Tag Archives: Health

Google: Pubic Hair

26 Jul

People come to my blog through many doorways. Most commonly by Facebook, Email and Stumbleupon. When people come to my site through those means, I am unsure what they are searching for. I wonder what has brought them here and if they enjoyed what they found. I encourage you to leave a comment or rate my posts, so I can get to know you whilst improving my writing!

But there is another means to reach my site. A more personal path. A route that tells me exactly what you are looking for.

Search Engines.

Do not fear. My technology is not advanced enough to know who you are or where to find you, but, I do know what you come seeking.

Pubic Hair Related Material.

Today, several people or maybe just one person with a lot of pubic hair related needs, came to my blog via search engine by typing in “My husband sheds pubic hair” “Pubes” “pubic hair loss reasons” “Man losing pubes” “genital hair loss”.

This is not the first time a search for pubes has led people to My Life of Cards. A while back I wrote a post pertaining to my husband’s shedding of short, black and kinkies which happen to describe ALL his body hair. One can not be too cautious, they are all pubes when found and must be approached accordingly.

I hope you read THIS post and
1. Felt less alone in your battle against pube shedding
2. Found the solution to your pubic hair dilemma. On a personal note, bathing my husband and brushing him out afterward has downgraded our shedding situation tremendously.

Now for a treat! Here are some of the most searched terms that lead people to My Life of Cards, in no particular order because during the process of “copy and paste” it went all wacky. I responded to what I could.

why do people say balls (because it’s a versatile word and fun to say)

miracles, are they real (Yes, I believe so.)

i hate idaho (Ditto.)

cards about balls (I haven’t made one yet, but come back later… I’ll write one just for you!)

how to get rid of a fat crotch (I Googled this as you did. The only true way to rid yourself is lipo or starvation. Sorry. Feel less alone by reading THIS!)

sexy husbands (Aren’t they nice!?)

i can see your nipple (You’re welcome or I’m sorry.)

dwarf female (Mine is a wizard, what’s yours?)

Where is God? (Good, deep question. Simple answer, God is everywhere.)

female dwarf with bow

holy balls expression (HOLY BALLS!)

jenny mccarthy crotch (No porn here…)

coffee snob (Yes, it’s true.)

tired of being a doormat quotes (I have a card for you, HERE!)

girls period card (Another card, HERE!)

jenny mccarthy crotch shot (Again, no porn.)

American Flag (USA, USA!)

crazy bitch (I don’t know if bitch would be the right word.)

why balls? (I ask myself this all the time.)

dirty housewife (Sometimes.)

Balls Humour (You’ve come to the right blog, my friend.)

condoms (Are uncomfortable but less uncomfortable than AIDS.)

facial hair (Shave it, Wax it, or Embrace it.)

is summer sausage good on an all protein diet? (Yeah and so is Salami, Pepperoni, and Balls… Sorry that was rude. No, it’s not healthy, period.)

neighbor is sexy (Aww thank you!)

i have a fat crotch (Me too, sorry.)

teen guys who kill their girlfriends (Creepy)

fat dimpled butt (Hey! Have you been spying on me???)

girls blood on my undies (Sounds like a job for the dry cleaners, buddy.)

concussion (Suck balls.)

pubes everywhere when i sweep (ME TOO!)

thumbs up (You betchya!)

petting my arm hair (This makes me feel very insecure.)

crack house living room (I had one of those. HERE!)

crotch to crotch exercise (Now this sounds like fun, tell me more in the comments!)

she gets f***** from behind because she is so ugly (That’s just mean…)

doormats behaviour

fatcrotches (Yes yes, I get it.)

bad hair card (Right HERE!)

terry cloth material on fat people (I threw away those shorts, btw.)

fat crotch (Again, check.)

sausage and condom (I see you’ve come across a similar situation.)

scottish eyebrows (I knew a pair once!)

i got a card prison talk (Please elaborate!)

hot white girl gets drunk (responsibly… have we met?)

hibiscus refresher diarrhea (Hmm… Maybe you reacted to the caffeine?)

scottish thick eyebrows

My life sucks (Let’s chat. Email me at mylifeofcards@yahoo.com)

my life of cards lacey (You found me!)

condom filling cartoon

obama you didnt do that (Oh, one of YOU people.)

emotionally unstable post concussion syndrome (Me too. Check out THIS SITE  it’s a wealth of information.)

does intoxication justify infidelity (No, Dumbass. But it does other things HERE!)

tired being doormat (Then strap on your boots and kick down some doors! I believe in you!!!)

That’s 1/3 of the list. People seem to be searching for a lot nowadays and I am glad I can be one to help. Leave a question in the comments and I will respond promptly, you can also email me at mylifeofcards@yahoo.com. No question is too little or too big. I am a fountain of information and advice. I also am full of wit and sarcasm and might not be of much help depending on your question and my mood.

One last thing before I close. What the heck is “Hencet” and why does that word bring people here? It’s a top searched word (sometimes it’s coupled with other random words) and I have yet to figure out what it is or who it is. Search engines bring up a mix bag of weirdballs with those terms. I don’t understand. Will someone please solve this mystery for me!

Happy Thursday Balls!

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The “Senior Citizen” Card

24 Jul

Usage Guidelines: Use for discounts, excusing behaviour, and pension activation.

Expiration: Never. There is no going back.

Congratulations, you’re old! 65 is a special age and so many wonderful things come to you in this stage of life. For 1, this cool card.

My grandparents, Moose and Pops, use this card well. They take full advantage of the discounts wherever offered. And seriously, I am jealous. It’s wicked cheap to eat out, which is a good thing for them because my Gramma Moose could easily burn a house down.

Businesses even hold Senior Citizen Days and the oldies come out in droves to snatch up the good deals! Watch out for the tiny old women on these days, they are more aggressive than one may think.

I have two firsthand examples of this card being used.

A couple of years ago I was grocery shopping at a local store. I believe it was a day when the government issued their checks to the low-income elderly as the younger crowd was severely outnumbered 10-2. This didn’t bother me, I just remember thinking there were a lot of Senior Citizens out…perhaps there was a special sale? I did not know.

I went about doing some quick shopping. I was mostly there for sick food and Kleenex as it was cold season. I grabbed some cold medicine and headed down the aisle for the Kleenex. The nice stuff, 3-ply with aloe, was on special! There was one left on the shelf, I reached for it and then recoiled as my arm was whacked with a cane.

I turn to face the cane wielder and to give him/her a piece of my mind. There stands an elderly woman in her 80’s, no more than 4 feet 5 inches tall.

Her- “So sorry Deary. I was trying to reach for the Kleenex. Would you be so kind?” Her headed nodded strangely at me.

Me- “Oh that’s ok. I have a hard time reaching things too, glad I can help for once.” The old lady was so sweet sounding, I could not be mad at an accident. I grabbed the regular Kleenex that had been next to the one I took.

Her- “Well that won’t do deary. See, when you are as old as me your skin is like paper. And nowadays it seems I am always taken ill or mourning the loss of a friend. I need the one with aloe deary, for my frail skin.” She nods her head at me again.

I understand what she is getting at. She is nodding at my box of Kleenex in my basket. The last one of the good stuff, on sale. I take a few seconds to process this. I am quite sure she meant to whack me with the cane, and I am quite sure she is pulling out her Senior Citizen Card to get what she wants from me…

She begins to hold out her arms towards me, her hands shaking. She is waiting for me to come to my conclusion and gift her with the coveted Kleenex.
I hand her my box of Kleenex and grab the crappy stuff for myself. Well played old lady, well-played.

My second example:

Senior Citizens tend to have amazing gardens. It must be all their years of knowledge coupled with massive amount of free time. It also might have to do with them stealing water. If you live next to an elderly person with an immaculately kept garden, green and lush, in the middle of a summer drought… keep your eyes on him/her.

A couple of weeks ago I spied an elderly gentlemen on our block grabbing the hose of their neighbor, dragging it across their driveway and watering his own flower beds. Perhaps he had permission to do so, but I highly doubt as he was looking up and down the block frequently.

I am sure he had it all planned out if he was to get caught too. I bet it would consist of him referring to how his wife passed away or how weak he’s become since he’s lost all reasons to live except for keeping his garden green or how it was too hard for him to turn the knob on his own hose with his arthritis, or simply that he was confused and lost. It would probably end with the elderly man getting away with it, and somehow the younger couple feeling bad or guilty in some strange way.

These “Senior Citizen” Card toting people are master manipulators. WATCH OUT! For the sake of your water bill and other stuff.

old age at Rotchild BLVD

Here are some Senior Citizens discussing their master manipulator ways as they pretend to be sweet old people, taking a rest on a beautiful day. (Photo credit: shyb)

The “Irrational Fear” Card

9 Jul

Usage Guidelines: Use when confronted with an irrational fear. If you are unable to decipher an irrational fear from a rational fear, share your fear with a friend. Watch their face for tells as you share. If you see smiles, hear laughter, or the friend responds with, “Are you serious?”, those are all good indications that your fear is in fact, irrational. Grab your card, its in the deck waiting for you.

Expiration: When you finally confront your fear and squash it. Whether it be defeated by force, or through over-priced therapy, congrats! You’re a little less crazy.

I played this card last weekend.

T and I got it into our heads to remove two ugly juniper bushes in the front yard. These bushes reminded me of gnome hats. Not that I have anything against gnomes, I just don’t like bushes that resemble their hats.

The bushes were covered in spider webs. Apparently they were homes to an uncountable number of spiders and spider baby sacs. This fact did not discourage me from aiding in the removal process of these bushes.

I am not scared of spiders.

As T sawed off the branches, I gathered them and placed them in the lawn and garden bag. Soon there was just a tall stump.

I suggested we tie a rope around it and pull it out with the car. Apparently, that was “overkill”.

We began shoveling. The ground began to crawl.

What… Spiders? Ants?

Me: “HOLY BALLS THEY’RE EARWIGS!!!! No, no, no. Absolutely not! Retreat! Retreat!”

Earwig

Earwig (Photo credit: Mamboman1)

I ran from the excavation site making high-pitch squeals while slapping my shins and rubbing down any exposed skin. I felt them in my hair too and started batting at my head and shaking out my hair.

T just stood there in the earwig swarm, staring at my curiously.

After a bit more oblivious-to-the-world freaking out on my part….

T: Honey?

Me: Earwigs! (still rubbing my skin and now slightly winded from all the jumping about)

T: They won’t hurt you.

Me: I know.

T: Then what’s the problem?

Me: They have lots of legs, they are super fast, they are brown, they are shiny, THEY HAVE PINCERS!!!!

T: I don’t think they can harm you.

Me: That’s what everyone says. But when I was younger, one urinated on me and bit me! (T is still standing in the swarm and it’s making me grow more and more fearful/severely uncomfortable by the minute. They might be on him now, burrowing, planning their attack. He could unknowingly bring them into our house on his body!)

T: Umm, OK. I’ll manage without you.

Me: I’ll get the car ready.

T: That’s OK babe.

The earwigs continue to swarm but luckily T was not harmed while digging.

T broke out the ax to break a couple of roots free. As he swung down on the roots, earwigs took flight.

Me: “HOLY BALLS THEY CAN FLY!!!!”

The danger and creepiness increased by 40% and I confined myself to the porch until the stump was removed.

*Shudder* They can fly….

The good news is the ugly bushes are gone and I thoroughly researched earwigs whilst writing this card and I am 100% sure this irrational fear can be overcome.

I’m thinking of “exposure therapy”. Ill start with pictures, then videos, then the real deals out in my flower bed…. I’ll keep you all posted.

As far as I know I only have one other irrational fear.

Airport Layovers.

Hong Kong International Airport

I would need at least 4 hours for a layover in Hong Kong. The airport is HUGE! Who knows how much time I would need or what could go wrong!!! (Hong Kong International Airport: Photo credit: work the angles)

Layovers lasting 2 hours or more have 50% less fear factor but are still unnerving and bring me anxiety. Layovers under 1 hour in length are avoided at all costs. I would rather pay $200 more for a longer layover and delay my arrival by several hours, than have a short layover. The fear of layovers dissipates once I board my flight, but kicks in again during the descent to meet my connecting flight. Oh, my stomach is in knots just thinking about a short layover. I get extreme anxiety including sweats, heart palpitations, diarrhea and sometimes vomiting during the “anticipation phase” of airport layovers.

Weirdly enough, I love flying.

Can you see my Irrational Fear Card clearly enough?

Do you have an Irrational Fear? I’d love to read about! Share with me in the comments or email me at mylifeofcards@yahoo.com

My Concussion Still Sucks Metaphorical Balls.

15 Jun

Ever since my concussion (read all about it HERE and HERE) I have felt emotionally unstable. Because of the Post Concussion Syndrome, I have frequent headaches and experience anxiety in social situations (even when I’m with my close friends and family), loud noises or chaotic environments trigger attacks, small things I used to not fret over worry me and make my heart palpitate, and in addition to the anxiety the concussion caused depression as well.

From the usual content of my writing this may come as a shock to you. I keep my posts humourous and upbeat no matter how I might be feeling on that particular day. I find that when I force myself to write, even when I am mentally in a dark hole, it helps turn my day around. I work really hard to search out a happy place and when I find it, I start to write and share what I found with the world.

I enjoy writing. I enjoy laughing. And I especially enjoy other people’s laughter. But this past week has been torture. I don’t know why it’s been worse than usual. My body is even feeling it. My legs are fatiguing and last night I felt pain in them that I hadn’t felt in months, my joints are aching, I even find myself frowning and scowling for no particular reason.  It hard to find pleasure in anything. I can’t seem to look forward to fun things we’ve planned for this weekend, and that just makes me mad.

What really gets me going though? I know all these feelings are irrational. I have no reason to be sad, disappointed, agitated, depressed, angry, or anxious. I feel hyper aware that my mental state does not fit my situation in life and that makes me even more agitated and frustrated.

My life has improved in so many ways over the last few months. My hubby graduated college a few months ago and he has a great job in a very cool field, We have money now (such a relief of stress), I’ve been able to visit home a few times in Seattle, I got to see my brother get married, My son is growing more awesome with each passing day, I’ve lost 3 lbs, I have a couple of friends in Canadaland now, And my application for permanent residency is currently under evaluation and should be approved by the end of the year. Seriously, I should be happy. I should be loving life, enjoying the beautiful summer with my son and husband. But I’m struggling, and that frustrates me.

I’ve been to a few doctors about these issues and each time they say there is nothing they can do for me because the problems are caused by my post concussion syndrome, not a chemical imbalance or an inability to cope with a crisis. They say this could last from a few months, to several years, or the rest of my life. I wish I could take a pill for a while, or get some counseling and be better. But those remedies won’t help me. I feel like there they are telling me there is no hope but time, and I don’t want to accept that.

I want myself back. I don’t want to have to dig myself out of this stupid dark hole anymore, I want to always be in the beautiful light of life. I don’t want “good days and bad days”. I want to be the Lacey I was before the concussion. The rational, emotionally stable, spontaneous, upbeat, positive, excited about life, always looking on the bright side, Lacey. I hate that I have to force a smile on my face, I feel so fake doing it. But the anxiety and depression are the true disingenuous a-holes. They are both LIARS and exist in a false reality.

I know that my anxiety and depression are affecting my son and husband, and that breaks my heart. This past week has been especially hard for everyone I think. I try to make up for all my neurotic behaviour when I have a good day, but I haven’t had one of those in over a week and it’s not for my lack of trying. And it just adds to how horrible I feel when my husband is all sweet, caring, loving, understanding… I feel worse when he is so good about it all. How’s that for crazy?

I don’t know where I was going with this post, or if I had a point I was going to make. Honestly, no clue… I do however know that a lot of people suffer from anxiety and depression. And if you’re reading this and can relate to what I am going through, I hope you feel less alone.

Until these concussion related problems dissipate, I’m going to keep fighting against it. I’ll keep climbing out of the dark hole, I’ll keep trying to smile. I still have my will to fight and it will not defeat me. Anxiety and Depression will have their place for a while it seems, but I refuse to let them define me. I refuse to give up hope for an end to all this inner madness.

And so today I do battle in my head. I hope if you’re feeling DOWN, that you’ll fight for the UP with me! And if you’re already UP, how about you grab the hand of someone who is DOWN, and drag them UP to you. Or throw a couple Xanax or Valium at them. Be friend will ya?

P.S. A friend of mine linked me this video, HAPPY!, and it brought me a genuine smile. It was just what I needed to find true happiness today, and a grip on reality. I looked at my son and remembered his first words and how his laugh used to sound when he was a baby. Thanks C!

P.P.S. When I went to do the tags after finishing this post, one of them was “Lady Gaga”. I thought about why she was suggested. It has to be because of my mention of pills and living in an alternate reality. I tagged her because WordPress would never lead me astray….

Idaho? Oh Balls.

7 Jun

The last time I started a new school I spent a good amount of time crying and begging my mom to let me be home schooled. This time I was out of tears. I had spent over 2 weeks crying. September came and I had resolved to attend school without protest, but also to make no effort whatsoever to make new friends. Which proved to be quite easy since all the girls seemed more interested in mocking my clothing, hair and make-up instead of getting to know me. I’ve never been a “blender” and decided to keep my identity. I wasn’t going to change myself for these vapid girls.

 

Just like every high school there were the obvious groups, except at Meridian High School they all kept to their own clique. There were the jocks, the nerds, the punks, the pot-heads, the emos, the pretty girls, the juvenile delinquents, the choir kids, and the band geeks and the drama freaks. I couldn’t find a place among any of those groups if I wanted to. I’m not athletic, I’m intelligent but not nerdy, I didn’t smoke pot, I didn’t wear black and listen to punk music, I wasn’t bound for prison, I was pretty but would rather pluck out my eyelashes than hang with those pretty girls, I wasn’t in choir, I didn’t play an instrument and I had no desire to make friends with the up-beat drama freaks. No, I was determined to mope about at home, stay depressed and just get through the school year. And I was sure about 1 thing. I would not make any friends, because in a year or 2 I would have to say goodbye. Because that’s how my life went. I’d settle in, make great friends, form a life I loved, and then I would be uprooted and have to start over. Well if I never started, I’d never have to start over. In my head, that made sense. (Yes, I would have emotionally fit in with the emo kids.)

 

I did pretty well when it came to not making friends. My health wasn’t exceptional so I missed school often, and if you don’t talk to a person they don’t become your friend. The only time I struggled was at lunch time. I used to have such a good time with all my girlfriends in Lake Stevens at lunch. We’d sit together, laugh, share food, gossip… Now I had 30 minutes of being alone with my food. For the first few days of school I ate in a hallway, sitting up against a locker, but people talked to me. Mostly outcast freshman, I didn’t want company. So I took my lunch elsewhere.

 

For 2 months I ate in a stall in the girls bathroom. I know what you’re thinking, I think that too. Sometimes I would cry and sometimes I would finish eating and start on homework. Again, I am well aware of how bizarre this was as I was the one in there.

Btw, do you have any idea how many bulimic teenage girls there are in this world? If I had to guess, at least 25% of the girls in my high school were. I would hear girl after girl throwing up while I tried to keep my lunch down. And if they weren’t throwing up, they were shooting up, snorting up or generally getting effed up. Those girls I reported, I had to do something. I couldn’t just be the weird girl eating her lunch in the bathroom while criminal activity was taking place. I gave myself a higher purpose. I was an undercover cop busting girls abusing substances. Except without the cop part. And my cover was a bathroom stall. And I would just tell the front office after I was done eating and they had left.

One time when I reported some girls for drug use in the bathroom, the office woman asked me, “How do you always happen to be in there when they are doing drugs?” I replied matter-of-factly, “I eat in a stall.” She cocked her head to one side and frowned, “Oh child, have you no friends?”  I sarcastically replied, “Oh yes I do, I just have a sensitive bowel.” She was not impressed and that response probably discredited furthering reports.

 

Time passed.

 

In December I accidentally made a friend. Our teacher changed the seating assignments and I was placed by this girl who always gave me dirty looks. I don’t know why she did, I had never said a word to her. For some reason, she decided to talk to me that day. Come to find out she was completely unaware of her facial expressions. That’s just what her face does when she’s not thinking. We ended up having a lot in common and after 3 full months of staying mum, it felt nice to talk to someone.  She asked me where I sat at lunch (I avoided that question) and said I was welcome to join her friends. And so I did from that day on. (Years later I told her where I had been eating lunch before she invited me to eat with her. Immediately she looked puzzled, nearly sad perhaps, then she couldn’t stop laughing at me.) I had made a friend!  And soon I started making more.

I created a good circle of friends in Meridian, Idaho. But unlike in Lake Stevens where most were girls, I only had 1 girlfriend. Kim. She meant the world to me. She saved me from loneliness, sadness and all the other negative-nesses I was inflicting on myself.

We had a mutual love, Brownie Batter. (Yes, I was blonde for a while…)

 

The rest of my friends consisted of 6 teen boys affectionately referred to as “The Guys”, they were like brothers to me. By January I was happy with life in Idaho.

But as my general happiness with my social life started to rise, my physical health declined. It was declining so fast that by the last quarter of my sophomore year I went to school once a week to get assignments and spent the rest of my time in bed doing homework, resting so I could see my friends on the weekend. This period of time was difficult for me. The decline was so rapid that I had little time to adjust to my new limits. I frequently over did it with activity and would experience extreme pain, fatigue and occasional paralysis in my legs as my body tried to recover from the physical damage I inflicted up on it. I’m not saying I went out running or mountain climbing. I would pay heavy consequences for walking around the mall for an hour. It was hard to adjust to this new lifestyle of limits, physically and especially mentally.

My brother would stay home from school to take care of me on my bad days, as my parents could not miss anymore work. During this time my brother and I grew even closer than we already had been. I depended on him for so much. He’d bring me my pills, make my breakfast and lunch, he’d watch endless movies with me and tolerate my afternoon habit of watching Star Trek. And when I would lose the use of my legs, he’d carry me around wherever I needed to go. Even to the bathroom. He was amazing. Seriously, a girl couldn’t ask for a more perfect brother, or best friend.

 

Soon my regular doctor was unable to help with my pain management and became very concerned as my quality of life declined, so he referred me to a Muscular Dystrophy Specialist in Boise.

Enter the best doctor ever! He was dry and sarcastic, a bit of a tool actually, and slightly intimidating but had a soft spot for people with MD, especially children. He was amazing at what he did. He also introduced me to the community of MDA, thank God for MDA!

 

 

My Fat Crotch Vexation

15 May

Exercise has always been a challenge for me. It’s been a constant balancing act trying to exercise my body enough to lose fat, and stop just short before losing muscle mass. I also have to maintain a fairly high in protein diet and I’ll be honest, I don’t always choose lean protein. Ok, so I’ve been known to demolish a whole package of Hormel Pepperoni in a matter of minutes. I also have a love/hate relationship with summer sausage. I know those protein choices are wrong, but oh man, they taste so good.

That being said, I take 25% credit for my crotch fat dilemma. 50% goes to muscle issues, 25% goes to pregnancy body debauchery,  and the last 25% to my own poor choices in diet.

I am getting better at food choices but it’s so difficult to maintain a constant healthy diet when T is buying pie, chips, and “Oh Henry!” chocolate bars. I mean, come on! Here I am trying to eat tons of fruit and veggies, and exclude all the garbage and he comes around with pie…. I love pie.

I’m writing this post because I was confronted with the magnitude of a particular quandary. Yesterday was so nice that B and I wanted to play outside all day. As the day advanced, it got hotter and I needed to strip down. I put on my swimsuit from last year. I checked myself in the mirror and although I am not “happy” with my body, I also wasn’t ashamed. I went outside to read and catch some sun while B splashed around. I plopped down on the edge of the deck, grabbing my book and finding a comfortable position. I looked down and started adjusting my bottoms when I noticed….

Whaaaaaaaaaaaa?!?!?!

So I know I put a little weight on after B was born but I don’t remember my crotch looking so puffy. What in the world? It looked like I had stashed a codpiece under my swimsuit. I poked the layer of fat several times as to tell it, “Hey! Where did you come from? Get out of here! You’re not welcome!” I’m sitting there, staring at my fat crotch contemplating how long it had been like that. How could I not have noticed this? I mean, I have a close relationship with my parts and I would think that of all people I would notice this. It was like that time I dyed my hair a new color and my husband didn’t say anything.

All of a sudden I was hyper-crotch-conscious. I had to get out of my swimsuit right then. I was worried my neighbor lady  would stop by and notice the crotch elephant sun bathing in my back yard. I needed to dress my crotch in baggy clothing. I finally understand why people who are weight-conscious wear over-sized clothing. I get it. I needed to minimize its presence. I put on shorts with a loose terry cloth fabric.

The shorts minimized the crotch avoirdupois but created another problem. My dimpled butt cheeks were hanging out.

Whaaaaaaaaaa?!?!

Those fit last year. They were shorty shorts, but no cheeks hung out. I was so bummed. I have more work cut out for me than I thought I did. It’s such a challenge for me to maintain a proper balanced diet of what my body physically needs, and exercise that does not deplete muscle mass. I felt so defeated and frustrated.

That all being said, I have decided to not put off exercising and to start with what I have. Which is a set of 2 pound hand weights and a Wii fitness game called “Your Shape” with Jenny McCarthy. Google says I have to work out my whole body to decrease crotch fat. So, time to get moving.

Question Period: Do you have a fat crotch? I know I can’t be alone in this conundrum. If you do in fact have a fat crotch or shorts-evading dimpled butt cheeks, I feel ya. But not in the perverted way… I barely know you.

Pubes EVERYWHERE!!!

4 May

OK, so they aren’t all pubes but they LOOK like pubes. Since I can not confirm or deny their origins they are all pubes, because I err on the cautious side.

I love my husband but he is a hairy beast. T sheds like a golden retriever. Except his hairs aren’t long, straight and golden. They are short, black and curly. It doesn’t help that the man is allergic to clothing, and immediately undresses down to his underwear the moment he enters our home. As he undresses the hairs jump off his body and find refuge on the floor. As he walks about the house in his skivvies and rough houses with B (who also has an aversion to clothing) he sheds his little hairs everywhere! I vacuum the couches and sweep daily as to keep my feet and clothing free of the questionable body hair. When guests come over I am always on “hair watch” and it really takes the enjoyment out of entertaining.

Don’t even get me started on what happens during/after sex. From the mixture of sweat and T’s hair loss, I look like his hairy equal. My clean-up is a bigger task than most women endure, and our sheets have to be changed. There is no way to rid the hair off them… Also, our dryer’s lint trap is consistently clogged with a mass of hair. Hardly any lint. Just hair, and more hair. I change it daily.

The bathroom is the worst of course. All the sac scratching while pooping (we all KNOW you guys do this) bathing and aggressive toweling really makes the hairs fly. And that’s the reason for my rant this morning. I’ve had it with the unidentified body hair. Something has to give, and its T’s hair. My life can not become a string of repetitive sweeping events. At this rate by the time I am 80 I’ll have swept up over 900 pounds of hair and wasted 5 years of my life in the process. I am sure of it.

I took to Google with my issue. I find that Google provides a solution for everything. I sorted through human-hair shedding articles first, but realized T is not your usual case when it comes to body hair shedding. I moved on to animals, we need drastic measures people. After about 20 minutes of skimming pet-shedding related articles my theory was confirmed. T sheds like he dog, he must be groomed like a dog. I’d like to thank the following site for your plethora of information. You have proved yourself invaluable in my fight against shedding and I will be incorporating your suggestions. http://www.petside.com/article/clean-freaks-guide-pet-shedding

Now off to Pet Smart! http://www.petsmart.com/product/index.jsp?productId=11324352

Recovery

16 Apr

Since September it’s been constant stages of recovery for me. My health was in a bad place and as my readers know, I was thrown a new hand from a player. Lucky for me there were a lot of things going in my favour.

I have players who never cease to amaze me. They are full of insight, strength and encouragement. I’m also wicked smart and intuitive, which helps me all the time in life situations. I also have never been so happy to be an American.

The new cards shook my whole life. I hate to be so vague about it all but it’s not the time and especially not the place. The big WWW just isn’t appropriate as a sharing platform. At least not this early in the game. All I can say is it got hairy and was touch and go for a while. And not in the good “touch and go” way…  There wasn’t a lot of self-help books for me, which I found very disappointing. And everything I did read kinda seemed like a “Duh.” in my mind. The advice they were giving in the books were so OBVIOUS, I could have written the book before this experience. That all being said, I guess God gave me something I could handle even though it felt like a ginormous kick to the metaphorical balls. I had this inner peace from the beginning even though my whole being felt pain. I knew what way to go, what to say, how to act…. I just knew it all. And for that I am grateful. These cards will most likely, in some way, be in my life forever. But I am confident that their impact, although initially devastating, will eventually turn into the single greatest growing experience my life will ever endure. Or I should hope…

I’ve always been proud to be an American. I might have some issues with our political system and its MAJOR malfunctions… I’ll stop there. This blog WILL NOT turn political. Obama 2012!!! …. (I tried not to write that, really I did. I wrote that during the editing of this post. What is my problem!?!?! See, always room for growth.)

As people know I have health issues. I struggle with my health all the time. Weird stuff usually, that has no rhyme or reason. Something is always going on with my body that’s not even related to my past MD problems. That all being said, the most recent odd thing was bursitis in my right shoulder as well as a concussion, given to me by my ever-dancing son. The pain from my shoulder became unmanageable and the concussion left me with social anxieties and constant headaches. My son and I flew to Seattle in February, back to home to my parentals, to get the care I couldn’t receive in Canada.  GOD BLESS THE USA and their flawed but wonderful healthcare system!!! After 2 1/2 months I am pain-free in my shoulder and it’s running at about 80% function. And although there was no hands-on help to be had with my concussion related issues (the anxiety could last forever they say), I did get a nifty medication that nipped the headaches in the bud as well as a medicine that aids my natural ability to sleep. Things are looking up for me in the health department. Every issue is under good management now, and with the new incorporation of clean eating/vegan lifestyle I am sure my arthritis flare ups will decrease and my energy level with increase. Cheers to good health!!!

So you’re up to speed on my Present Gameplay. I’m back in Canada, I’m working daily on myself physically, mentally and spiritually. Ever searching for that perfect balance to bring true happiness and completeness. Life, despite its many challenges has only strengthened me.

As you know (if you don’t, now you will) “Pain is just weakness leaving your body”. Some day, I’m going be epic strong. Like the Hulk, only zen-like without the green exterior, or male, or huge. Just small, and strong, and peaceful. OK, so maybe nothing like the Hulk. Dang it. I’ll be epic though, in my own Lacey way.

QUESTION PERIOD:
Have you ever had an experience that was horrible, challenging, scary or heartbreaking, but you came out of it like a superhero? And felt all epic-like afterward? Tell me about it, and be as detailed or as vague as you wish!

Concussions Suck Metaphorical Balls

12 Sep

Pardon my English (why do they always say French?), but they do.

 

Its been over a week since B danced attacked me and left me with a concussion. I have hated every minute of being bound to the house and to the couch in particular. I’m not the type of person who is content just lounging about doing nothing. Especially when the house is a complete wreck and I begin to smell.

And let me tell you, 3 days ago I smelled. Oh it was bad. I knew it was bad, I knew I should shower but I was so run-down that I just couldn’t find the desire to wash my parts. That was of course, until B snuggled up to me and then quickly pulled away stating with extreme shock, “Oh momma, your armpit stinks and the smell stung my nose! Look, see!” He then pulled up the tip of his nose exposing his “stinging nostrils”.  He’s 3 and speaks with utter honesty. He then proceeded to go into the bathroom and turn the bathtub faucet on… “Momma, come clean your stinky pits for Daddy get home!” He yelled. I showered. Thanks B, you’re a good son. =)

I have managed to sneak in a couple cheats while resting this past week. Beau and I made banana bread (I’ll post the recipe for you soon!) and granola bars (recipe to come once I work out the kinks), I talked T into taking me to a street fair which ended up to be short-lived as I totally couldn’t handle the noise and walking about focusing on things, and I managed to post about 9/11. I kept telling T “Just give me 10 more minutes…” as he eyed me and let out sighs letting me know he did not agree with my drawn out usage of “10 more minutes” equating to about 2 hours in all. What was he gonna do, take my laptop away? Pft, yeeeeah he wouldn’t dare. Not with the strange moods this concussion has triggered. I get a wee-bit enraged over minor things that really shouldn’t bother me. I’m hoping that goes away soon because with T’s odd sense of humor and ill-timed jokes, he could easily be the target of concussion rage. Would I legally be held responsible for bodily harm? Like if I threw a dagger or something at him? Could I plead Concussion Induced Rage, or Insanity? Hmm…I should look into this.

Well, with that all being said I am still recovering. But the good news is my speech has improved greatly as of today. Still slow, but I don’t come off as a person with a strange speech impediment anymore. I still have a constant tension-like headache, body aches, uncontrollable mood swings and a slight brain fog. But, I am better than I was last Monday so I’ll take it!

 

Thank you all for your continued prayers, good energy and thoughtful messages. I love every single one of you. Even the stranger who stumbles here by way of a search engine because of my tagline “balls”, I love you too. Feel warm =)

 

 

 

My First Hand

17 Aug

Starting off is always the hardest and not just in blogging obviously. The first day of school, first day at a new job, the first day of the rest of your life… You know what I mean? Well my first hand in the card game of life was dealt to me at the age of 8. Lets rewind and then I’ll show you my hand.

Honestly I can’t tell you when it all started. As far back as I can remember I always felt weak. I always felt like I couldn’t keep up with my friends, that I never seemed to have that sparkle of energy they all ran around with. The earliest memory I have of an exact instance where my little self knew I was different was when I was 4. I was just learning to ride a big kid bike along with my little bro (he’s 1 year younger but we were and are inseparable). We hadn’t been out there for more than 15 minutes when I started to feel so exhausted. My body grew weak, my arms and legs fatigued, and then… black out. I can only imagine the site of my little body slumped over my handlebars, barely sitting on the seat. Thank God for training wheels! I don’t remember how my parents handled this, all I remember is that feeling before the blackout. So helpless and weak.

Fast-forward 4 years. My weakness was starting to become an issue. As I was getting older it was becoming more apparent to my parents that something was wrong inside my body. I was frequently visiting Dr. B for difficulty walking, for my fatigue and overall tiredness. He was puzzled. He prescribed physical and occupational therapy to see if that could help me learn to live differently; To move my body in a way to preserve my energy. Shortly thereafter I got worse. My muscles knotted up so tightly even my massage therapist couldn’t work them out, my urine turned dark and I was losing muscle protein rapidly, and then shortly after the protein loss the worse happened. I woke up unable to move my legs. My memory of this morning is strange. I don’t remember feeling fear, anger, or confusion over being paralyzed from the waist down but that I was upset I was missing a “very important test”.  Hahaha, oh I loved school! This whole leg issue was going to make me miss a test I had been studying very hard for! I was 8…I should have been freaking out, crying, scared. What WAS wrong with me? My 24-year-old self looks back at my 8-year-old self and feels a strange sense of pride. Nothing was wrong with me. Physically yes, obviously. But my heart and my mind they were outstanding. I consider this day, this experience as my first hand. I can’t tell you just yet how this hand plays out, because many cards are dealt and discarded over the years. But for an 8-year-old, I’d have to say I man handled this hand! I stared it straight in the face and I didn’t let it scare me. I was all in. Is there any other way to play in life? I guess so but that’s not very exciting is it?