health

bike to work week

photo by me

Today started the flagstaffbiking.org bike to work week. I decided to take part in it.

I didn’t ride all the way from my house. That’s too far for me and I’m not in good enough shape for that (it’s about 20 miles each way). Instead, I parked my car at my brother’s house in town and biked in from there (about 5 miles each way).

The ride this morning was beautiful. The air was perfect and the weather was spectacular. People on the trail were smiling, ringing their bells, and saying good morning. However, there are a LOT of hills going there. I didn’t realize how hilly my town is until this morning.

I used to ride this route all of the time but, I think, that in my youth, it didn’t seem so bad. Now that I’m old, I think I feel the hills much more.

The ride home was lovely until the last mile – and omigosh that last mile was rough. It was steep. I didn’t realize how steep it was when I was riding out this morning.

The worst thing about it was that some young men yelled out their window that I had a fat butt. Well, thank god they can point out the obvious. Good for them.

Idiots.

I’m going to do every other day and, hopefully, by July, build up to all 5 days.

By the end of summer, I’d like to be able to ride from my house into town. That’s my goal.

divine intervention

photo by me

I think I need a little divine intervention into my life.

I’ve been out of work the last two days with excrutiating back pain. I ended up in the emergency room because I was hurting so badly.

I couldn’t even get online long enough to write – and that tells you that it has been bad.

I woke up one morning hurting like crazy. The doctor says I may have just pulled something or twisted something in my sleep. He massaged me, gave me some pain medication, told me to stretch out, and sent me on my way.

I’m still sore. It has now radiated down to the base of my spine and I hurt.

Wah wah wah.

Big whiner, I know.

I just want to be in bed right now.

okay, so I’m…

photo by me

…not perfect. Can you imagine? And I have more weight on my bones than I should have (but this is something I’m working on).

Last week, I had an ex tell me that I don’t always show myself in the most flattering light. He said that when I share photos of myself with other people online, I should only show those that flatter.

To me, though, that’s being dishonest. I don’t dress up each day and if you know me, that’s what you will find out. In fact, dressing up is a chore to me. You’ll find me in jeans and t-shirts or sweaters much more often than in high heels or hose/tights.

And you know, if a photograph shows me as overweight, well, that’s because I am. And if it’s not something someone likes, then I truly feel that they are missing out.

We place SO much emphasis on this outer shell of ours, that we forget to look inside. Does that person have a good heart? Can that person converse with me on the same level about similar things? Will that person have the same parenting style that I have? Does that person have similar philosophies that I have when it comes to how to live life?

Omigod. I have cellulite. Yeah, it’s unsightly but how often does anyone really see it? I mean, really?

Doesn’t my compassion count more than cellulite?

And you know what makes me laugh even more? Men who say they’ve dated larger women and don’t have a type but the minute they meet a larger woman, they say, “You’re larger than the women I typically date.”

Oh? But you told me that you’ve dated women who have outweighed me by 50 pounds. That’s interesting. Is it the height? Is it the big bones? What makes you think that I’m suddenly bigger than those women who outweighed me?

Grrr.

At least be honest about it. If you dont’ like larger women, say so from the beginning. If you have an issue with not feeling manly next to a larger woman, realize that it is your issue and not her issue and don’t put it back on her.

Those words sting. You have no idea how much they sting.

beacon of truth

photo by me

Sometimes the lawmakers in my state amuse me. Sometimes they just piss me off. Right now, the members of our state representatives are pissing me off.

On Monday, our misongynistic state legislators decided to make it illegal for a woman to sell her eggs. But there are no similar bills to bar a man from selling his sperm.

Oh, no…a man can make money off of his bodily functions but a woman…oh…a woman…she can do evil things with those eggs – IF SHE SELLS THEM. Not if she donates them. Only if she sells them.

According to the local newspaper, the real credit for this goes to Bob Stump, a very conservative representative from the Phoenix suburb of Peoria.

Rep. Bob Stump, R-Peoria, said the disparate treatment is justified. And, he said, it has “nothing to do with gender politics.”

Uh-huh. Tell us another fable, Bob. Tells us how much you love and respect women. How much you believe that they have the intelligence to know how to take care of their bodies and protect themselves.

Because, frankly, if I don’t have a man telling me what to do with my body, I just might hurt myself. I’m so helpless.

And make money off of my body? Oh…the horror!

Grrrr.

This stuff pisses me off.

One more way that my rights over myself are taken away.

And, it seems, some of the female legislators felt the same way.

Rep. Kyrsten Sinema, D-Phoenix, said there is no reason to have one set of laws for men and another for women. “You keep your hands off my eggs and I’ll keep my hands off your sperm,” she said.

Amen, sister.

reaching for…something

photo by me

So I did it. I actually went to TaeKwonDo last night.

I had skipped Tuesday night because I was just too stressed about going into a group of people I didn’t know and looking stupid.

Last night I was on the phone with my brother and he told me to just go. He said that I would be glad I did and feel good about it, too.

He was right. It was a great workout and I felt really positive about the whole experience.

It wasn’t just the physical exertion. The women of the class were quick to welcome me in. They explained how to do things and came over to introduce themselves. They were really cool.

I actually had much more energy after the class and felt like I could run forever after it. (Hah!)

I got home and as I started to unwind, I could feel my mucles getting sore. This morning, when I woke up, ouchie! Not bad sore. Not so bad that I can’t move. Just sore enough to remind me of what I did last night.

It was such a good feeling. I can’t begin to tell you how great I felt after and into today.

I can go back this evening to make up for missing on Tuesday. I think I’ll do that just to help loosen my muscles up and feel better.

I’m looking forward to it.

Ummm…did I just say that? I’m looking forward to physical exertion?

Ack!

sensitivity

photo by me

I think I was born sensitive. My feelings get hurt easily. I cry over things that most people wouldn’t even care about.

I remember once when I was a teenager, the family was sitting around watching one of those made-for-television movies. It was about teen suicide. It upset me so much that I just sat there, hiccuping through the tears that streamed down my face. My dad told me to stop. He said I was “too damn sensitive” and this was a stupid thing to cry about. I think it hurt my sensibilities that kids thought life was so bad that they didn’t want to live. That bothered me.

I think nearly every man that I’ve ever had in my life has told me that I’m too sensitive.

And I wonder. What does that mean, exactly? Does it mean that I’m too sensitive for them? Does it mean that I’m more sensitive than most of humanity?

I can’t watch those animal cop shows. I cry through them. I’m so upset that people treat their pets so badly. It just tears me up. And then I have to cuddle with Dakota (as if that’s a chore!) because I need him to know that he will never be treated like that.

This weekend, Willow and I had some issues on a trip to Phoenix. My feelings definitely got hurt and I ended up crying over it. Yesterday I could barely function because I was so upset. I was upset because the consequences of her treatment are that she has to miss out on a month’s worth of playdates with me. That doesn’t just hurt her. It hurts me, too. I love that girl. But she also needs to know that she has to treat me well in order to spend time with me.

I’m not just emotionally sensitive. My skin is sensitive. I have such a horrible outbreak of eczema right now because of the dry weather. I itch all of the time and have rashes. My doctor had to give me some medicated lotion that I could use all over my body.

I have a sensitive stomach. It seems like the oddest things will upset my stomach.

I have a sensitive brain. Okay…weird, I know, but I didn’t know how else to label it. I get headaches at the drop of a hat.

I have sensitive eyes. I have trouble driving when it’s dark because the headlights of other cars hurt my eyes so much that I can’t see. I see spots instead. I have to tilt every mirror in my car to avoid any lights. In addition, my bedroom has cloths draped over any ambient lights that may be in my room because the lights drive me crazy.

I have sensitive hearing. I think I can hear every noise on the planet and it drives me nuts. I can hear the very subtle whirring of my Tivo at night and it irritates the heck out of me.

My nose is sensitive. The littlest whiff of things can make me crazy. Cigarettes are the worst. I can’t breath if I smell them. But even odd foods will bother me and then my stomach will get upset.

Maybe I need to be put into a bubble and sheltered from the evil world.

I could be like John Travolta in that late 70s/early 80s show (I can’t remember exactly when) show, “The Boy in the Bubble.”

I could be the Bubble Girl.

happy holidays!

photo by me

The other day, I was driving to work and I saw bright lights coming from one of the streets across from campus. I drove through the neighborhood to see what could be lighting up the streets so brightly on a cold December morning.

I saw this home. It made me smile. All of these bright lights greeting the early morning dawn.

–

I got my grades. I got straight A’s. So, thanks for all of your thoughts. I appreciate it.

I think that I just worry myself about it all instead of believing that I will do well in school.

–

And, I’m in bed again, this time with some stomach flu that is plowing its way through the offices at work.

Blech.

milestones

photo by me

Yesterday was my 39th birthday.

I suddenly felt old. There haven’t been many birthdays that have made me feel that way but this one did.

My brother said it was because I’ve been sick (and still am recovering) and because I’m so tired. It’s been a long, difficult semester and I’m worn out.

I don’t know if that’s it.

Part of it was that I was taking stock of my life.

I’m not married.
I don’t have any kids.
I don’t have many friends.
Besides my family, I can count on one hand the friends who remembered my birthday (and all of you read my blog – so thank you for remembering – two friends I have never met and 2 friends I have).

–

My brother told a parable to his daughter yesterday. He told her the story of the tortoise and hare – with a twist. He was the tortoise and I was the hare and it had to do with our education.

He has told me to slow down. He says I don’t need to go full-time in graduate school. He says that working full-time and going to school full-time is making me sick. I don’t have time for fun. I don’t have time to relax. I am working, working, working – getting sick – working, working, working – getting sick. There is nothing else.

I worry about slowing down. I want to get my degrees. I want to reach my goals.

But I don’t want to die doing it.

–

I’m feeling old.

pink

photo by me

This entry is made in honor of all of the people who have been surviving breast cancer continuing to fight this disease. They are an inspiration. While October may be Breast Cancer Awareness Month, we all need to remember to do proper and complete exams all year long. The American Cancer Society recommends the following steps to do a Breast Self-Examination (BSE).

Do BSE each month, 7-10 days after your period begins. After menopause, do BSE on the first day of the month.

While standing in the shower and with fingers flat (do not use the tips of your fingers) move your hand gently over every part of each breast. Check for lump, knot or thickening. Use right hand for left breast and left hand for right breast.

Standing before a mirror, with your hands at your sides, visually check for lump or depressions (hollows). Then, placing palms on hips, press down firmly, flex your chest muscles and check again. Don’t worry if your breasts don’t match — chances are they will be a little different.

Now, raise your arms overhead. Look for changes in the contour of each breast as well as swelling and dimpling of the skin and changes in the nipple.

To examine your right breast while lying down, place a pillow or folded towel under your right shoulder and lay your right hand on your forehead, elbow bent and slightly forward. This distributes breast tissue more evenly on your chest. Move your hand down and then up all around the area shown. Repeat on other side.

With fingers flat, use left hand to press an imaginary clock face on your right breast. Check for lumps or depressions. A ridge of firm tissue in the lower curve is normal. Move in an inch toward nipple and make the same circling motion again and again until you reach the center. Repeat with right hand, left breast. Be sure to press firmly.

Gently sqeeze the nipple of each breast. Check for any discharge, clear or bloody. Report any lumps, thickenings, or discharges you discover during the examination to your doctor immediately.

For more information on Breast Cancer and Awareness, please visit the following links:

Breast Cancer Resource Center

Breast Cancer Net

American Cancer Society

Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center

Self Exam Information

dust bowl

photo by me

Yesterday, on my way home from work (yes, I went home sick), I was listening to the Diane Rehm show on NPR. Diane was interviewing the author, Timothy Egan, who has written The Worst Hard Time: The Untold Story of Those Who Survived the Great American Dust Bowl. Egan shares the stories of the desolation and depression of the people who lived in the Great Plains during the 1930s.

I was touched by how people were brought together to battle this natural disaster. I was also touched by how they endured one thing after another: the winds, the dust, the grasshoppers and, finally, the thing that really broke them, the Depression. They survived everything until they lost everything to the banks.

A caller spoke of how he watched his mother and the other women put towels in window sills and under doors to stop the dust from coming in. Egan asked if any of us could imagine how that would feel, to have an ever-present film of dust over everything.

I live in a mini dust bowl. The winds blow here often and hard. I live in an area that has relatively few trees because it used to be bean fields. What was left was miles and miles of soil that lifts into the air easily.

Constants:

on my window sills there is always a red-brown dirt. I can vacuum and clean and within hours, it will be back.

Dusting does not work. There is always, even after dusting, a fine film of dust on everything.

I dread going outside on some mornings because the winds are so high that I know I will feel dirt on me for the rest of the day. This is especially bad if I’ve just taken a shower and my hair is still wet. I know I’ll be dirty the moment I walk outside.

Carwashes, washing windows, washing the dog – all efforts in futility. The minute it gets done, they are all dirty again.

There is a reason I have respiratory problems. This dust gets into your lungs and it causes problems.

While I don’t live in the same kind of situation those people had to suffer through, I know how the presence of dust weighs on someone. It’s an irritant at first. Then it slowly becomes something that you sigh at and move on.

There is nothing you can do.