Miscellaneous Stuff After the Pandemic

 Hello there, old UpholsteredBellyBlog! 

Many things have changed in a year. I've been fully vaccinated against COVID 19, and so have about half of the people in America. My husband and son have been vaccinated as well. Nick has also had a vasectomy, after wrangling with his doctors for at least a year about not wanting to have children, ever. His significant other, Sylvie, who is non binary/bisexual, (uses they/them pronouns) I gather, is also not interested in bearing children, so having Nick take responsibility for birth control takes a lot of anxiety off of their plate. 

Meanwhile, my PCP has put me on Metformin, though I barely qualify as being diabetic and have no symptoms thereof. My A1C stands at a 6, (and falling) and I've lost 30 pounds unintentionally, mostly due to stomach/GERD issues. Once my A1C is down to 5, I am going to insist that I be taken off Metformin, as I no longer need it, I don't care if I'm still "obese" by their definition. I'm also on Furosemide for water retention, and I appear to have an infection in my swollen left leg that isn't responding to antibiotics. So it's off to see Dr Clerc tomorrow to evaluate what can be done about it. Last week I saw a dermatologist who cleared me of having a tumor that could be breast cancer on my breast, but she was more concerned about me having DVT or a blood clot in my leg, so she sent me for an ultrasound, which was, thankfully, negative.

The year of quarantine that I survived really put me in an isolated tailspin, mentally and physically, though I still managed to hold my library book group meetings via Zoom online. But it was hard for this extrovert to go for so long without any contact outside of my husband and son. I missed chatting with people. So much so that when I went to get my hair cut, post vaccination, a couple of months ago, I am sure the stylist thought I was crazy, because I was so pathetically grateful to see her and converse with her as she chopped my hair into the shortest style its been in since I was 5 years old and my mother gave me a "bowl cut" with an actual mixing bowl and kitchen scissors.

Fortunately my mom (who is 83) and my friend Roger, who still lives in Des Moines, Iowa, not far from where he grew up in Ankeny (we went to high school together), have been writing to me regularly via snail mail and, in Rog's case, via email as well. It has been a lifeline to hear from them and know that life goes on for so many people. I really miss them both, and I am hoping to travel to Iowa for the holidays to see my mom in particular. I've not seen her since Nick was 13 or 14 years old (and he's 21 now). I really want to sit and have tea with mom at least one more time before she passes (though who knows, with the uncertainty of my own health, she could outlive me at age 60). 

I've been reading more ebooks and YA books and rom-coms than usual, just because I need a break from the death tolls and bad news that is everywhere. On the good side, that means that I will be nearing 800 posts on my book review blog, Butterfly Books, by the end of the year. Since I no longer work as a journalist, my blogs are the one place I have left to do some writing and reviewing and generally thinking out loud. I do still keep a written journal, but I only write in it sporadically, and after 2 years, I am only 2/3 of the way through it. 

In other news, my son has taken me to many appointments and also taken me shopping for the first time in well over a year, so that was a joy, (Note that the purse departments of both Fred Meyer and Kohls are decimated and diminished places nowadays, though I am uncertain as to why. Are women not using purses to carry their belongings anymore?)  Tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment and he will doubtless take me there, too. I hope that afterwards we can go to the Sequel bookstore in Enumclaw so that I can peruse their shelves, something I've not done for at least two years. I can only walk short distances, and I have to use a cane to steady myself (my knees creak and give out sometimes), but if I take it slow, I can still move around for a bit. I am short of breath a lot, especially during exertion, but when I use my nebulizer with albuterol ampoules, that keeps my lungs open for a good 4-6 hours on a day when there's not a lot of allergens in the air. 

Today would have been my best friend Muff Larson's 60th birthday, had she lived beyond her 47th birthday. Happy Birthday in heaven, my friend. I still miss you and love you dearly. 

Here's to the summer of stores reopening after the pandemic, and to reintroducing myself to people and places I've missed for so long. I also hope that my Crohns will stay abated, though now, due to insurance, I have to have my infusions at home, otherwise I have to pay $500 in hospital charges (like $8.85 for one measly Benedryl!When they cost pennies to make, and you can get an entire bottle of them for a dollar at the drug store). It's going to be a long, hot summer...have some fun in the sun, folks, and don't let anyone make you feel bad about your own upholstered belly floating in the pool to cool off for the next three months.

2020 Becomes The Year of Hell

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, 9 months after my last post, the world is now dealing with a highly contagious respiratory virus that kills people by smothering them in mucus until they can't breathe and their heart and other organs give out. The coronavirus known as COVID 19 made it's appearance in Wuhan China in December of 2019, and by late February of 2020 had begun its reign of terror across the USA.
Of course it started here in Washington state, in a Kirkland nursing home in March when seniors began dying in droves, and their doctors and nurses became infected and died along with them.
Soon the CDC and Dr Fauci (the White House infectious disease expert) started calling for states to shut everything down, as in places like Italy, where people congregate and share space (and breath) every day, the death toll skyrocketed. Hospitals in Italy and China became overwhelmed, as did hospitals and nursing homes in New York and Seattle and other major population centers.
People were told that they needed to wash their hands, stay 6 feet away from others and wear a mask. Toilet paper and other supplies, especially personal protection gear, were in short supply as people began hoarding and buying everything in stores out of fear.
Inevitably our leadership (Trump, the fascist POTUS) denied that COVID 19 was a problem, and created more fake news and falsehoods that drove gullible conservatives to do stupid things like eschew masks because they read the POTUS's position as the whole virus was just the flu and was a conspiracy by the left to cause problems for the republican incumbent (this isn't true, of course, but there are a lot of idiots out there who will believe anything that Trump says, though he's a known liar and con man).
Our state governor, a democrat who believes in science and experts like Dr Fauci and the CDC, decided to shut down schools, businesses, libraries, local government and administration, etc, while mandating that everyone quarantine at home with family and not go out for any but the most necessary items, like food or medication.
That was in March, and I've not been out of the house except to go to St Elizabeth's Hospital for my Remicade biosimilar infusion once a month, since then.
For an extrovert who loves to talk and have tea and discussions with friends at local cafes, it has been a rough four months.
However, for someone who has had asthma and allergies (and thus weak lungs that are prone to pneumonia and respiratory infections of all types) and a weak immune system due to medication for Crohns disease, I know that getting this coronavirus could be fatal, and that is not how I want to leave this earth.
I've still got a lot of living to do, and I'd like to at least make it to my 60th birthday in December.
So for now I'm a bookish hermit, and I've been reading up a storm and blogging my reviews on Butterflybooks.blogspot.com.  I've also been streaming shows on my computer, binge watching Netflix and Amazon Prime programs, as well as CBS All Access, Apple TV and Disney + .
I do Zoom video conferences on my computer for my library book group once a month, and I listen to podcasts when I'm not watching shows on regular network channels with my husband.
I keep in touch with my doctors via computer video chats as well, and I also have weekly phone calls with my mom and my best friend Jenny Zappala.
All of this helps keep my spirits up and I remain cautiously optimistic, though every time my husband or son drives to the grocery store or to a restaurant to pick up some take out meals, I fear that their masks and handwashing won't be enough, and they'll bring the killer virus home to me, and that will be that.
I have nightmares about drowning in my own mucus on a ventilator almost every night.
I've gained 60 pounds in the past year, and if you're not aware, doctors and other medical professionals often have an inherent bias against fat people. So if it came to reserving medication for a lithe 30 year old or me, guess which woman would get the goods? They certainly would take my weight as a detractor from who is more deserving of a chance at recovery...because fat women over the age of 40 are going to die soon anyway, right? (WRONG, but it's exhausting to try and educate medical professionals about bias and the reality that BMI was created not by medical professionals but by statisticians based on faulty samples decades ago. It is not an honest indicator of health).
Yet, fingers crossed, we are closer to a vaccine for coronavirus every day, and some are saying it could be here as soon as December or early 2021.
So I just have to hang in there for another 6 months or so, and I might be home free.
Fingers crossed.

An Unflinching Update

It has been a bit over a year since I've taken the time to sit down and write about my health, my body, my life.
There's good reason for that.
My health continues to deteriorate each month, until now, on the eve of my 59th birthday, I can honestly say that I've never been this fat or this disabled by a variety of immunological diseases.
The side effects of the medications and treatments necessary to keep me upright and living are the constant bloating and weight gain and inability to move more than a few paces without a cane or someone to lean on, as well as being so winded you'd think I would have run a marathon, instead of just walking to the bathroom.
I know that there are many women who are struggling with much worse diagnosis.
Cancer, ALS, Multiple Sclerosis, Dementia, Parkinson's disease and many more.
When I think about their fights for survival, or even just one more day of being who they are, recognizing their children, their spouse, their home, I feel like a coward for bellyaching about Crohn's disease and Sjogren's Syndrome, plus asthma and a constantly increasing list of allergies.
Add to that a family member's increasingly out of control alcoholism and diabetes and you have a recipe for spiraling depression.
But I continue on, taking it one day at a time, one hour, one minute, doing the best that I can not to cry and gnash my teeth over every setback.
My joint pain and stiffness keeps me from exercising, and I've not seen the inside of a gym since 2015. I miss being able to move and to strengthen my body, but we can't afford a personal trainer, and the one that I had who was affordable now operates an animal rescue when she's not working as a funeral director.
I miss having the energy to clean the house, and the ability to bend over and scrub or get up from being on my hands and knees.
I miss being able to work and write for publication, and having the skills and the energy to do interviews and get out there and talk to people and make money of my own.
I miss having friends over, going out to have a cup of tea with friends, or having them come in for tea, or going to a movie and chatting afterwards. My life has become so small and lonely. I rarely make it outside of my bedroom more than once every two weeks, sometimes once a month. I am an extrovert by nature, so it drives me crazy that I can't go anywhere without a ton of pleading and planning these days.
I miss being treated with loving care and compassion by my family. They treat me like a burden and a convenient verbal punching bag (not everyone, of course. I thank God daily for my wonderful son).
I miss being able to contribute to the community, even if it was only as a helper at the library or giving some food to the local food pantry or gifts for the giving tree at Christmas.
But I am not dead yet.
So I think of every day as an opportunity to at least try to be a little better. Try to get out of the house. Try to find a group of people online who can commiserate with me about autoimmune disease and the side effects of medications used to treat it.
There are days when I succeed and days when I fail miserably. But I fight on. As long as I'm on the right side of the dirt, I can do no less.

Thoughts on Age Discrimination, Disability and Size Discrimination.

This young woman has many of the same problems with mobility that I do, except she has the added difficulty of being a person of color, which only makes some people more prejudiced against her.
Here's the article itself, by Leah Ridley Brome (posted on Linked In and Facebook):
This month is National Disability Employment Awareness Month. I published this on LinkedIn to shed some personal light on a topic that needs more visibility.

A few days after dancing at my wedding, my back began to hurt. When I say hurt, I mean burn. It felt like every nerve ending was on fire causing my spine to stiffen and seize. I couldn’t breathe, not just from the pain, but literally, I couldn’t breathe - my oxygen levels were low, and I wheezed and whistled like a freight train. A childhood asthmatic, I thought I was having a particularly rough period due to exceptional lousy air quality or seasonal changes, but after three seasons had passed, I knew something was wrong. I was nauseous all the time from the pain that now spread everywhere, not just my back.
My doctors were at a loss, my inflammation levels were off the charts. They put me on a steroid medication called prednisone to help me function. The medication helped until it didn’t. It turns out, I am extremely sensitive to prednisone. The eighteen months I spent on the drug caused significant weight gain, muscle weakness and damage, and type II diabetes. The strangest thing about this period in my life was that I hardly noticed that my body was literally falling apart.
My career at my previous company was going exceptionally well. I had received two promotions in a year, the last one making me the leader of a new function - Global Talent Acquisition Strategy. When another department restructured, my team inherited work focused on recruiting People with Disabilities (PWDs) to work for the company. The program was incredibly successful in the stores owned by the company, but not as successful in corporate. Our team was challenged with increasing the optimizing the partnerships, pipeline, and processes related to recruiting PWD talent in corporate positions.
Around this time, I was forced to use a mobility scooter around my office because I could no longer walk long distances or stand for long periods of time. At first, I loved it. I zipped around the office with ease to meetings the same way I used to before all this happened. But then, I noticed something. When I was in the scooter, I became invisible. I could no longer confidentially enter a room. Not every door was handicap accessible, and often times, I would struggle to push a door open in my scooter. This would invariably cause a good Samaritan to come to my aid. It was a kind gesture that I hated being the recipient of. Even worse was when I had to ask my colleagues or my boss to load my scooter into a car when we would travel together. But my biggest shame was not being able to look someone in the eye when I first met them. They had to look down at me literally. Their smiles to me seemed patronizing. For some, I saw a flicker of surprise when they learned that the women in the scooter was indeed the same Leah Brome they had been talking to on the phone. I suspect in their mind's eye leaders didn’t use mobility devices.
A leadership retreat in New Hampshire was my breaking point. My scooter broke down at the resort after trying to make it up a particularly steep incline. The historical seaside resort was not accessible at all. My colleagues attempted to push me up the hill, and one even offered to carry me. Eventually, I got some help walking up the hill, and my colleagues carried my scooter in pieces until we could figure out the problem.
At that retreat, I recognized the obvious: I had a disability. The world no longer seemed like a place that was designed for me in it. Literally, there were some doors I couldn’t open. As an African-American, gay woman discrimination isn’t a foreign concept to me, but I had a lifetime of navigating that. I understood how to navigate that. Navigating a disability, especially one that was so "visible", scared me.
The PWD initiative I was leading now took on a more personal note. I now understand the courage it takes for a person with a disability to disclose their disability on an application or in a phone interview. I now understand the added pressure to a first in-person interview for those with mobility issues - figuring out if all the doors you will encounter are handicap accessible. Wondering if your interviewer will be shocked to see you using a mobility device or if they’ll ignore it (or over-ignore it, staring way too much at your face, afraid to even look at your device). Then even after you get the job, you wonder if the favorite after-work haunt can accommodate you and whether or not you’ll be the person who ruined all the fun by not being able to join the group. You wonder if your higher-than-usual number of doctor’s appointments will cause others to question your committment to your employer. You wonder if you’ll ever be promoted, and if you are, will you be respected as a leader because you are different? You wonder if networking will always be so hard, with some seeing your disability before they see you, and you wonder if you’ll lose opportunities your other colleagues might not. You worry that you are asking way too much of a manager to “accommodate” all the uniqueness that is you and you question if it is that fair to them. If you have an invisible disability, you wonder if maybe you can “pass.” Maybe you can purchase and bring in your own devices to help you do your job, and no one has to know. These are just a few of the consistent thoughts and concerns that PWDs have when they seek and obtain employment.
Attracting PWD talent is more than just stating that we don’t discriminate at the bottom of a job posting. It’s about showing candidates that we have purposefully designed space for them within our everyday operating practices.
My greatest fear was that my disability would change me, and it did. I am more empathetic, humble, and more authentic at work and at home. The doors of the world may not have been built for me to pass through them easily, but somehow, I’ll find a way to scoot on through. That’s just how I roll.
https://www.linkedin.com/…/thats-just-how-i-roll-navigatin…/

I have experienced many of these things when using the grocery store electric cart/wheelchair, because more often than not they break down in the middle of the aisle, causing embarrassment to me as I have to find someone to get me another one that works or fix the one I am on. When using my cane I move along slowly, because I can only take small steps with my knees and back hurting and full of inflammation and edema. But most people only see a fat woman struggling and they judge me as someone who only eats junk food and has no self control, who has "let herself go" and all kinds of other cliches and stereotypes that are far from the truth. "Concern trolls" on the internet and sites like Facebook constantly post about how obesity/being fat is not only ugly, but it will kill me with a heart attack, diabetes or any one of a million other diseases, despite the fact that my heart and blood pressure are fine, and I don't have the gene for type 2 diabetes (nor do I actually have diabetes). And yes, just as Ms Brome said, you worry that employers will either discriminate in hiring you or fire you for being too much trouble if you do get the job. I rarely even have the chance to interview for a job, as my age and gender are a factor that hiring managers don't want to deal with. Add to that the thought of having to deal with an older woman with a disability and you have the perfect storm of someone who will be ignored and overlooked when it comes to hiring, even for jobs that I am well qualified for, or have worked on in the past.
So while the Me,too and TimesUp movements continue to try to hold men accountable for sexual harassment and rape, and for sexism and a whole variety of indignities that women experience every single day, the "It's Okay to be Fat" movement faces an even steeper hill of prejudice and ignorance in a society that wants women to be consistently dissatisfied with how they look and how they feel about their bodies. It weakens us as women to see ourselves as ugly and unlovable because we can't meet the "perfect" standards of airbrushed and photoshopped models whose pictures aren't even real to begin with.
Then there is the question of hair color...to be gray or not to embrace gray/white hair? www.grayisthenewblonde.com
Women are taught that to be older is to be ugly and invisible, and in a society that worships youth, you are called upon to remove all the hair on your body (except for the hair on your head) and color the hair on your head, lest you be seen as "grandmotherly" or "ancient." The problem there is that there is power in accepting your age and reveling in the looks that you've grown into.  But companies don't make money off of women who accept themselves as they are and don't color their hair or spend cash on the latest diet fad or on waxing/shaving products to make themselves as hairless as prepubescent children. The patriarchy is behind this, of course, old white men who want to control and subjugate women by setting "standards" of looks and behavior that are impossible to attain or retain. BE WHO YOU ARE, RIGHT NOW. Love your body, flaws and all. Accept your age and enjoy the wisdom of knowing what you know and of your experiences as a human being. Being disabled has made me realize that I can't waste a single moment trying to be what some ad agency or some other group of prejudiced old white men want me to be. I must live and love on my own terms. So should you. Don't give up, don't allow anyone to tell you who you are, and squeeze the juice of life from every last second. 

Down, But Not Out

I haven't written here in three years, and I have only my flagging health and self esteem to blame. I've gained over 100 pounds and added a diagnosis of PCOS and Sjogren's Syndrome to my list of ailments and disabilities, so now I sometimes have to walk with a cane, and I can barely get from one part of the room to another without wheezing and feeling short of breath. I've tried to work out with a lovely personal trainer named Stephanie this year, who comes to my home and helps me work with resistance bands and weights, and never asks me to do more than I can handle. In fact, she always keeps up a steady stream of conversation to ensure that I am not overdoing it.

Meanwhile, my Crohns is doing well on Remicade, which I feel has been treating my body like it's on cortisone since 2014...hence part of the weight gain (PCOS and menopause are the other parts, in addition to having regular bouts of pneumonia so that I had to quit the gym because I couldn't breathe and had to take tons of antibiotics to recover). This year I had a very expensive pneumonia vaccination and a flu shot to keep me from ending up in the hospital with bronchitis or pneumonia, and I have been lucky that so far they've been fairly effective, with only a couple of bad colds/infections that I've had to deal with. This week I'm taking Diflucan to get rid of a persistent yeast infection, and for some reason it's helping my sinuses and my lungs.

Still, as my weight inches up, I can't seem to get around without taking tiny, shuffling steps, and I can't stand for more than 15 minutes, even in the shower, without feeling faint and my back burning with the arthritis the rheumatologist showed me is there. I have heinous edema in my ankles, feet, lungs, knees, hands and face, and I have to take Lasix twice over 24 hours in order to keep mobile and feeling like I'm not drowning. I also have a nebulizer with albuterol that I used twice a day to keep my lungs clear, along with nasal sprays and antihistamines.

Being such an extrovert, I really miss getting out and talking to people, and having tea with friends, but I rarely go out these days. My neighbor/friend has health issues to rival my own, and makes excuses not to see me, so we've only been out to have tea once this year. Another friend and I have gone out for tea and a chat, but she is about 15 to 20 years younger than I am and therefore has a busy work life and church life to deal with, so I don't see her much, either. My monthly book group has been my social saving grace, but it's only for an hour and I often linger to talk to the librarians because I am starved for social contact with like minded bibliophiles.

Speaking of bibliophiles, thank God and all of creation for books, my stable passion for the worlds that unfold between their pages has never abated. Though I need stronger reading glasses this year, I still manage to put away 4-5 books a week, and I blog about them religiously on my butterfly books blogspot page, where I am almost to my 650th post! Since my journalism career is moribund, my book blog is the only place left to practice my writing skills and keep myself in tune with my love of words.

My son, who graduated from high school with honors this past June, is now driving everywhere in our old Nissan, so he often takes me to book group (where he is hailed as the conquering hero...all the ladies adore him, and he's charmed them with his dry wit and compassionate intelligence) and to my Remicade appointments, where after I'm done, he and I sneak off to Enumclaw's used bookstore to peruse and purchase books, expressly against my husband's wishes, because Jim is always saying that I have too many books to read as it is (I keep telling him you can NEVER have too many books!)

Though I have been turned down for social security disability 5 times now, I believe I am fortunate that I have a roof over my head, food to eat and a family to love. I can still bathe and dress and feed myself, and I have plenty of lovely books from the library and bookstore to read and enjoy. There's also Netflix and Redbox and the DVR for shows that I want to watch and can't miss. My mom is only a phone call away, and at nearly 81, she's still sharp as a tack. My father, who now lives in a nursing home, has been through a bout with pneumonia and two of Cdiff, and is skinny, white haired and confused most of the time, as he wrestles (at age 86) with dementia. I only hear about him through his 4th wife, who sometimes will let me talk to him over the phone, where he can barely hear or speak due to deafness and loss of all of his teeth (his wife is trying to get him dentures). But dad is a tough old guy, and my younger brother goes to check in on him every week, though he knows dad probably won't recognize him half the time. Dads siblings, my aunts and uncles, still come around once a month to also chat with dad, and often they watch a football game with him on TV. My dad loathes being isolated as much as I do, so I find myself wishing I had the wherewithal to hop on a plane and go visit him for awhile, and then slip back out of Iowa and fly home. I wish that I could be a better daughter, and let him know how much I love and miss him. I try to keep in contact with mom each week, and I send her books and tea as often as I am able.

I tire so easily now, and I'm already worn out, exhausted from a day where I went no further than the kitchen down the hall from my bedroom, which can, at times, feel like it's miles away.  But I fight on, like Don Quixote, like Cyrano, like all the dreamers who dream of rising above the limits of their bodies and their circumstances. Blessings to you all, good night.

On Being Bigger Than Ever Before, and Ursula Le Guin's Wise Words on Beauty and Aging

I've been on Remicade for just over a year now, and during that time, I've gained about 60 pounds, taking me to being the largest I've ever been in my life. I noticed that it's harder for me to move during exercise classes now, and I get winded just taking a shower. I can't stand for more than an hour and 15 minutes without getting a back spasm, and I am unable to touch my toes while standing or tie my shoes by just bending over anymore.
That said, I am almost 55 years old, and I've had Crohns disease for 15 years, with only one operation on my intestines so far, so that's a win for my body, because most Crohns patients end up with multiple operations and a colostomy bag within the first 5-7 years after diagnosis, depending on the severity of the disease. So many fellow "Crohnies" that I read about on Crohns and Colitis websites are struggling just to stay alive and have a halfway normal life. Some can barely get out of bed, and a majority have trouble holding down a job, because they spend so much time running to the bathroom. So I feel that I am fortunate in that I can still get out of bed in the morning, I can still do some household tasks, and I can still write in my blogs and keep up with my son and husbands needs. I can also complete three exercise classes a week, though I have to modify a lot of moves to low impact.
Despite the love and acceptance of my family and friends, though, I still feel bloated and hideous sometimes, and I struggle to reconcile how I feel with how I look in the mirror.
Science fiction author and sage Ursula LeGuin has some brilliant comments on beauty and aging, which spoke to me in a way they wouldn't have just 15 years ago.

"Perfection is “lean” and “taut” and “hard” – like a boy athlete of twenty, a girl gymnast of twelve. What kind of body is that for a man of fifty or a woman of any age? “Perfect”? What’s perfect? A black cat on a white cushion, a white cat on a black one . . . A soft brown woman in a flowery dress . . . There are a whole lot of ways to be perfect, and not one of them is attained through punishment.

Beauty always has rules. It’s a game. I resent the beauty game when I see it controlled by people who grab fortunes from it and don’t care who they hurt. I hate it when I see it making people so self-dissatisfied that they starve and deform and poison themselves. Most of the time I just play the game myself in a very small way, buying a new lipstick, feeling happy about a pretty new silk shirt.

One rule of the game, in most times and places, is that it’s the young who are beautiful. The beauty ideal is always a youthful one. This is partly simple realism. The young are beautiful. The whole lot of ’em. The older I get, the more clearly I see that and enjoy it.

And yet I look at men and women my age and older, and their scalps and knuckles and spots and bulges, though various and interesting, don’t affect what I think of them. Some of these people I consider to be very beautiful, and others I don’t. For old people, beauty doesn’t come free with the hormones, the way it does for the young. It has to do with bones. It has to do with who the person is. More and more clearly it has to do with what shines through those gnarly faces and bodies.

Who I am is certainly part of how I look and vice versa. I want to know where I begin and end, what size I am, and what suits me... I am not “in” this body, I am this body. Waist or no waist.

But all the same, there’s something about me that doesn’t change, hasn’t changed, through all the remarkable, exciting, alarming, and disappointing transformations my body has gone through. There is a person there who isn’t only what she looks like, and to find her and know her I have to look through, look in, look deep. Not only in space, but in time.

That must be what the great artists see and paint. That must be why the tired, aged faces in Rembrandt’s portraits give us such delight: they show us beauty not skin-deep but life-deep."
Ursula K LeGuin, from her book "The Wave in the Mind, Talks and Essays on the Writer, the Reader and the Imagination."
I realized that I have to work harder now to accept my flawed, fat and aging body for what it is: A miracle that encases my good soul. Here's what Kate Mulgrew has to say about giving up on "vanity"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zaF0--u-q6Y

Just Read This on Boston Craigslist

I lived in the Boston Cambridge area for four miserable years, (for grad school) and I was constantly made hash of by creeps, so I can identify with this, but if I could I would send an email of thanks to the woman who wrote this protest to let her know she's amazing and makes me have faith in humanity, at least the humanity of Boston, again. Thank you, anonymous woman.

To the shitstain who made a woman cry on the T - w4m

"You got up right before the Stony Brook stop and said something in a low voice to the woman next to you. You exited the train and she burst into tears. I asked her what you said---and in between sobs she goes, "he said 'Have some respect for yourself and lose some weight'".

Oh shit, you said that to a complete fucking stranger, an innocent person trying to read a book on her ride home!!! Yeah dog, you sure did, and then you turned heel and walked off like the miserable coward you are.

You publicly humiliated another human and made her cry. How truly fucking horrifying of you. She was totally stunned, and devastated. . .is that what you wanted to see happen? Are you that much of a nightmare that you are PLEASED by making people cry? Total strangers even? I don't think I can fully express to you what an absolute skidmark you are, but here goes:

You: blond, slicked hair, hipsterish. You manage to be both tasteless and sanctimonious, and something tells me you brag about loving Bukowski even though you only made it 80 pages deep into Women. You definitely think you're smarter than everyone, and you love reflective surfaces. You work in design/tech/oh wait, who cares, you don't fucking matter. You treat women like garbage, but don't worry---we hate you. You have a stank on you, and a lot of us can smell it...truly a dookiestain made flesh. You don't have an original thought under that stupid haircut. You are a straight up fucking bully, and you should be ashamed of yourself. Bullies are the absolute worst.

The thing is, part of you knows this, and you're upset that no one treats you like the special snowflake you believe yourself to be. So you say horrible things to strangers in public to make yourself feel better. Stop being such a fucking bully and shitting on other humans just because your wounded-ego feels like taking a dump. No really, just fucking stop.

Any of my fellow feminist vigilantes who might be reading this: keep an eye out for a white dude, around age 30, who looks like a wacker version of Macklemore, if that's possible. Make sure you remind him of his insignificance.

And to the woman to whom this human diarrhea pile directed his steaming ego turd: keep your head up girl, it's not even about you. I hope it didn't ruin your day. "

 

Also, a Crohn's update: I had an x-ray defcography last week to find out why it is so hard for me to deficate. Dr Mulhall's nurse called me yesterday and said that the test, which took 3 and a half hours, showed that I had multiple abnormalities in my lower bowel, including a recticele, strictures, large internal hemeroids and some kind of abcess. Unfortunately, Dr M wasn't in last week, and I couldn't get an appointment to see him until September 12, my late stepfather's birthday (RIP Lloyd). But the nurse said she'd put me at the top of the waiting list because she felt that I needed to see the doctor sooner than that to get a plan of action going to correct these problems, which said to me that I am going to need lots of surgery. I dread surgery because I am slower to heal when I am on biological drugs like Remicade. There is always the chance of complications with surgery, of infection, of dying on the table, and I have a teenager to raise, so I can't shuffle off this mortal coil yet. 

But today, as Dr Cargill was removing some anal skin tags that had become inflamed from my rump, I was reminded that the first rule of dealing with Crohns, for a Doctor, is "try to avoid surgery." Because Crohn's patients make a lot of adhesions and other problems out of scar tissue from surgery. Plus, Dr C told me that Dr M is the quarterback of my team, and that I need to wait to see what play he was going to call to help me feel better in the future. So I shouldn't worry and fret about it now.  I am trying to heed his advice, and the advice of his lovely nurse Lisa, and just take deep breaths and wait to see what Dr M and I can come up with to treat my Crohns.

Remicade and Side Effects Thereof, and Menopause

First, a cute kitten video, just because...kittens! https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=eZzn0Zi1Kc0

Now, I'm going to write an update on my Crohn's, how it's going and what is going on with the upholstered belly.
But first let me state categorically that MENOPAUSE SUCKS.
Since I began taking Remicade about 7-8 weeks ago, I have had so many hot flashes that I am surprised that I haven't melted into a puddle of grumpy fat.
The flashes come on me all of a sudden, and then I feel like a baked potato in a microwave, being cooked from the inside out, as sweat pours off of my face and chest. I also have night sweats, which, in conjunction with hot flashes, leave me feeling like I'm living in the third ring of Hades.
I also have constipation, belly bloating (more than I already had with Crohns) and I'm very emotional, often vacillating between wanting to hug everyone and cry and wanting to punch people in the face and cry. Nightmares and insomnia are also not helping me maintain my equilibrium.

I'm also gaining weight at an exponential rate, so now I am this huge, fat, grumpy, red-faced sweaty old woman with tight clothes who people would do well to avoid. So that all makes me depressed, which leads me to my other complaint, which is that my doctors seem not to know which of my symptoms are side effects of the Remicade and which are menopausal. The crazy OB/GYM that I went to see wanted to do what most male doctors want to do with women undergoing the change, which is put us on hormones and anti depressants and breathe a sigh of relief when we get cancer from the hormones so they don't have to deal with us anymore, now that we're no longer able to produce children and be all young and sexy and obsessed with pleasing men. Most of the women I know who are my age or even a few years younger find that they could care less about sex and about their demanding portly husbands and rude teenage children. (I must note two things here, first that my son Nick is not a rude teenager, exactly the opposite, actually, and he's also still quite compassionate and always gives his mom a huge hug and kiss every day. Also, my husband says that I am not fat, grumpy, sweaty and red faced to him...he still sees me as his frisky wife, just in slo-mo).
I am fortunate in that my husband, since his prostate removal, could also care less about sex, and is actually acts more like a teenage girl than I ever did. He's also got diabetes, so he's working on his diet, finally, by eating a protein rich diet and doing some exercise and only drinking one or two beers a day/night. So he's undergoing a manopause transformation by losing weight.

Meanwhile, next week is my third or fourth (I can't remember, another great menopause symptom, forgetfulness) Remicade infusion at the beautiful Day Surgery Center at St Elizabeth Hospital in Enumclaw. Seriously, I highly recommend this place if you're going to have any kind of outpatient procedure at all, because the nurses are wonderful, the DSC is small and new and appointed with nice chair-beds, regular beds with air conditioning and even lunch service. It's sort of like going to a very clean spa staffed by nurses and doctors.
But the problem is that after each infusion, I feel like I am pregnant, and while I'm nauseous, bloated, fatigued and constipated and I am more importantly unable to deficate for at least 48 hours. This is particularly frustrating because Remicade is supposed to ease my Crohns symptoms enough that going to the bathroom is easier, not harder. I have to strain and push like I am going through labor every single time I'm on the toilet. I've also got something akin to interstitial cystitis, because I get up every two hours in the night to pee, and if I try and wait to urinate, I am incontinent.

Sounds like loads of fun, doesn't it? The only good thing about the Remicade so far is that I've only had two short, mildly painful flares since going on the drug. That's a vast improvement over having three or more flares a week that were always 6-8 hours long and hella painful. My gastroenterologist, Dr Mulhall, is finally back from whatever emergency was keeping him away from his practice. So I've been to see him, and last week I called in hopes of talking to him about my symptoms on the phone. His nurse, whom I left a message with, didn't call back, but I hope to hear from them before my infusion on the 29th. Oh, and I have discovered that the Nortryptaline that I was taking before bedtime doesn't work anymore, instead it makes me constipated and anxious. So I've stopped taking it in hopes of some relief. I have to keep my spirits up, though, and not fall prey to depression and anxiety attacks, or I will end up on more anti-depressants with their nasty side effects of even more weight gain.
I am still exercising 3-4 times a week for at least an hour, and I just read a great book about going through menopause called "The Madwoman in the Volvo" that was pretty funny but somewhat unrealistic in its solutions for the average middle aged woman. (Most of us can't afford to have a maid come in to clean, or to get a divorce and remarry someone more exciting who cooks and dotes on you 24/7. Nor can I afford fancy getaway weekends, parties, spas or rehab. Considering I don't drink or do recreational drugs, I think I don't need to worry about the latter.) Still, the parts about having to care for your family and also care for your aging parents who do crazy stuff really resonated with me. Unlike Loh, the author, I don't have a fancy background and tons of freelance jobs to fall back on, nor do I have a ton of well connected friends who send work my way or a father who has a bunch of bank accounts with money saved in them for me. I don't write books, either, and I only did stand up comedy for a brief period of time in the 1990s. So I have more reasons to kvetch than Loh does, yet I would say that I am not nearly as bitter or mean as she claims to be, and I would never consider leaving my husband and son in a fit of pique.
However, I am hanging in there, and I hope that this summer will be a good one. We're taking our annual drum and bugle corps trip to Portland, Oregon, with it's annual Powells City of Books pilgrimage for me, while Nick is taking a computer coding class at a local community college. So here's to a hopefully cool summer and a few months without pain and strictures and other Crohns problems.

Where I'm At With My IBD

First of all, I have to say that I am so sorry that I've been away from this blog for so long. I have been wrestling with my Crohn's and with getting medical insurance and landing on the tables of two new doctors, Dr Brian Mulhall, who is my new gastroenterologist (and a total hottie, not that I noticed) and Dr Tanya Wilke, who is my new Primary Care Physician, or PCP. Dr Wilke is also pretty awesome, a nice young gal who doesn't throw around any BS about my weight and assume that everything "wrong" with my health is somehow related to my size.
She is aware that I don't have diabetes, or high cholesterol, or hypertension (high blood pressure) or cancer, or any of the other ills that are said to be caused by being 110 pounds overweight.
She is also aware that I work out at least 3 times a week at a local gym, that I can't have dairy, eggs, nuts, onions, garlic, green beans, strawberries or oatmeal in my diet, because they cause me to have a flare and/or an allergic reaction that makes me stop breathing. Dr Mulhall is also aware of these allergies and he and I have talked about how difficult it is to eat healthy when I have Crohns and allergies. My Crohn's goes crazy whenever I eat raw fruits or vegetables, and there are veggies that, even cooked, (broccoli and cauliflower are the two that spring to mind) make my intestines go crazy and cause me pain and suffering in the bathroom. Doc M has asked me to try being gluten-free for a week, to see if that helps any, and though I managed three days, I was sick with some kind of flu, so my gut was a mess regardless of what I ate. And I wasn't hungry, so it wasn't as much of a problem to try and find gluten free foods that don't also have dairy or eggs or nuts in them.
Anyway, Dr Mulhall had recommended that I start on a new steroid that was specifically for IBD called Uceris, but my new insurance won't pay for it, and it costs $50 per pill, so two weeks dosage would run around $1,600, which is just not affordable for a family living on one income like ours. However, when I went to see Dr M last, I had the flu and I was so ill that I could barely sit up, so he just threw a lot of things at me and then recommended that I go home, drink Nyquil and get some rest and wait until I was well to even attempt to try any new medications. Then, while I was recovering from the stomach flu and an upper respiratory infection that followed close on its heels, Dr M had a family emergency and his nurses said he would not be back for three months! And instead of leaving another gastro doc to take over his patients, he left us with a nurse practitioner.
After going to see the nurse practitioner, and expressing my deep loathing of all the side effects of steroids that I ALWAYS get when I take them, (including weight gain, which doesn't come off as easily as it did 30 years ago), she agreed that we should get started with the process of getting me on Remicade, which is where Dr M said that my "plane was eventually going to land." However, I've had to have blood tests to ensure that I don't have tuberculosis or Hepatitis B, the latter of which I was vaccinated against in 1995. Apparently, vaccines don't always last, though, so my blood showed no immunity to Hep B, and now I have to go in and get the three shots to vaccinate me, and since my bloodwork was inconclusive about TB, I have to have a chest x-ray tomorrow, too. Ugh.
But! I have hopes that I will, before the end of March, be infused with Remicade at St Elizabeth Hospital. Here's hoping that it works, and doesn't make me paralyzed, like it did my brother, or very allergic, as it did a friend of mine.
Meanwhile, I have been reading lots of size positive blogs lately, and this one came up today on Facebook, which I found fascinating. http://danceswithfat.wordpress.com/2014/03/03/sex-in-a-fat-body/
Also, this is about the kerfuffle with Target phasing out their Plus-Sized Clothing Dept (and do not get me started on Old Navy being sizest jerkwads when they opened a store in downtown Seattle, and I was turned away at the door because the clerk standing there took one look at me and said "There's nothing in here that will fit you. Move along.") http://jezebel.com/the-mysterious-disappearance-of-targets-plus-size-sect-1535188141?utm_content=buffer7e6a7&utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_campaign=buffer

Relief Is On It's Way in June

This past Monday, I called my latest gastroenterologist, lets call him Dr Chill, (because he is a cold fish and has no compassion at all) and let him know (or rather, his nurse/medical assistant know, because you never get to talk to the actual physician any more) that his sending me to an expensive gastro doctor at the UW Depart of Digestive Diseases (We'll call the UW gastro guy Dr Do-Nothing) only gained me a big bill and no treatment or help at all.

Dr Do Nothing had the gall to keep me waiting for 2 and a half hours after my appointment, and then breezing in, saying "sorry for the wait" as if it were nothing, and then telling me that I had 5 choices for dealing with my Crohns Disease, the first of which was to "Do nothing" as if I would waste all that time and money spent for parking, for the visit itself (I don't have insurance, so it is all out of pocket) and for the time my husband had to spend taking me down to the U District and sitting in the waiting room trying to do his job from his laptop for three hours. It just boggles the mind that Dr DN could be so condescending as to think that doing nothing was actually an option. After all, doing nothing is all that has been done for my Crohns for the last 5 months, and my disease has gotten progressively worse, to the point where my quality of life has gone down the toilet as rapidly as the contents of my colon. Being sick and in pain all the time doesn't allow you to do the things you need to get done everyday, and it hampers my ability to do even simple things, like grocery shop or go to the gym, or meet with friends for tea. My life diminishes to the 50 square feet that is the bathroom, where I watch the minutes and hours tick by when I should be sleeping, or making a meal for my family, or a dozen other things.

So initially Dr DN said that he still hadn't gotten my medical records from Virginia Mason and Dr Chill, though I'd been told that they were sent over 5 weeks before. So Dr DN glibly said that I might have to wait another 2-3 weeks for my medical records, specifically my EKGs, to come all the 2 miles across town from Virginia Mason Medical Center to the UW Dept DD. When I tried to explain that this was ridiculous, that they could FAX or email or even courier over the records, Dr DN said that I needed to call and light a fire under the VM people to get the files to him ASAP, so he could see if I would be able to be in a study of his for a new drug for Crohns. So I called VM, they sent over the information, and Dr DN wasted no time in pronouncing me unfit for any of his new drug studies, all because my heart has a slightly irregular beat sometimes, and otherwise beats slowly and is healthy, because I exercise and am not hypertensive at all, (no high blood pressure or blockages) despite my weight. So Dr DN threw me back to Dr Chill, saying that I was once again his problem, since the UW couldn't help me with any treatments or studies. Great. So now I am supposed to return to a Dr who has kept me off of medications for 5 months, not allowed me to take strong pain pills and watched me wash out of a VM study because of my heart, and then just lobbed me off to the waste of time at the UW, all while knowing that my Crohns has gotten worse and I've been in pain for months, while he does diddly squat to alleviate any of the symptoms? This is also a doctor who gave me the most painful colonoscopy I've ever had, and who has repeatedly told me that I need to move to Canada or the UK because I don't have health insurance here (no one will ensure me because of Crohns as a pre existing condition) and they have national health in Canada and the UK. Like it is just that easy to uproot your family and move to another country!
So I decided to go back to my previous gastro doc, we'll call him Dr GG, for Good Guy, because he was the only gastroenterologist I've had in the 13 years since my diagnosis who has actually cared about my health and treated my symptoms and managed my pain when in flare. Unfortunately, Dr GG is a part time physician who is only at VM Issaquah once a week, and he takes numerous vacations, so he wasn't able to see me until July 5! When I explained to the nurse/receptionist that this wasn't acceptable, and that I've gotten nothing from my 5 months with Dr Chill but bills and more bills and no treatment or relief from the symptoms of worsening Crohns, she said she would tell him about my plight and see what happens.

So in the past 48 hours, I've gotten three phone calls from Dr GG's office, where his nurse apologized for all I'd been through, and told me that Dr GG would like me to see a specialist gastro doc in Bellevue on June 7, so that I can hopefully get some relief before I go back to see Dr GG on July 5. Then she called today and said my appointment with Dr GG was moved up to June 28, so we're making progress on the relief front! Waiting three weeks is certainly better than waiting 8-12 weeks, so I am calling this a win for being the squeaky wheel that gets the appointment.

While I'm still far, far away from my goals of getting to a lighter weight, I feel like once I get my Crohns under control, I will be able to attempt an eating plan that makes sense for me, one where I can use my new juicer to get more nutrition from veggies and fruits that I can't eat raw or cooked without a flare. Keep your digits crossed for me, Upholstered Belly fans!

Recycling This Blog With a New Name and Focus

Hello Crohnies and overweight, fluffy or fat friendly friends everywhere!
I've decided that instead of leaving this blog fallow, I will repurpose it  as a blog about my struggles with Crohn's Disease, which I've had for over 13 years now, and my weight and sense of self acceptance.
Currently, I'm not taking anything but Azithioprine (and only a half-dose every other day) as treatment for my Crohns because my previous Dr, Doctor Lord at Virginia Mason, tried to get me into a Glaxo Smith Kline drug trial/study, but was unsuccessful because my heart is too healthy and I am not incapacitated by my weight.
So he's referred me, after 3 grueling months of blood tests, colonoscopies, EKGs and multiple visits to the Virginia Mason Hospital and Clinics located in downtown Seattle (which is really tough to drive in these days, because of traffic revisions and upgrades and other DOT insanity) to the University of Washington Department of Digestive Diseases and Dr Scott Lee, who is supposed to have a different drug trial that I can become a part of, hopefully.
Still, because I couldn't enter the GSK drug trial while on medication, I've been 4 months now without any substantive treatment for this painful gastroenterological disease. Which basically means I've been spending a lot of time in the bathroom for the past several months.
April has been a tough month in particular, because I haven't been without medication for this long in 13 years, so while the Crohns has spread down to my descending colon and my rectum, it hasn't been that painful since 3 years ago when I had an operation to remove a stricture from the juncture of my colon and small intestine. And the last time I was sick so often was when I was pumping breast milk for Nick after he was born and I kept having to run to the bathroom every time I used the hospital pump they sent home with me.
I honestly think I'd been having Irritable Bowel Disease symptoms for about two years prior, but I just hadn't found a doctor who knew how to diagnose IBD. From what I have heard and read, this is fairly common among the Crohns and Colitis community, and some people spend 5 or more years going from doctor to doctor trying to figure out why they are so sick with stomach/intestinal pain, diarrhea, bleeding and rectal fistulas and fissures (and hemorrhoids). I spent two or three months once in 1998 drinking some kind of stomach coating mixture because I couldn't swallow or eat anything more solid than babyfood and keep it down. Xrays revealed that my entire digestive tract, from my esophagus on down looked like it was wrapped in white cotton batting. I think that was my first true Crohn's flare.
Anyway, I'm still fighting to have a life in between running to the bathroom, and I've paid particular attention to doing the things I need to do for my husband and son, Nick. I also try to keep in contact with friends and relations via Facebook, and I try not to stress about things like the horrible terrorist bombings in Boston on April 15, last week. I try not to watch the news or read too many sad books, and I rely on my hopeful friends to keep me feeling like I can conquer anything, given enough time and determination.
I have been struggling to keep my exercise schedule, going to Thrive, a local gym (WIO closed down last June, which still makes me sad) at least 3-4 times a week. Now that there is a new Spin With Lynn class going, I try to ride the ridiculously uncomfortable stationary bikes Thrive provides, though recently my sore and aching rear end just would not cooperate, and I had to bow out of Sunday's spin class, much to my sorrow. Because Humira and Cimzia, both injectable biological drugs that I was on for Crohns, seemed to react in my body like a steroid (cortical, not anabolic), I gained back all the weight that I lost back in 2009, and now I am back to my heaviest, the weight that I was when I was pregnant with Nick and that I maintained after he was born via c-section. Then when I joined Work it Out in 2006, when Nick was 5 years old, I'd started to lose weight again and gain muscle tone and strength.
But I fight on, determined to not let my size or my IBD get the better of me, or keep me from being mobile and healthy as possible.
I hope that you will share my journey with me. You are welcome to sit down and have a nice cuppa tea and read.

Revitalizing in 2012

I had pretty much given up this past year on weight loss, though I continued to go to the WIO Gym 5 times a week and exercise for at least an hour, if not two.
Still, the side effects of the Humira I take (in a weekly shot) have been similar to steroids, in that I've been gaining weight by leaps and bounds, until I'm now back at the weight that I was prior to joining the gym in 2006.
But now my gastroenterologist has decreed that I am to lower my dosage of Humira from once a week to twice a month, and therefore, I gather he's hoping the side effects will lessen considerably, and that my Crohn's Disease won't kick up a fit as a result.
Meanwhile, this past year I've been taking a Zumba/Dance Fusion class from a delightful young woman named Melain Blue. I was recently guided to her blog,http://www.nurturingnarcissism.com/2008/03/abcs-of-melain.html and I found it tremendously inspiring, so I decided to borrow one of her posts and post my own responses. Seriously, who wouldn't be inspired by someone so gorgeous who is also smart, talented and loads of fun?

A - ADVOCATE FOR: I am an advocate for women's rights and the right to choose, as well as the right of larger women to not be bullied, blamed and passed over for work because of their size/weight. Prejudice sucks, in any form.

B - BEST FEATURE: Most people do not notice that my eyes are actually two different colors of golden brown. One is light gold with flecks of green and gray, and the other is darker brown with flecks of gold. I think they're pretty nice, but I have been told that my cupid's bow lips and big mammary glands are the real attraction for guys...at least that is what the guys I've dated tell me. I also had an 80 year old guy outside of La Fogata restaurant tell me once that I had a nice rump, but since I have never actually looked at it, I suppose I will have to take his word for it.

C - COULD DO WITHOUT: I could seriously do without my husbands drinking (especially since he's a diabetic and has high blood pressure, and doesn't take his medication for these ailments) and my ferocious roseacia coupled with a rash on my face that will not go away! Drives me crazy with itching! Hemorroids are also no fun, and having no insurance is just plain awful. Could we get some national health care this year, PLEASE?

D - DREAMS & DESIRES: Oh, there are so many! I want to travel to the UK, and stop in Wales to visit the set of Dr Who and Torchwood. I want to stop in Scotland to oogle the handsome Scottish men with their delicious accents, and I want to shop all the bookstores in London and nearby towns, as well as visit all their castles. I want to travel to Australia, again to see all the hot Aussie guys, I want to visit New Zealand, and Japan, where I could shop for all kinds of great pens and teas (I love tea). I have, since I was about 5 and started watching Star Trek, always wanted to go into outer space, and "touch the face of God." I love flying, and would adore a trip (or three) in a fighter jet, or a Harrier jet, or a Blackbird, or one of those bombers that look like a flying wing, or the space shuttle.And I want a 2010 Volkswagen Beetle in Moonlight Beige, hard top (you can't really use a convertible in this area because it rains too much) with automatic transmission and heated seats and low mileage. Oh, and I have always wanted to own my own bookstore with a tea shop inside, and I'd build a theater next door that had space for a World Wrapps, because I love them and I can only get them in Bellevue.

E - ESSENTIAL ITEMS: I collect books, purses and pens (the kind you write with) so I always find it necessary to have a new purse every 3 months, and I need to have dozens of pens with me to choose from in case of a writing emergency, along with a pad of paper for notes, and a paperback in case I am caught somewhere boring waiting for someone or if I am waiting for a flight at the airport. I also find that chewing ice is essential to my mental health, and eating something sweet at least once a day is important, too, whether its Bisco's Sugar Wafers (they are too expensive, though) or Mighty O Doughnut's delicious vegan (dairy and egg-free!) maple bars and regular doughnuts. Dark red lipstick and portable rump wipes are the other two things I carry with me all the time.

F - FAVORITE PASTIME: Reading books, writing in my journal (I've been keeping a journal since I was 12 years old), Facebook, keeping up with 2 of my 4 blogs, watching Glee, NCIS, Castle, Camelot, Merlin, Dr Who, Bones,Drop Dead Diva, Blue Bloods, Hawaii 5-O,White Collar, Covert Affairs, Burn Notice,Terra Nova, Body of Proof,Person of Interest, Parenthood and House. Exercising at Work It Out and chatting with my friends there, and yakking on the phone are my social pastimes, and I LOVE bargain hunting/shopping at thrift stores, garage sales, used bookstores and clearance racks at places like Fred Meyer or Kohls.

G - GOOD AT: I am a great and fast reader, I am a good writer/average reporter and I am really good at making friends, because I find most people fascinating...everyone has a story, and I would like to be the one to tell it. I am also pretty good at directing, acting and various other theater skills, and I enjoy historical legends and myths so I am fairly good at research. I am a good mom, a good wife and a good daughter. I discovered in 1994 that I am a fairly good stand up comediene, and there are things that I am good at that cannot be mentioned on a G-rated blog.

H - HAVE NEVER TRIED: rafting, bungee-jumping, para-sailing, hot air ballooning, martial arts, running a marathon, eating snails, shooting a crossbow, mud wrestling.

I - IF I HAD A MILLION DOLLARS: I would first need about 12 million dollars, but if I had that, I'd build a bookstore-tea shop/movie theater/World Wrapps shop in Maple Valley, I renovate my home (we really need new carpet, new windows, bathroom renovation and kitchen remodel...and I would like built-in bookshelves all over the house, plus a window seat to read in), I'd take my friends on a trip to the UK and Japan, I'd pay off all my bills, I'd buy a Volkswagen Beetle (see dreams and desires, above), I buy health insurance for myself and my family, and I'd go on a Seaborne Legend cruise to Legoland and Disneyland in California with my family, because my son has never been to either place and would love it.

J - JUNKIE FOR: Sweets, especially fruity sweets, such as danishes, or gummy cherries, and I LOVE Jelly Belly Buttered Popcorn jelly beans! Mighty O Doughnuts, cookies, etc. are also not safe within my reach.

K - KINDRED SPIRIT: My best friend Muff Larson, who died several years ago, was a kindred spirit, and my neighbor and friend Janine Ferrell, who is a genius artist is also a kindred artist, and the more I learn about Melain, the more kindred spirit she seems, as we like much of the same stuff. Also, my friend Jeff Morris, who owns a bookstore in St Pete Florida, my friends Roger and Nancy Page who own Island Books on Mercer Island, Bob Charles of Baker St Books in Black Diamond, and my friends and Librarians Ann and Sharon at the Maple Valley branch of KCLS.

L - LITTLE KNOWN FACT: I have a dual degree, which counts as two bachelor's degrees in Drama/Speech and in History and an MA in Writing. I also have certification as a Certified Nursing Assistant (120 hours) from Des Moines Area Community College, which I got when I was 16 and still in high school and bored out of my mind. I worked as a CNA to get myself through college, which was not easy. I hate Boston to this day because of my experiences in grad school. I also hate driving, and I refuse to drive outside of the Maple Valley/Covington area.

M - MEMORABLE MOMENT: There have been so many! When my son stuck his foot out of me while I was going to the bathroom 12 years ago after Thanksgiving (he was ready to be born, whether or not I was!), when I had to leave him in the NICU for two months, and they wouldn't allow me to see or hold him for the first 12 hours of his life (I nearly went crazy with this feeling that someone was cutting off a piece of my soul and telling me to leave it in the hands of strangers...I didn't think I could bear it for an hour, let alone 2 months) the moment when Jim said "You bet I do!" at our wedding and I realized I was doing something irrevocable in front of God and my parents, when I watched all the fighter jets take off for the "turkey shoot" with the Miramar, California fighter pilots in 1987, and I could feel the tarmac vibrate throughout my body during a glorious sunrise, when I won "Woman of the Year" from Women at Large, an exercise salon run by larger women instructors for big gals, and I'd lost 100 pounds in one year, when I won a first place award from the Society of Professional Journalists for my article on a Mercer Island psychiatrist who raises rats with her daughters in her spare time, and a first place award from the WNPA for a column I wrote about what I'd ask Paul Allen if he'd let me interview him (and I got a mysterious email after it ran saying "Very funny, DeAnn. signed, P").

N - NEVER AGAIN WILL I: attempt to live in a big city on the East Coast. I am just not a city person, I work better in a small community like the ones I grew up with in Iowa.I will also never attend another event at the Moore Theater (the seats are awful and too expensive) and I will never attend an event with Neil Gaiman and his new wife, Amanda Palmer. It was, as my husband pointed out, like "An overly long church service from HELL"

O - OCCASIONAL INDULGENCE: Every now and then, I treat myself to an afternoon at the thrift store or the book store, alone. At least once a year, I like to take a box of books to Powells City of Books in Portland, Oregon, and while my husband and son go swimming in the hotel pool, I get some credit for my books and allow myself to leisurely browse the stacks in room after room, finding gems and good conversation with fellow book lovers in nearly every aisle. Then I stop at Whole Foods next door for a soy ice cream treat...it's heavenly. Oh, and once a year, I insist on going to a cheap hair salon (I can't afford the nice ones) for a professional hair cut.

P - PROFESSION: I am a freelance writer/reporter/editor who has been writing for websites, newspapers, magazines and newsletters for the past 26 years. I've also worked as a lifestyle magazine editor, a proofreader in a type house (something that no longer exists), a front desk/desktop publishing person for a local non profit and a certified nursing assistant (CNA) in hospitals, nursing homes and hospice. I also worked once, briefly, as a clerk in a Queen Sized Clothing Boutique in downtown Seattle. I discovered that I am good with people but bad with a cash register. I also portrayed Rosie the Riveter at the Museum of Flight for a year in the Personal Courage Wing on the World War II floor.

Q - QUOTE: "An emerald is as green as grass, a ruby red as blood. A sapphire shines as blue as heaven. A flint lies in the mud. A diamond is a brilliant stone, to catch the world's desire. An opal holds a fiery spark, but a flint holds fire." Christina Georgina Rossetti making sure the world knows to not judge a book by it's cover.

R - REASON TO SMILE: Dr Who, who speaks "baby" said that the baby who told him his name was "Stormageddon, Lord of Everything" wanted his flustered daddy to wear a papoose to hold him because "You don't come fast enough when he summons you." He also complained to the Doctor that "not-mom" has no mammary glands, and that he calls all males "not-mom" and "peasants." LOL! I love babies...they're so wonderful to hold, and sniff and cuddle.

S - SORRY ABOUT: my Crohns flares that can just derail my entire day or week, depending on severity, and the fact that journalism is becoming a dying art...there are just fewer and fewer jobs for regular reporters and more people seeking them. And now that I am an old, fat woman, my prospects for employment seem to decrease every month. So I can't bring home the bacon and still raise my son and keep house anymore. Sorry I've had to hang up my superwoman cape.

T - TELL A SECRET: I have/had a crush on Steve Jobs, Sting, Alex O'Laughlin, Gerard Butler, and when I was a kid, I had a crush on David Cassidy, Captain Kirk, Donny Osmond and the Professor from Gilligans Island.

U - UNINTERESTED IN: politics, math, ignorant, prejudiced people, radio/TV talk shows, reality TV shows, tanning, opera

V - VERY SCARED OF: death, the obliteration of self. I am also not a fan of pain.

W - WORST HABIT: I chew my nails, I chew ice (and break my teeth) and I twist my hair.

X - X MARKS MY IDEAL VACATION SPOT: I would imagine the coast of Ireland or Scotland or England...or the coast of Oregon...someplace not too hot, but still near the ocean, with handsome men and good bookstores.

Y - YUMMIEST DESSERT: I once had a creme brulee tapioca pudding that was heavenly...I also once had a tofu cheesecake that made me weep with longing for more.

Z - ZODIAC SIGN: My sun sign is Sagittarius, my rising sign is Leo and my moon sign is Libra. I am a happy go lucky gal who loves the stage and beauty.

Nancy Upton, the smaller side of "Plus Size"

I think that what Nancy Upton is doing to speak out about how larger or plus size women are viewed is a great thing, but I need to point out that at a size 12, Upton is the size I was at my smallest, most 'regular' weight. So it is rather hard for me to see her as a champion of plus size women when she's just a bit curvy, but otherwise 'normal' looking and can wear regular clothing and not have to shop at Lane Bryant or Fashion Bug or 16 Plus or Catherines because those are the only places to buy, for example a sports bra (and I could only find my size, 3X, at the Auburn Fashion Bug recently because the Lane Bryant clerks all said that Lane Bryant doesn't believe larger women work out enough to warrant them having a full line of sports bras in larger than 'normal' sizes 'around', not in cup). Anyway, here's the link to the article and most of the article below, with another link to Upton's website, wherein lie her photos, which are pretty funny, I think.

http://dfw.cbslocal.com/2011/10/10/dallas-woman-launches-social-commentary-at-american-apparel-wins-contest/

DALLAS (CBSDFW.COM) – When American Apparel launched a campaign looking for plus-sized models, it ran a contest called ‘The Next Big Thing.’

Dallas resident Nancy Upton saw that and she was put off by its pitch. But instead of complaining, she entered the contest, playing on the stereotypes as a joke.

“How do they really picture us?” she asked. “Do they picture us sitting around all day being lazy and eating fried chicken?”

The ad said it was “calling for curvy ladies everywhere!”

“You know, ‘bootyful’ or ‘curvalicious,’ as opposed to calling us sexy, or attractive, or beautiful,” Upton said. “No plus sized woman in her right mind would have written that.”

So Upton, who has never modeled before, enlisted the talent of her friend Shannon Skloss to shoot the photographs she had in mind.

“She was like, ‘hey, you want to do it?’ I was like, ‘yeah, sure, let’s go for it. I completely stand behind you,” Skloss said. “We made a list of what order to do them in, from cleanest to messiest so that way we could just go into each one right away.”

The end result? Outrageous pictures featuring Upton lying naked, face down upon a dinner table, or bathing in a bathtub filled with ranch dressing. Another, she’s sitting in the kitchen covered in chocolate syrup. Another has Upton swimming in a pool, chicken wing firmly in hand.

“I definitely wanted there to be an element of satire and kind of an underlying statement about, like, perceptions of beauty in America; perceptions of overweight people and body awareness,” Upton said.

After American Apparel posted the photos online, Upton ended up taking the top spot in the contest. She would end up winning – the popular vote. The company wasn’t too happy with the outcome.

Upton said they sent her a letter saying, “It’s a shame that your project attempts to discredit the positive intentions of our challenge … and that booty-licious was too much for you to handle.”

The company chose 10 other women to represent its brand. And Upton said she’s OK with that decision.

“I stated pretty blatantly on my blog that if I was asked, I would say no, because I feel if you are going to be the face or the body or the voice of the company, you really should agree with as much as the company’s history as you can find out about, as much as their manufacturing and marketing philosophies and those kinds of things,” Upton said. “I don’t think we would click that way.

But not everyone was OK with American Apparel’s decision, and folks complained. As a way of making amends, the company flew Upton and Skloss out for a tour of its Los Angeles factory.

They’re now back in Dallas, exploring numerous opportunities that have come their way as a result of the pictures.

They’re already working on a book.

http://extrawiggleroom.tumblr.com/post/9836643886

Finished at Fifty?

Let me first state that I am not normally a quitter. I have, throughout my life, seen things through to the often bitter end. Sometimes that has been a good thing, and sometimes it has just taken a huge toll that was far worse than quitting would have been.

But I've been doing some thinking lately about how fat and old and STRESSED I've become, and how many things I've failed at, including keeping to a 'normal' weight, and it just seems like I have been struggling against Sisyphean odds for far too long...since I was 5 and was put on cortisone for asthma and my weight bloomed as a result, to be exact.

Now that I am suffering the consequences, also called 'side effects' of Humira that seem very like the side effects of cortisone, I feel like Paris during WW2, outnumbered, outgunned and looking at an indefinite occupation of enemy forces.

In other words, the joint pain and stiffness, the headaches, the weight gain, the fatigue and irritability and the rosecia have taken over, and I am surrendering my body because I don't have the energy to do battle against them, or the knowledge of how to mitigate them, at the very least. If I stop taking the Humira, my guts swell up and I can't go to the bathroom for weeks at a time, though I have cramps and bloating and pain, which is a miserable state to be in. But I still can't eat raw veggies (and some I can't even eat cooked, like broccoli and cauliflower) fruits with seeds, nuts, dairy or eggs, onions (including shallots, leeks and chives) garlic, meats with nitrates, peas, pole beans, or whole grains like whole wheat and oatmeal, which sends my colon into complete shut down.

So all that advice from Dr Oz and the bazillion books on diets and weight loss don't hold much hope for me. Nor can I use one of the pre-made meal diets that are so popular, (Jenny Craig, Nutra System, Weight Watchers) though I wouldn't be able to afford them anyway. All of them, from what I have seen, have dairy, eggs, nuts and onions in nearly every dish, not to mention the artificial sweeteners they put in the snacks, which give regular people diarrhea, let alone someone with a touchy colon!
Add to that the frustration of hardly being able to move in exercise class many times,because I ache all over and feel so stiff and tired, and the stress of not having enough freelance work to make a living (like most journalists, I am watching my career swirl down the drain in favor of online news sites, which are using more free content and blog posts than legitimate articles written by experienced,skilled journalists) and you have more days when I don't even want to get out of bed than days when I feel I can overcome any of this. I ask myself "Why bother?" and 9 times out of ten, I have no good answer.
I love my son, and of course want to stay alive long enough to see him get into college and started on making a life for himself, but I figure his father will die long before I do, because he isn't caring for his diabetes and drinks to excess, so if statistics are anything to go by, he will not make it to 60, and I will have to try and raise the boy the rest of the way through high school. I have no idea how we will survive without our main income, but I will have to think of something when the time comes.
Meanwhile, I think I will just kick back and try to stay alive in these rough times. Wish me luck.
Here's a funny bit about a product that I could use, as I spend a lot of time in the bathroom with Crohns troubles, and this would make it a bit 'sweeter' in there:

Via Unbridled Books: Positing that the place where people read the most
is the bathroom, the bookstore chain 100,000 Books, in Yekaterinburg,
Russia, "came up" with this very clever product: Book Fresheners
http://www.shelf-awareness.com/ct/uz3642037Biz11278504.
The launch was part of an ad campaign
http://www.shelf-awareness.com/ct/uz3642037Biz11278505

Horrifying News from South Dakota

I don't normally share my views on hot button topics like abortion (I'm very pro-choice) on my blogs, but as a woman who has been raped and knows what it is like to fear for her life in case of unplanned pregnancy, I just couldn't let this horror go by without comment or post. This is from the ACLU's Blog of Rights:

We'll See You in Court: South Dakota's Governor Signs Outrageous Law Restricting Abortion Care

Today, South Dakota's governor, Dennis Daugaard, signed a bill that creates unprecedented restrictions on access to abortion care. As we've blogged before, this law requires women to wait 72 hours between the first counseling session with the doctor and the abortion; it also requires women to first visit "crisis pregnancy centers," entities that are notorious for providing false and misleading information; and requires doctors to tell the woman of any possible risk factor published in medical and psychological journals since 1972. These new restrictions are on top of the long list of abortion restrictions in South Dakota, and come from a state that has one abortion provider.

If the law were to take effect, the consequences for women in South Dakota would be devastating. Given that Planned Parenthood is the only abortion provider in South Dakota, and they are in Sioux Falls, some women already must travel great distances to see a physician. But under the law, they would have to make to make two trips: one to visit with the doctor in person, and then another 72 hours later for the abortion. In the meantime, they must visit a crisis pregnancy center, which, under the law's requirements, must be anti-choice.

At the crisis pregnancy center, the woman must tell the staff her private reasons for having the abortion and give the name of her doctor. These intrusions into women's private lives are outrageous, and they also put physicians at risk for violence and harassment.

And just in case the law was not cruel enough, there is no exception for women who have been raped, who are survivors of incest, or have a wanted pregnancy that is doomed.

So we're headed to court. We won't stand for this blatant mistreatment of women and blatantly unconstitutional law. We'll join Planned Parenthood in court to stop the law in its tracks so no woman is faced with these burdensome, humiliating requirements.

I sincerely hope that Governor Daugaard gets his arse whupped in court, because the women of his state deserve much better treatment than this. They deserve access to clean and safe reproductive health care, and not back alley abortions or access to only those horrible 'crisis' pregnancy centers that offer no solutions at all to a woman in distress with unplanned and unwanted pregnancy.

The St Patrick's Day Greenish Blues

So I was wandering through a poetry list made by some Lit professor who hates all the classic poets I adore (like Carl Sandburg and Pablo Neruda), when I came across this poem by TS Elliot, who is, apparently, still in favor in the academic community.
Anyway, it occurred to me that what he's saying here could easily be changed to be about Crohns Disease. So forgive me, Thomas Sterns Elliot, if I replace the word "river" with the word "colon" and contemplate the 'strong brown god' that is my troubled digestive system.

(The Dry Salvages—presumably les trois sauvages—is a small
group of rocks, with a beacon, off the N.E. coast of Cape Ann,
Massachusetts. Salvages is pronounced to rhyme with assuages.
Groaner: a whistling buoy.)



The Dry Salvages

I do not know much about gods; but I think that the COLON
Is a strong brown god—sullen, untamed and intractable,
Patient to some degree, at first recognised as a frontier;
Useful, untrustworthy, as a conveyor of commerce;
Then only a problem confronting the builder of bridges.
The problem once solved, the brown god is almost forgotten
By the dwellers in cities—ever, however, implacable.
Keeping his seasons and rages, destroyer, reminder
Of what men choose to forget. Unhonoured, unpropitiated
By worshippers of the machine, but waiting, watching and waiting



Anyway, I've been on Humira for 8 months now, and have gained 45 pounds back in that amount of time, as well as gaining headaches every Monday and Tuesday, joint pain in my shoulders and elbows and back, plus a pica-like tendency to need to chew ice 24/7, probably due to anemia and vitamin D deficiency. So while I am taking some iron tablets and vitamin D supplements, I still have painful flares and trouble going to the bathroom at least once a week, which is still too much. I am still also going to the WIO gym 5 times a week, and I've gotten Jim signed up at the MVF gym, so that's a step in the right direction, but it's still depressing that I seem to be gaining weight without changing my diet that much. But, since I have no insurance, I can't go back to see my gastro doc, so I am going to have to just deal with where I am now and try to accept myself as I am at the moment.

Happy Thanksgiving, Belly

Today is the day my belly gets happy and stays happy all day long!
But first, here's a telling little blurb about Sagittarians like myself and my son, Nick, who turns 11 on Saturday, November 27.

"Sagittarians excel at skipping past details so they can keep the big picture in mind -- this helps them take the long view and develop a philosophical approach to life. As the Sun travels though this future-oriented Fire sign, get ready to take a good look at the road ahead. Where do you want to go? Is there something that would spark your enthusiasm and give your life greater meaning? Whether you're making short- or long-term plans, leave your old ideas behind so you can create room for new ones. You may be surprised by what you discover!

Finally, happy birthday to all you Sagittarians! Your enthusiastic outlook inspires the rest of us to reach higher and take risks!"
From IVillage Astrology.

So I'm nearly back to where I was when I started at Work It Out, in terms of weight, but I've got more muscle mass than I've had before, and I am stronger and able to do things that I wasn't able to do before, like take long walks and get up a flight or two of stairs without breaking a sweat. I also have more energy and endurance than I would have if I didn't exercise 5 days a week. I've appreciated that more than ever this week, when snow and ice closed down my favorite gym all week and I wasn't able to hang with my homegirls on the spin bikes or in balls and weights class. I really miss Carol and Janice and Suzanne and Lynn and all the other instructors and workout pals I've befriended. They are such wonderful, caring and compassionate people. They make my life better every time I step foot in the gym. So on Thanksgiving day, I can honestly say I am ever so thankful for Work It Out Womens Fitness--You ladies ROCK!

Great Idea from Dan Savage

Having been subjected to bullying during my entire junior high and high school career, (for being fat and smart, not for being gay) I can empathize with the teens who are constantly being bullied, threatened and humiliated.
That is why I am delighted Dan Savage has created this project (from Shelf Awareness):

The It Gets Better Project
http://news.shelf-awareness.com/ct.jsp?uz3642037Biz10148639, a
viral video campaign intended to speak directly to gay youths who are
subjected to bullying and homophobia, will be adapted as a book and
published by Dutton. The New York Times
http://news.shelf-awareness.com/ct.jsp?uz3642037Biz10148640
reported that the book, a "collection of essays from celebrities and
ordinary people who want to share their stories," is scheduled for
publication next March. Dan Savage, who started the project, said he
will contribute proceeds from the book to organizations supporting gay
youth.

Go Dan!

Freezing Fall

Brrr! We are midway through September and already it is really cold outside, and of course, rainy and overcast...it wouldn't be the Seattle area without drizzle, mist and sleet.
We only had about 2.5 weeks of summer this year, which was fine with me but left a lot of sun worshippers and Vitamin D seekers upset. I am not a fan of heat, but I don't mind a bit of sun every now and then. My husband, who was born on an Air Force base in Ankara, Turkey (a very hot place) and raised in St Petersburg, Florida, (another very hot place) hates the sun, loathes sweating and hot weather and would rather sleep in a bedroom with icicles hanging from the ceiling than be in a temperate climate. Like most middle-aged men, he has a beer gut and a tendancy to give off the same amount of heat as the pot-bellied stove he resembles. So from his perspective, I gather it is a matter of not overheating that has him sleeping with the doors from the bedroom to the deck wide open every night, even in winter. Never mind that the squirrels and bluejays consider the bedroom their second home.

WIO is on fall schedule now, and unfortunately, there isn't an aerobics class every night of the week, so I'm having to get creative and find ways to take some morning classes so that I can get at least 5 days of exercise in. There is a new Tai Chi class that I find interesting to watch but not at all attractive to attend, because there is no heart-rate-hiking, fat-burning movement to the class at all...it's more like a standing, slow version of yoga, which I can't do and don't enjoy. So last night I just went in and ran on the elliptical machine for 40 minutes, then used the weight machines to get in some muscle building time. Now today I am trying to figure out how I can attend my son's curiculum night and still make it to spin class at 6:30pm. What I am hoping is that if I start walking there at 5:30 that I can get to the school in time to have a quick chat with Mr Finch, my sons teacher, and then run up to WIO before class begins. Usually when I make plans like that, we have a deluge of rain,(I hate walking in the rain)or something else comes up that prevents me from achieving my plan, but we shall see for this evening.

In other gut news, I've been on Humira for 11 weeks now, taking the 40 milligram shots on Wednesday each week, and suffering a headache-filled Tuesday when I can barely go to the bathroom and I have tremendous lower left side back pain. After taking my shot yesterday, I spent a lot of time in the bathroom going, and going, and going again, and feeling both relief and fatigue. Still, it was a hectic day and I had to grocery shop, do a lot of emailing, run errands and find the time to pick up Nick after school and get to WIO. So by 10 pm, I was exhausted.
I'm trying not to beat myself up about the weight I've gained since my colon operation last summer (to remove a stricture due to Crohn's Disease), because I knew that with a post-op regimen of cortisone, even a short course, comes 25-30 pounds. But because I exercise and don't eat junk food (though I do eat sugar on my cereal and in my tea), I feel like I am not in bad health, considering the asthma, allergies and Crohns situation. I feel like there's a sturdy frame with muscle under the pudge on my upholstered belly. I'm built like my dearly beloved grandma Semler, who was sturdy, stout and a cancer survivor who never let her size dictate what she could or could not do. Dr Oz has recommended that people who want to lose 10 pounds can stop eating after 8 pm, and get enough sleep, eschew caffiene, eat more veggies and exercise, and I figure those are all things I can do, whether or not they help me lose weight.

Meanwhile, my friend Adrian, who is a whiz with Apple computers (Macs), sent me this link on the healthful, allergy-reducing benefits of yogurt: http://www.realage.com/tips/choose-this-creamy-breakfast-be-sneeze-free?kw=ist

I had to tell him that all dairy products make me ill because I am not just allergic to milk sugars, I am allergic to bacteria in milk products, like yogurt and cheese, that require cultures to become what they are. I am allergic to mold, fungus and bacteria that change foods. So mushrooms are out, as is yogurt, cheese, miso, wine and many kinds of salami (I also can't tolerate nitrates and MSG, so there are a number of lunchmeats that make my joints hurt and swell up like I have arthritis). Add to that list of food allergies eggs, strawberries, honey, green beans, mangoes and nuts and you'd think I would be skinny from not having anything to eat that doesn't endanger my health.
There's still plenty of meats, shellfish, salmon, non-whole-grain breads, fruits, veggies and soy products that I can eat, though, and sugar also doesn't bother me, so I manage to eat a lot of tasty food and remain large, unfortunately. Portion control has always been a problem for me, but it is something that I am mindful of, so I try and work on it every day.

WIO on Summer Schedule

Work It Out Women's Fitness is on the summer schedule now, so classes have thinned out a bit as the days grow sunny and warm, and people spend more time outdoors.

I am still going to the gym 6 times a week, though I can't do as many double classes as I used to.
However, now that our car has broken down again, I am having to walk to WIO and to the grocery store more often, which allows me more exercise to make up for the classes I am missing.

In other work out news, Aggie, a dear gal whom I've really come to enjoy getting to know, is taking over the salsa class from Carolina, who is moving to Virginia on the East Coast in August. Carolina has been such a delightful teacher, her good humor and kindness were always appreciated as I bumbled and stumbled my way through the steps necessary to complete her class. She always tried to find time to do Passo Doble bullfighting dance steps at the end of class because she knew I liked them (they were more straightforward and easier to learn than many of the other steps). She always smelled of gardenias when she sweated in class, and was always a good instructor who had endless patience with her uncoordinated students. She will be missed.

I've been without Pentasa (due to Shire pharmaceuticals not allowing those with Crohns to have the medication because of a ridiculous FDA regulation that says it is not approved for the treatment of Crohns, never mind that millions have been on Pentasa for years for that very disease) for over a week now, and because I've been having flares, I've been sleeping with my heating pad against my belly to help sooth the cramps and pain. Apparently, the pain medications I also have to take for the cramps dulled my pain receptors enough that when I woke up Friday morning I had blisters on my belly from the heating pad, and the burns hadn't even woken me up!

Billie is teaching balls and weights and kickboxing and she subbed for salsa last night, which was loads of fun. Billie has the ability to be a great aerobics and strength training teacher while still infusing her classes with fun and a playful, joyous attitude. Her classes are non-stop movement and I always learn something new from Billie, who is very knowledgable about fitness. She is working hard teaching, being a mom and going to UW to get her masters degree in occupational therapy. I admire her stamina!

Rochelle is still teaching a couple of classes, and is due to have her baby in a few short weeks! I can't wait to see that adorable bundle of joy! Is there anything better than the smell of a brand new baby's head? I don't think so!

Suzanne is teaching Pilates and balls and weights, I think, and she's also a great joy to learn from. Suzanne is just so lovely, kind and compassionate, I feel as if her Pilates classes have a zen-like element to them, so you come away not only having worked your core, you've calmed and centered your spirit, giving your 'inner core' strength for the road ahead. She's also a very upbeat, uplifting person who doesn't believe in the word "can't." When you're on your 15th rep with a weight that you feel like you're going to drop on your head, Suzanne is always there to say "Yes, you can do 5 more!"
Connie is on vacation in the midwest, but she's been teaching a rockin' kickboxing class that has been moved to 8:30 am on Thursdays, and therefore hasn't been accessible to me. I was taking her Friday morning 9:30 kickboxing, but now there's a balls and weights on Fridays instead.

Janice and Carol are in the midst of boot camp season, so unfortunately I don't get to see their beautiful faces as often as I'd like. They've been doing a lot of one-on-one personal training as well, and it is so inspiring to watch the women they train transform their bodies from overweight and weary to svelte and energized! Janice's figure and fitness training also continues, and I really admire the dedication of all the women on her team. They work out for 15-20 hours a week and eat a very strict diet, and they look fabulous!

Also coming up is the WIO Triathalon on July 24th at Lake Wilderness Park in Maple Valley. I volunteer every year, and I always have a blast helping the athletes get from one aspect of the triathalon to the other--they always amaze and inspire me! The kids triathalon is super fun to watch, as these little tykes just give it their all. Though I have to get up at 5 am on that Saturday, it is always worth it to see friends from WIO challenge themselves to make it through.
Someday, when I am not quite so upholstered in the belly, I think I will give the triathalon a try, just to see if I can make it across Lake Wilderness without getting bitten by leeches or having a cardiac. At the end of this year, I will have been working out at WIO for 4 years! Thank you, Carol and Janice and the rest of the great staff at WIO for all the help and inspiration they've shown me over the years--you all make my life worth living.