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Freaking June 29, 2007

Filed under: Daily Grind — booksunread @ 4:50 pm

Ack! I’m back! It was a lot of driving and I’m wrecked. But I got to see real live eyeball surgery! And I didn’t throw up! But I’ve got a million pictures to go through now, in addition to a million other work projects piling up and an interview to give this afternoon! And then, this weekend, I’ve got to do some more work! And pay bills! And get ready for company! And like clean up the yard, and bake stuff and go to the gym since I’ve been eating fast food in the car for two days! And Sunday we have a party to go to all day! And I do not have time for it!

BUT! I got my new one cup coffee maker today at lunch! And there will be much joy and rejoicing when I get home and set it up!

Okay, back to work freaking!

 Full update on my Grey’s Anatomy adventure next week.

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Road Trip June 27, 2007

Filed under: Daily Grind — booksunread @ 8:23 am

I’m off to Cleveland today to do a photo shoot for work.  I’ve got my bags packed, the Shopoholic and Sister on CD, and a couple of books to read in the hotel. (There is NOTHING on TV on Weds anymore. My DVR is practically rusting out this summer!) I’m even bringing my clothes to take advantage of the workout room. 

Of course after days and days of drought, and forecasts of rain without more than a sprinkle, we are getting a deluge right now. I hate driving in the rain. Much harder to speed. I hope it clears up and dries off before I leave at 11.

 

Ticking off the Trainer June 26, 2007

Filed under: Battle of the Scale — booksunread @ 9:00 am

So back in the early spring when I was being good and actually going to the gym, I wasn’t happy with the class offered on Thursdays and decided to give personal training a go during that slot.  I purchased a package of 3 sessions in the beginning of May. 

We got off to a bad start almost immediately. I turned in my questionnaire and without bothering to look at anything other than the times, the guy in charge asked literally the first trainer he saw (the one I turned the form into) if she could do it.  No thought about what my goals and needs were and if it would be a good match; why do they make you fill out the stupid form if they don’t care? 

So I went to my first session and it was kind of meh.  The girl is kind of young; I have no idea what her credentials and training are.  In our little getting to know you, she basically insinuated that classes were not enough (I was going M,T,W, Sat &/or Sun; a combo of cardio, conditioning and strength training) that I was going to have to go upstairs and use the equipment up there and should get the orientation to the weight machines, etc.  Then she took me upstairs and put me through a circuit of weight machines…and then put me on the elliptical trainer the last 10 minutes. I was barely sweating when I left. Um, I could have done that myself, for free, thanks. 

I was really hoping for more like an individual boot camp with intense cardio drills and weight intervals.  And I thought about just sucking it up and going through the rest of the sessions the same, but then I thought, hell’s no. I’m paying $40 bucks an hour, on top of the $80/month I’m spending on membership, I’m getting what I want. So I called her and told her that and the second session was much better.  She was still a little meek and shy, but she put me through my paces for sure.   

And then I got really busy, with company in town, or traveling for work and pleasure and also my total fall off the gym wagon since Memorial Day, and we’ve never had the last session.  We were supposed to last week, but then I had the allergic confunctivitis, and pushed to this week. Now I’m going to Cleveland Wednesday and Thursday for work. Next week is the day after the 4th-my P’s will be here.   Now we are well into July.

I can tell she is getting pissed off that I keep putting it off and that I won’t do any other day but Thursday (why should I pay to work out another day when there is a perfectly good class to go to that day?). Even though I paid the gym up front and the sessions are good for a year, I don’t think she gets paid until we have the session.  Well tough tooties.  I have to get cracking though, because I’m doing a trial membership at a new gym in July and if I like it, then I’m going to drop current gym. I think you lose any sessions you have if that happens. I was also kind of holding onto current gym b/c they have prenatal classes, but who knows when if I’ll need those, so probably time to just move on… 

 

Lalalala I can’t hear you! June 22, 2007

Filed under: ?Baby? — booksunread @ 1:04 pm

I married a man with the most selective hearing EVER.

The doctor’s appointment did not go as well as I had hoped.  For starters, the doctor was a full HOUR late. Not even in the building; he was across the street polishing off a vasectomy reversal.  This, of course, made Miguel BATSHIT.  He hates to be kept waiting on a good day; when he’s worried about every second away from his new job, it’s even worse. 

So we both met with the doctor and I have to say that I do not have a great deal of confidence in him.  Understandably, he was flustered from running behind, but he just seemed kind of stuttery and unfocused.  Basically, what he said was that based on the one test result, it was hard to say if there was a problem.  All ejaculations are different (hee, I almost giggled when he said that, I am 10), and one bad test result did not mean necessarily that anything was wrong.  And really, the critical morphology results that were the most dire are really narrow and overly strict are developed for IVF.  To which I wanted to say, “if there’s no problem and it was one bad test result, then why am I not pregnant GENIUS?” 

So he did the physical exam, and after, I had hoped to go back in and discuss his findings and also talk about what lifestyle factors i.e., drinking, could be affecting his counts.  But when the doctor is an hour behind, that is not going to be happening.

So Miguel came strolling out, happy as a clam and said that the physical exam was fine, so there was no need to worry about his football injury affecting anything.  The doctor said the most telling thing was that we’d had a pregnancy before so not to base anything on those test results.  Oh, and also, he said that drinking beer has nothing to do with it; don’t believe all that stuff that you read.  And based on the regular morphology, we’d have just fine a chance with insemination (you know, instead of the 10-12% chance the reproductive endocrinologist quoted).  None of which gets us any closer to answering the question, “Why aren’t I pregnant?”.

I had to clarify the lab orders for the second test (whether or not we could use the same lab we originally used), so I called the doctor back and said that I had some more questions.  When he called me back he was short and basically said that he wasn’t going to make any recommendations until he saw repeated test results.

So…
What I heard:  There’s no major physical abnormality; we won’t know anything until we get more test results.
What Miguel heard: Test results, schmest results, you can get pregnant no problem, have a beer!

So while Miguel is happily sunning himself on the river denial, sipping on a corona, there is no point in arguing with him.  I’ll just have to wait for the next tests results to come in and be just as sucky as the first before he will admit there is a problem.

God DAMN God DAMN. I just called to make the appointment for the follow up test and they’re only at the lab by us ONE day a week, and not even that next week. I can’t get him an appointment until the 3rd of July. And not until 8, even though they open at 7, so he is going to be late for work.  The lab we used last time gives Saturday appointments, but not until Friday afternoon and only IF the appointment times don’t fill up with IVF patients.

So we are looking at another 3 fucking weeks before we can do a god damn thing. There goes another month’s ovulation.  It will be the 12th of never before we can get pregnant.  Why didn’t the reproductive endocrinologist send us for a second test in preparation for the urologist? He said he knew they were going to want a second one.  Why didn’t the fucking urologist check how many tests we’d had when we made the appointment so he’d have two tests to look at from the fucking get go if he wasn’t going to do anything but feel up Miguel’s nuts at the first appointment without it?  And once the test are done, we’ll have to wait several days to a week for another appointment to discuss the results. Every appointment where you hope you’re going to get some answers and start taking action is just leading to another appointment and another test.

 

Nerves June 21, 2007

Filed under: ?Baby? — booksunread @ 8:51 am

So today is Miguel’s appointment with the urologist, to try to figure out why his swimmers suck so much and what we can do to fix it.  I’m nervous for a lot of reasons; I want it to go well and have them tell us that it is an easy fix.  But I have a feeling that is not what we’re going to hear.

I know one part of the problem is lifestyle-Miguel likes his beer, and doesn’t think it could possibly have that big of an impact.  He has plenty of friends who are big drinkers and they managed to knock up their wives.  I can’t convince him that maybe they were already starting with good stuff in the first place, so drinking didn’t have all that big of an impact as it would if you’re starting out behind.  That is one thing I’m hoping that the doctor drives home today, because he won’t hear it from me.

And I think that he is starting out behind because a few months after my miscarriage, he got nailed with a football.  He was on the verge of going to the doctor several weeks later, because it still didn’t feel right, when it started to feel better.  I’m wondering if that didn’t cause some sort of permanent injury, which is compounded by drinking lowering his sperm count. 

Of course, if there is some sort of permanent injury, probably the only way to fix it is surgery, something he’s not really excited about.  He’s at a fairly new job and doesn’t want to have to take off time from work for surgery and recovery.  I think he’s also reluctant to slap his junk up on the operating table.  I’m not even going to worry about it until we know what we’re looking at.  It could just be a laparoscopic outpatient procedure that he can recover from over a weekend.

What frustrates me most about this is that it isn’t an easy process with Miguel.  If it happened naturally, if I had just gotten pregnant over the last year of trying, he would be thrilled, we’d be having a baby, end of story.  But now that you start introducing all these other factors into the mix: making changes to his recreation schedule, taking time off work, sitting around impatiently in doctor’s offices as they’re running 40 minutes behind, having your privacy and body invaded, he is not nearly as sure as I am that this is the right thing to do. 

I can hear some of you out there rolling your eyes and relegating me to the status of train wreck blog: stupid woman forces her alcoholic husband to have baby, will be divorced single mother in under 5 years.  But you know, nothing is ever certain or simple or black and white in life.

I know I’m not fulfilled right now with the life we currently have, so I can either leave it be and be half happy for the next 50 years, or I can take a chance at something more.  We both realize that having a baby will change our lives and lifestyle dramatically, and in ways we can’t even imagine yet, so of course there is some fear and hesitation there.  Right now, his fear and hesitation are greater than mine, but I don’t have any doubts that he will be a loving and affectionate, if not always infinitely patient and attentive, father.  I can’t wait to see him be silly and roll around on the floor with our baby, and make up little songs for him or her like he does for the dog.  I can’t wait for there to be a little one with whom he can share his joy and excitement over Christmas, a little helper as he puts up the decorations the day after Thanksgiving.

 

The Merry-Go-Round June 20, 2007

Filed under: Battle of the Scale — booksunread @ 1:35 pm

For as long as I can remember, I’ve struggled with my weight.  I take after my mom with a tendency towards the chubby and food as a reward mentality. 

In January, I got serious about watching what I ate and going to the gym consistently, in preparation for a girls weekend over Memorial day.  I very slowly lost about 13 pounds. 

Since I’ve been back from that trip, I’ve been in a downward spiral.  I’ve been eating everything and anything I can get my hands on, and have rarely made it to the gym more than once a week.  I’ve put about 4 pounds back on.

Virtually every day I’ve told myself that I was going to get back on the wagon. That I wasn’t going to stop for a McD’s iced coffee (loaded w/cream and sugar) and also be seduced into a Mcmuffin or cinnamelt (“It’s new, I’ve never had one before. I’ll just try it…” for the record, it was dry and not worth the calories, but that didn’t stop me from licking up the excess icing off the bottom of the container), or I was going to eat a sensible lunch or dinner and not go out for pizza or after work dinner and drinks.  And I have failed every single day.  Instead I’m all “hey look, oreos left over from that ice cream cake I made for company, I’ll have 5 of them b/c one just isn’t doing it.” and “well, this ice cream cake is just okay, you know what would be better? If I put hot fudge and some of this mint chocolate chip ice cream on top of it.” 

I generally try not to keep that kind of stuff in the house-cookies, crackers, cheese, chips, etc. But we’ve had a lot of company lately and once the company is gone, I can not bear to throw away the leftovers. That’s another tendency inherited from mom: a complete inability to “waste” food.  So when I get home at the end of the day, it’s much faster to stuff some crackers and hummus in my mouth than it is to peel, chop and cook a vegetable.  I try to keep stuff prepped but even when it is in the fridge, when it’s sitting there next to a nice sharp cheese, it seems bland and no fun by comparison.  The treats just call my name and I can’t focus on anything else.

I resolved that this week, this week, for real, I was going to make it to the gym Monday-Thursday, and eat all the fish, chicken and veggies in the freezer that are already prepped, individually portioned and ready to go.  Except this week I have felt like there is a bottomless pit where my stomach should be, and a reasonable portion of chicken, with some wheat bread even, didn’t even hit bottom. Monday I did make it to the gym, but when I got home, I ate about five times more calories than I could have possibly burned.  This is despite the pregym snack of kashi granola bar and banana. Usually my pre-gym snack is either fruit or granola.

Yesterday was a bottom of the barrel day.  I specifically went home at lunch to let the dog out to accommodate an after work trip to the gym, and grab my gym bag.  After the chicken sandwich and tomato salad failed to satisfy, I went for crackers with some strong blue cheese.  Before I left, to get rid of the gross cheese taste in my mouth, I had a handful of chocolate chips that have been safely hiding in the freezer for months.  And they tasted so good, I grabbed the bag to take with me.  You know what bag I didn’t grab? My gym bag.  I was almost back to work before I realized it. 

I’ve lost count of the ways I sabotaged myself yesterday alone, including polishing off that entire third of a bag of Toll House morsels.  Even as I was shoveling them into my chip hole, I knew it was wrong, but they just tasted so good. And I have zero willpower and motivation.  I’ve had none since I got back from vacation and I don’t know how to break the cycle and get it back.

My complete drop in motivation and increase in appetite for sweet and salty treats seems to be directly correlated to the fact that I’ve also stopped taking welbutrin since my trip.  I originally got it to deal with some situational anxiety and also to kick start my weight loss (which I knew is a side effect from taking it several years ago for smoking cessation).  But I don’t really need it emotionally anymore and I don’t want to be on maintenance drugs I don’t really need, especially as we’re trying to get pregnant.  It is extremely discouraging to feel like I have to be on drugs to have the motivation to maintain a healthy and balanced lifestyle and weight.

 

Carefree as a Case of Chiggers June 19, 2007

Filed under: Daily Grind — booksunread @ 5:06 pm

Despite having tried Nair and similar products in the past, with disappointing results, I’ve lately been seduced back into dreams of depilated, smooth legs that last days longer than shaving by Alyssa Milano and her Veet ads.  Now there’s a product I haven’t tried yet; and it’s not just a lotion, it’s a system! With a bladeless razor! Must try!  (I am a Madison avenue wet dream, so suggestible!)

So off I went to the local DrugMart. Where they did not have the Veet products.  So I bypassed the heretofore ineffective Nair, in favor of a new unknown: The Carefree, Totally Smooth ™ Leg Crème kit.  Hey, well, they make panty liners, so they must totally be aces at hair removal, right?

So I toddled on home, skimmed the instructions, and slathered up my right leg (patch tests are for pussies! plus, I needed smooth legs, NOW!).  Keeping watch on the time, I quickly covered the left leg.  Since I was clocking in at right around 4 minutes since starting application (the directions advise 3, but no more than 10), I thought hey, I’ll just hit my pits while I’m here, too. 

My right leg was starting to tingle rather unpleasantly, so I hopped into the shower and went to work with the bladeless razor.  As I worked, the tingle became more of a burn.  I finished up the “shaving” part and quickly rinsed and soaped up the right leg and moved on to the left.  Both legs were now on fire so I was moving as fast as possible to get this stuff off and cursing my decision to also try it out on my underarms.

Looking down, my legs were covered with little red bumps; they almost looked like whiteheads.  Of course, I had wisely chosen to use myself as a human guinea pig as part of my preparations for a formal dinner I was attending that night.  With no time to dwell, I spread on some what I had hoped would be soothing lotion (sting! sob!) and steeled myself to apply my deodorant.  Luckily, my underarms were not that badly irritated. 

I managed to get through the night, but was still feeling the burn when I went to bed.  Saturday, I got up and was busy running around, so the continual sting was blocked out for the most part.  Later in the day, I realized that my legs were now covered in scabs-little bump shaped ones as well as gashes.  It looked like I had fallen into a patch of poison ivy or been attacked by chiggers. 

I could understand a bumpy rash as a reaction, but it looks like my skin actually blistered and broke open.  I don’t have particularly sensitive skin in general, which is why I didn’t bother with the patch test.  Overall time from starting application until rinsing was about 5 minutes, so most parts of my legs had the creme on for the recommended 3 minutes or less.  I can’t imagine what would have happened had I left it on for up to 10.

So it’s back to the razor for me; nicks and razor burn are nothing compared to damage inflicted by this “system.”  (When will I learn?  Do I really think SJP’s hair color came out of a Miss Clairol box or that Hayden Panetierre owes her dewy skin to Neutrogena and not that the fact that she is 16?)