Just for fun

And because it's surprisingly accurate. I saw this on both Allison's and Sharon's blogs. Thought I'd borrow it for mine.

Your Life Path Number is 7

Your purpose in life is to find truth and meaning You are very spiritual, and you are interested in the mysteries of life. You are quite analytical and a great thinker. You have many theories and insights. A life of solitude is perfect for you. You need time to think and do things your way. In love, you are quite charming. You attract many with your confidence and wit. While you enjoy being alone, sometimes you take it to an extreme. You can become too isolated, shutting out loved ones and friends. Express yourself a little bit more, and you'll be surprised where it takes you!

What Is Your Life Path Number?

The Tax Man Cometh

And he hath slayeth me.

For the last week I have been delving into the seventh ring of hell known as the US Tax system. Don't get me wrong, I'm one of those crazy psycho people who actually *likes* doing taxes. It's fun picking away at the amount you get taxed on. It's like taking pot shots at the gummint. *Pow!*

But this year we have to not only file our regular taxes, but we also have to file a form 1041 and K-1s in order to close out the trust that The Husband is executor of. And since The Husband is deathly allergic to accounting figures and all that jazz, the job, of course, fell to me, insane sicko for doing things of that nature.

It took me four freaking days to attempt to read the instructions on how to fill out a form 1041 properly. And then another three days to fill it out properly. I thought I was going insane. Either that or I thought I was going to stab my eyes out with a pen. A more convoluted way of dealing with estates and trusts could not have been figured out, IMO. All in an effort to bleed more money out of a dead person at the expense of the life span/sanity of a still-alive person. The fuck?

This is yet another reason why we need to institute a flat tax. If we're going to be taxed, let's just make it the same across the board. No deductions, no "credits," no juggling the numbers. None of that crap. Just a straight tax, and tax everyone the same amount. It's fair. No more of this taxing the rich more and the poor less. Everyone should be treated the same. Equality. It's something we talk about a lot these days, but for the most part only pay lip service to. This is one of those areas.

Yes, this would mean that a whole section of the population would lose their jobs as tax preparers, but so what? If it saves people's sanity, creates a fair and equitable system, then by God we should do it. And don't get me started about how a federal income tax technically isn't legal because it was never ratified by the states. That'll just get me going again.

So now that my head is being given a chance to stop the perpetual hurting from trying to understand the IRS's convoluted clap-trap, I'll actually be able to, oh, I don't know, get back to my life, update my blog with a few things, and actually be normal for a change.

Now where is that bottle of aspirin?

Push 'em out, Shove 'em out, Waaaay out! *pboom!*

Yes, it's that time of year again. The time when the weather is nasty and icky and freezing cold. The time when mama sheep decide that it is the perfect time to birth little tiny baby lambs. Because of course we want them to have the best chance at survival with their itty bitty tiny and short wool coats. Riiiight!

Only my sheep aren't cooperating, and I am Very Upset. Where are my cute babies?

Clarice, our eldest matron, is due any day now. She is so fat with child (lamb?) that if you pushed her over and off all her feet, I don't know if she could get back up again without help. She is just this great big round ball of white wool with a light chocolate head sticking out. Very amusing to look at. Chocolate Chip is also rotund as well, although I don't expect her to deliver for perhaps another month or so. Oreo, the youngest of the three producing ewes, probably won't deliver until late February or early March, and she's only pleasingly plump. The other two females we're hoping aren't pregnant (yeah, right! I'm probably dreaming!) but I'm not going to butcher them because of the possibility that they might be. They'll get a reprieve from the dinner table until May at this point in time. If they haven't birthed by then, they're fair game and will still be mighty tasty.

Every morning as I drive by the pen on my way out the gate, I count sheep. Are there really only six in there? Is there anything small and white on the ground? What is that? Oh, just the water bucket. Crap. Where are my babies?!? Same thing coming home.

We listen to see if Clarice is nickering - it sounds much like a soft horsey nicker - calling to her newly born little ones to let them know that she is there. Nothing. Yet.

I'm on lamb watch and I'm impatient.

Six month update

Eighty-five pounds down, eighty to go. Not too bad for six months of good eating, tons of protein and gallons of water, eh?

I am finally at the point where NONE of my size 26 pants can stay on my body without a belt. No belt, and they fall down around my knees within a few steps. It's quite amusing, actually. But I'm still wearing them because they're nearly new and still pretty. And that I can't really find anything in the thrift stores, and I'm not paying full price for something I'm just going to grow out of anyway. But a size 20 non-stretch jean fits just perfectly, which is quite awesome so far as I'm concerned.

Size eighteen shirts fit a little bit tight in some cases, but mostly fine in others. I'm still wearing my other shirts, but luckily I can take them in on the seams so they aren't so baggy and they'll look nice.

Other than my hemorrhagic cyst, I've really had no complications at all. I have trouble sometimes getting in the right amount of water, but so long as I cart it around with me all day long, I remember to get it in properly.

I have yet to pick up my lab results (yeah, yeah, I have to find the time) and my six month update is scheduled Feb. 15 with Dr. K to go over them. At least I'll go into it prepared and we'll see what the game plan is if something is off-kilter.

Anyway, I'm still singing the praises of the DS. I love this life. Eating less, eating healthier, eating RIGHT. Let's make it stick, why don't we?

A sign of the end of the world?

I just bought a Martha Stewart Weddings magazine. I HATE Martha Stewart. Loathe her with the passion of a 1000 suns. (It's probably just jealousy, but I don't want to psychoanalyze myself too much on this.) But she was my only real choice because where in the HELL was the Modern Bride magazine? I'm just doomed.

Bridezilla land, here I come!

Updates galore!

Again, I'm not being really good about updating things around here. I should probably make a New Years Resolution about this, but seeing as how I haven't made any resolutions so far this year, I'll probably just stick to not making any, contrary person that I am. So I'll just ramble on here for a bit about things and try to divide it up coherently for y'all as best as I can.

* * * * *

We've had good news on The Husband front. With the second opinion about the condition of his knees (i.e.: "Why in the hell are you in my office wasting my time and why aren't you out there living your life like you could be?") there was a bit of a kerfluffle at work. They didn't know if they could handle having two diagnoses that were at complete opposite ends of the spectrum. Having one doctor say that he should never, ever do his job again and that there needed to be "changes" and "accommodations" made for him and surgery, and then a second doctor basically snorting at the first's opinion sent the HR department into a tailspin. There was talk about going to the legal department to see what they should do, getting a THIRD opinion, etc., etc. All of which stressed The Husband out considerably, worry-wart that he is.

But today his supervisor told him that HR is going to let the second opinion stand and they are going to "expunge" the request for accommodations from The Husband's file. Glory Hallelujiah! I think the lady in charge of the file was tired of it all (can't blame her there!) and just wanted to be done with the drama, seeing as how this was her last HR case and she was trying to move on to her new job. And I can't tell you how glad I am that she did that.

So, we now stand at no surgery (at least within the next 10 or so years), avoiding overdoing it on the knees if at all possible, and if not possible then knowing that pain medication is your friend and should be taken liberally. Not bad for a congenital condition, eh? I think The Husband is going to try to be more careful to avoid the pain, but he's not going to let it paralyze him into doing nothing. A compromise, as all of life is. Good enough for me. I'm still going to nag him about overdoing it, though. He can't get out of that so easily!

* * * * *

I'm still a week and a half away from getting back the results of the CA-125 test, but I plan on picking up my lab results for Dr. K's tests either today or tomorrow so that I can get a gander on what's going on. I still need to actually call and make my appointment with him for my six-month visit and will do that today.

* * * * *

On the "me and my body changes" front, the massive hair migration from my head has seemed to stop. I'm now down to normal shedding levels, but hair is very thin indeed - I've lost about half of the hairs on my head it seems. I'm going to keep up with the tea tree shampoo and see when the new growth starts coming back. I've added in a flaxseed oil pill three times a day to try and get as much benefit from that as I can. I know I don't absorb most oil, but doing it three times a day should increase the amount that I do absorb. I should probably add in some extra zinc as well and up my biotin. Every little bit helps, right?

Also, for the first time today I was able to use the belt that The Husband purchased for me to hold up my VERY saggy size 26 jeans. The belt came from Mervyns, which is notorious IMO for not having things that fit plus sized people at all in the accessories category. So now, my pants aren't threatening to slip off my shrinking ass, and I'm wearing an accessory that is usually purchased by normal-sized people. Hot damn! This weight loss thing really works! Heee!

* * * * *

I am OBSESSED with getting a tattoo. It's bordering on mania at this point. I haven't gotten ink in over 11 years and have wanted to the whole time. But now with losing so much weight and hitting my "halfway to goal" point, I want to decorate myself, and I am determined to not let anything stop me this time. I have been trolling for sites on the internet, looking high and low for designs that interest me. I discovered the Deviant Art site and they have a gallery devoted to images their members have made for tattooing. As with all artwork sites that aren't moderated as to the quality of imagery that is uploaded to them, a whole lot of the stuff is utter dreck - but then again art is as art does and what one person raves over is not another person's cup of tea. Seriously, though, some of it is just plain bad scribblings. But some of it is good, solid artwork that would definitely work when transcribed to flesh. I've downloaded a ton of artwork that I adore and would love to adorn my body with.

In sorting through it all, there is a definite theme to what I like. I like flowers, curvy tribal-ish designs, and phoenixes. And everything that I like has a definite feminine feel to it. I truly believe that when a woman tattoos herself, it needs to be chosen as if it was jewelry. It IS jewelry, one that is going to be permanantly on your body, and I have a need to choose it as such.

But the problem for someone who is going through massive weight loss is this: Where on earth are you going to put it? Definitely not on my back because if I have a lower body lift I don't want to do something that would be changed/stretched by that. Same thing for the hips, thighs and buttocks. Breasts and arms are right out as well because of future surgery. (As a side note, one of my friends who had WLS and then got a breast lift/augmentation done after she lost all the weight had a pegasus on her breast. When all was said and done, the surgeon trimmed the tissue in such a way that my friend now has pegasus wings sprouting from her areola - the horsey part got cut away with all they had to take up. It looks cute, but is not something I want to deal with, you know?)

This leaves the left ankle, my calves, my wrists, and the back of my neck. I'm not feeling the calf or ankle placement at all. I would love to have a delicate bracelet, but I can't find a design that I like just yet. That leaves the neck.

I found a design of swirly long leaves and flowers that if tilted just right would start a bit behind my left ear, widen out and cover the back of my neck, and then swirl away down to the right and then back up to peek over my right shoulder and barely touch my collarbone. I love the design. I love the placement. I even went and showed it to a local artist and she was so excited about the design and its possibilities that she wanted to book me a date to get it done right then and there. But all I did was price it out and tell her that I would be back in February when I saved up for it from my mad money.

And now I'm having second thoughts. Is it about getting ink again? No. Is it about the artist? A little, but that's because I've never personally had work done by her before. It's the placement. As much as I forget about it because we are so casual in attitude and for the most part, dress, I work in a professional environment. Aside from the occasional ankle tattoo on the ladies, you never, ever see a visible tattoo around here. And the design that I want, that I love, has the possibility of peeking through my hair every now and again. Not much, but it's there. And I don't know how I feel about that, or how others will feel about that.

I mean, it's not like I'm wanting to get a skull and crossbones emblazoned on my forehead or anything like that. I'm just afraid of other people's reactions. And I don't know why, especially as this tattoo is being chosen in such a way as to be considered artsy/pretty by all except those who absolutely hate tattoos and wouldn't like it anyway. In reality, my shirt should usually cover the right trailing edge of the tattoo, my hair length would take care of the rest of it as I rarely if ever put my hair up. Even though I know that, the worry is still there. And that bugs me because I don't know if it's valid or just silliness talking. I guess I'll work it out eventually, especially by talking with The Husband about it. But dammit, I'm getting ink somewhere, and soon!

* * * * *

After 13 years of marriage, I will finally be walking down the aisle. Yes, ladies and germs, The Husband and I are going to renew our vows yet again. Except this time I will actually get to PLAN out a wedding, instead of being surprised/eloping and getting stuck having nothing to wear but black. The first week of May will be very festive indeed for us. This will mean that we have anniversaries in April (original), May, June and July. Only eight more to go, and we'll have the whole year covered! I'm actually quite giddy with excitement over this - much more than I expected. I'm also kind of worried that this will seem dorky to some. But in the end, who cares, right? It's MY day! Heee!

* * * * *

Anyway, enough of my rambling. Hope everybody is staying warm with this cold snap we've been having. Talk about funky weather! This El Nino is doing a number on everyone here in the states it seems. TTFN!

Oh yeah. Just what I wanted for the New Year. Not.

Finally got in to see an OB/GYN about the problem going on in my ovary. Like my PCP said, he thinks it's a hemorrhagic cyst as well. However, because it is hemorrhagic and not fibroid, his ultimate verdict is that it has to come out. The sooner the better, because all hemorrhagic cysts do is just sit there and cause pain. And was my WLS lap or open? Open? Oooh. Not so good. We may have to do this open as well. Whaaa?

Unfortunately, he was called away before we could talk more about this and the possible scenarios that would play out. Next door at the hospital he had a patient in labor that was just beginning to push. And well, pushing outranks a non-emergency appointment, you know?

But before he raced off, he ordered a CA-125 test in order to rule out possible ovarian cancer. Agan, Whaaa? We'll wait a bit to get the results from that, and I'll come back and see him again to thoroughly discuss everything. I get my lab orders and appointment slip and go next door to get my lab work for both the cancer test and my six-month labs for Dr K.

As I sat in the office waiting for the phlebotomist, it kind of hit me. I'm more than likely having surgery again. And soon. And it's not for plastics! Aaargh! I knew it was a possibility when I got some feedback about cysts from others on one of the DS boards I frequent, but I assumed that OF COURSE this wouldn't happen to me. We could manage it with birth control pills or whatnot, right? Apparently not.

After I was sucked dry of EIGHT vials of blood (plus a bit of extra for good measure) I somehow managed to make it back to work. I nearly blew through the gate guard (that would have been very, very bad!) because my blood sugar was crashing, and fast, while I was driving. Again, not fun at all.

Once I got back to work and had shoved food into my mouth and was beginning to feel semi-normal again, I logged onto WebMD to get a quick perusal of what this guy was telling me and whether or not he was being overreactive. Nope. Apparently not. But there's also this little bit about how the CA-125 test can give positive results if there's a hemorrhagic cyst in place, instead of cancer. And how some forms of ovarian cancer don't show up on the CA-125 test. Cripes. Knowing my luck, it will turn out to be a false positive or some shit like that and I'll be put through the wringer. The Husband is freaking out about all of this, of course, and has immediately demanded that I seek a second opinion. Thank goodness for good insurance is all I can say!

I'm sure all will be fine in the end, but damn, this was not a complication in my life that was anticipated at all. Rolling with the punches, right?

Happy New Year!

Golly, it's been a while, hasn't it? Two weeks of lovely vacation with the family and then I had to drag my lazy ass back out of bed at the regular time yesterday. Both The Husband and I were thoroughly out of sorts because of it. Aaargh. But what can you do, right? Got bills to pay, mouths to feed . . .

Anywho, I feel like 2007 is going to be just marvelous. It was last year at about this time that I finally gathered up all my gumption and "came out" to The Husband after eight years of questioning that yes, I wanted to take the steps towards getting weight loss surgery - and six months later I did! So here I sit, another six months later, and I'm already approximately halfway to my goal. Utterly amazing!

It's kind of weird the way different people react to me now. A long-time friend had her parents visiting and they saw me for the first time in at least a year. Apparently, her father couldn't even figure out how to tell me that I looked nice in my holiday get-up because he was stunned at the change. Hee! Nice, but I'm really not going to be upset that you think I look better now. I KNOW for a fact that I looked like crap even dressed nicely when I weighed over 300 pounds. Believe me, you're not going to insult me. It's not like I didn't notice it or anything.

And this friend is also very much overweight herself. I'm hoping that by providing a good and realistic example of how you work the DS will give her the nudge that she needs to get her situation under control. She's dealing with PCOS and insulin resistance, and not even phentermine is helping her get her weight under control. It doesn't help that she likes to eat everything in sight, but for crying out loud, I'm hoping to get it through to her that the DS isn't about denying yourself everything you love about food for the rest of your life.

We were chatting about the surgery and the changes that I've made to make the best of it all, and her only comment was that she "likes her carbs." Well, hell. I like my carbs, too. But I fill up on my protein first and THEN I have my carbs. It may be only a mouthfull or two, but by gum I do get them in there if it's something I really like. This is about learning how to live realistically. Having a protein shake for breakfast and then another one for a snack later or perhaps for lunch as well is not a big deal. Honestly, it's not. There's GREAT tasting protein out there. But protein isn't all there is to this life, you know?

As an example, we recently went to the new Famous Dave's restauraunt in Palmdale, and took both her and her husband with us. Now her husband has been famous for YEARS because of the amount of food that he can pack in. The boy is astounding - stomach of steel, I tell you. When he and The Husband were in the Navy together, they went to an all-you-can-eat Mc Donalds. One price, and you get everything you want. He. Ate. The. Menu. And then went back for seconds. Seriously. So we took him to Famous Dave's because the portions are absolutely outrageous and we knew he was probably the only person we knew who could actually do justice to the food.

We order. The Husband and I are planning on splitting a 1/2 rack of ribs. We get the beans as sides. Our friend gets the rib tips and her husband gets the full rack of ribs just for himself. The food arrives. Friend's husband tears into the food with great gusto. I split off two ribs and begin to happily gnaw away. Friend tries to figure out where to start with her rib tips. By the end of the meal, the only person who had finished everything was this friend's husband - which we expected. We had to applaud. The friend made good inroads into her food, but instead of focusing on her rib tips, focused on the potatoes and beans and cornbread. I can understand that. They're good. It's kind of what I would do before the surgery.

The Husband and I couldn't finish our plate. I had the two ribs I sectioned off, about four or five spoonfulls of the beans, and then about 1/4 of the top of the cornbread muffin. That's it. A whole lot more than the average RNY patient, but a decent- to small-sized meal for a DS patient. I looked at our friend and asked her if she thought I deprived myself of any of the "good stuff." Nope. She didn't think so. "But the question is can you live with this?" I asked. "If you can, then seriouisly consider getting this done." She looked puzzled, but a light seemed to come on for her.

This was the first time I had actually eaten in front of her since about two months out of surgery. When you see someone who has had the DS do the whole eating thing in front of you, it can sure be an eye-opener. I know it was for me when one of my acquaintances took me to lunch at a Chinese buffet before I had the surgery. The girl could pack it away! But it was all carefully chosen and planned out - protein first, then the taste bud twinkles. And she is five years out of the surgery and weighs 150 and has been holding steady. Eating like that. Damn.

It's not an free-for-all eating smorgasborg to be sure. But it's also not becoming the food police. I knew I couldn't stick with being the food police 24/7 the rest of my life. You have to strike a happy medium and be normal. Not American "normal" and eat these enormous servings that they give you now-a-days, but real normal - the right sized portions in the right protein/carb/sugar proportions. That's all. The surgery does the rest. It's a good life, I think. Certainly better than the one 80 pounds ago.

But anyway, I feel like I have a new lease on life. It's a whole lot of fun, and I can't wait to see what the rest of the year has in store. Bring on the New Year!