I’ve lost my voice. My artistic voice. It’s 5:54 in the morning and I’m wracking my brain trying to think of something deep or witty or poignant or even remotely worth your eye time and cannot.
I’ve had a headache for two days (probably a side effect of the eating debauchery I embarked on starting Friday and ending Sunday and the instant 4 pounds I put on my often mentioned small frame).
Let’s talk about that. Let’s talk about my weight. (See what can happen when you just keep typing? Eventually something comes up. Now we need a picture. I’ll use this one as I’ve been told I resemble her – here’s Ms. Gwyneth Paltrow).
I used to be thin. It’s in my genes. My Nannie is thin, my mother is thin. I’m 5’10 and on average, now weigh 129 pounds. A few years ago, I was teetering between the mid 160’s up to 172 at my heaviest. I made a concerted effort to lose weight and it worked. No soda – no white bread – smaller portions – stopped eating when I was full (what a concept) – no eating right before going to bed. Nothing bonkers. Just sensible.
The catalyst was hating to take my clothes off and still seeing the outline of them on my body. LOL! That, and actually startling at my desk because “something touched my legs!!” (Turned out it was my stomach).
I was also uncomfortable, and my heart condition was getting worse. Although, my heart issue stems from my sinus node, not the actual heart – I figured it still couldn’t hurt.
Then I quit drinking.
OH! Do liquids have calories? THAT explains a lot. More weight came off. Because if I’m being honest, probably half my daily allowable calories came from champagne or wine or vodka or beer. And some days many non-allowable daily calories too.
I am not skinny! But I get comments a lot that I am.
This prompted me a while ago to quip on my Facebook status ‘why is it ok to point out someone is thin, but not that someone is fat??’. I think both are rude.
I came to the conclusion that ‘thin’ has negative connotations. It brings to mind disease, addiction, poverty. While having some meat on the bones has historically meant ‘privilege, wealth, success’.
Um. Can I ask again, why is it ok to mention the thin? It’s sort of ruder now I’ve pointed out what it brings to mind. What if they have just beaten a disease?? Or really can’t afford to eat? Ouch. That would be horrible! Because it’s never said privately out of concern, it’s usually flippantly thrown out there in public almost like it’s a compliment, except for that touch of distaste in the sentence.
I mean, you don’t just say to someone ‘Wow, your hair is really thinning.’ Or, ‘Your nose is so BIG!’. Why do we think it’s ok to point anything like that out? Boggles the mind. Just stop it. Keep your eyes on your own paper.
Now, if I wasn’t eating or if a bone was protruding, a well-meaning ‘aside’ from a friend would be not only acceptable but expected!
But I went from a size 14-16 to a 6-8, not a zero. I’m not skin and bones people. Trust me, I see me naked.
Hadn’t felt well last night – my heart learned a new trick last night and was showing it off. I held tight to my 40-year-old bear ‘Teddy’ and slept. This morning, it was still demonstrating its new trick. ‘Tug, kick, gurgle – repeat’.
As I’ve mentioned before, I have a heart condition. I take 3 different medications and just really sort of deal with it. However, when a new symptom presents – it is a little creepy, considering my existing issues.
I debated just riding it out, I have no health insurance. But I know that if something was seriously wrong and preventable, I would KICK myself for worrying about money over my life.
So, this morning I ran an errand – came home, told Nic I was going to the hospital and went to the emergency room.
I can’t even count how many EKG’s, IV’s or X-rays I’ve had at this point. I’m pretty well versed in the procedures. The nurse was amazing. We discussed books (I had brought my nook along) she was kind and warm.
My actual arm – don’t think for one minute I wasn’t already thinking about sharing my day with you lol.
Waiting for my blood and X-ray results, they brought a roommate in. This gentleman was in fact having a heart attack. He had come in the night before and they wanted to admit him, but he had to work so he had left. Bonkers! (But, probably I would have done the same – what is WRONG with us??).
They worked diligently on him. I had tears in my eyes hearing how brave he was trying to sound and knowing how scared he must have been. He went to ICU.
Fast forward to my release. I was told I needed to rest, relax and to see my cardiologist in a couple of days. Felt so blessed to be walking out – and hoped with every fiber of my being that my roommate would be OK.
I came home, feeling bruised and tired. Went grocery shopping – sent my son out for some quick food and lay on the couch. Sleep found me.
What I awoke to, in a fog – was my son presenting me with a root beer float. 🙂 That thing didn’t stand a chance.
It tasted of love.
There was a smell in the air too – he was cooking a peach pie.
How blessed am I?? Seriously. I am so very grateful for every single day. For the love I have in my life, and for every beat of my imperfect heart.