can’t put any pressure on it at all without wincing in pain. And if I forget for a split second and bare weight on it, you may as well forget it. It feels like my knee is bending backwards.
This really freaking sucks. I love hiking. I love being outside. Even flat trails hurt. Hell, even walking to the store on asphalt hurts. Something’s gotta give. I can’t not hike. I just can’t.
I was scrolling my Facebook newsfeed and saw a post that literally brought tears to my eyes.
A fire within the NHPS (National Historical Park Service). The Historic District.
As I read more and more comments and updates, I got more and more upset. Listening to the broadcast, holy shit! Two acres of the park destroyed by fire. Then, I hear the exact(ish) location. I’m all but sobbing. Not only is the park burning, but my favorite part. Where I used to hike. Fuck, my trails are being destroyed by fire. I’ve written about them before.
The firefighters can’t reach the fire. It’s on the cliffs.
This isn’t good, not good at all.
I used to volunteer with the first company that responded. Those are my brothers and sisters out on those cliffs, trying to reach the fire that’s threatening to destroy history. So. Much. History. A Civil War trench, trees that have been there since before the war.
It got worse…
One of my brothers fell.
Seventy-five feet. I… I just can’t.
Damnit, Armstrong, you’d better be OK.
Yes! I heard your voice. You’re OK. Be a good little firefighter and listen to the EMTs.
The fire’s still going. Firefighters backing off. I hope it stops spreading.
I can’t help but wonder what caused the fire. A careless smoker? Embers from a fire at the nearby campground?
It’s 2am, and the fire is still blazing. Please, please be safe out there ladies and gentlemen. Please.
My right shoulder is throbbing. Has been for almost a week. Been doing this off and on for over a year. It keeps me from being able to crochet as much as I’d like.
My friend J and I took a 7 mile hike along the C&O canal today. OMG, my back and legs are so sore. I can’t even walk without wincing in pain. This shit sucks! And, to make it even more fun, I bruised my hip on the foot board of our bed this morning. I underestimated my hips(again). You’d think I’d realize by now that despite my small frame, I’ve got hips.
Nah, not really. I’ve been laughing most of the day, finding the most random stuff on Pinterest, and posting it on Facebook.
Scott just got home from hunting about an hour ago. He got a button buck. Cute little thing.
I’m not sure WTF has happened, but my depression and anxiety checked itself out a few days ago. I’ve been nothing but smiles yesterday and today. Not sure what happened, but I’ll take it.
I was just invited to go hiking again on Monday. We’re supposed to be heading to the Heights, but we’ll see. We were supposed to take that trail last Monday, but it didn’t happen. I’ll make it to the Heights eventually.
It is NOT OK to bash one body type to uplift another.
I am quite thin (5’5 and 115lbs), at the lower end of what is considered “healthy.” A “healthy” BMI is considered to be between 18.5 and 24.9. I’ve been thin most of my life.
During my bout of insomnia one night, I made the mistake of Googling ‘Skinny Shaming.’
“Wow” is all I can say. Some of the articles, and a good portion of the comments said that Skinny Shaming is a myth.
The images above seem pretty damn anti-skinny, if you ask me.
I have been a victim of negative comments because of my size. From the mild “You’re so tiny!”, to the extreme “Ugly, skinny bitch”. I tend to have health problems if I get above 130lbs
It’s hurtful. It’s emotionally damaging, but it’s not important because of “skinny privilege.” I call bullshit.
Body shaming goes both ways and comparing the two is like comparing apples to oranges. Unless you’ve been on both sides, you don’t know how the other side feels.
Nobody is perfect.
No body is perfect.
Everyone, no matter their size, has something they’re self conscious about.
I have stretch marks that run down my calves from gaining 55lbs in one season. I barely fill a 34A bra. I don’t smile for pictures because I hate my teeth. So, no, being “skinny” doesn’t stop you from having insecurities. Nor does it stop the negative comments.
No Monday Bitchfest today.
It’s been a pretty good day so far. I got to spend some time with an old friend, hike the trails in the Historic District, have lunch with friends, and spend some quiet moments with Scott before he headed back out to hunt. All in all, a pretty decent Monday. The only thing that would make it better is if he comes home with a buck tonight.
Last night, this morning, today, Scott’s been on my mind nonstop. I count myself blessed that he’s understanding of my mood swings. I know I have to work on them, though. One man can only take so much. I know this. He gives me the freedom I need and the closeness I crave. I want him to be my last love, just like I want to be his. I want to be his “Happily Ever After”.
On the way home this afternoon, my friend and I got into a conversation about the absurdity of my life.
Me ~ “I left a ghost hunter for a taxidermist that tends bar on the side. Is this real life?”
Him ~ “For you, it is.”
Me ~ “Do I attract the unusual or something?”
Him (without missing a beat) ~ “Yes, you do.”
This is my life, crazy as it is. I should write a book.