Tag Archives: physical limitations

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!

 

 

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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.