I have good news and bad news.
Good News: I've lost weight since the bridesmaid dress fittings.
Bad News: ...I've lost weight since the bridesmaid dress fittings...
My dress is pathetically large on me, and I wasn't even wearing the girdle I defied natural law and quantum physics to get into.
And its not looking to good in terms of bulking back up before the wedding, I am more stressed than I have ever been in my life.
I can't eat and I can't sleep. I'm almost constantly nautious and when I try to sleep at night my mind wakes me up about the most stupid things.
Yesterday was the Belmont Stakes horse race and I was really hoping whatshisface the guy who won the other two and has a son with Usher's disease would win. I don't even know his name, thats how unimportant it really is to me. But yet last night I woke up twice after dreaming about it.
I'm almost to the point that I'm ready to leave everything behind and show up to Egypt just myself and the clothes on my back. What? Luggage? No thanks.
Yesterday was the rehearsal dinner, don't ask me why it was a week before it just was, and it took place at Brunswick Bowl in Blaine. Now, it was great because afterwards we all went bowling and I found that Wii bowling has really improved my game. I'm not even kidding. But I also got food poisoning from the horrific stuff they passed off as food there. I haven't been able to keep anything down for almost 24 hours. I'm currently sipping campbell's chicken noodle and succeeding in keeping it confined to my stomach.
Small victories.
But I've got to figure out how to get my dress taken in one week before the wedding because stress+food poisoning ≠ filling out dresses one size too large.
As soon as I have the energy I'm going to upload a pic of the wicked awesome bag that mi habibtita Gulnari made for me.
{pic to be inserted later}
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Today
Today is a bad day. I don't want to go anywhere, I don't want to do anything. I don't want to be here working, I don't want to help people, I don't want to read, or write, or think.
I think I've hit my wall. The wall against all the stress, the loneliness, the worries, the planning, the goals, the expectations, and the world entirely.
I just want to walk, and walk, and walk, and find somewhere to get lost.
Today is definitely a bad day.
I think I've hit my wall. The wall against all the stress, the loneliness, the worries, the planning, the goals, the expectations, and the world entirely.
I just want to walk, and walk, and walk, and find somewhere to get lost.
Today is definitely a bad day.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Misery Loves Company
I've had a migraine since yesterday and I can't seem to think my way through it.
Hopefully I can shake it before tomorrow so we don't miss Random Wednesday.
I know how sad you'd be.
If only someone would hit me with a hammer right between the eyes, somehow I think that would make me feel better.
Volounteers?
Hopefully I can shake it before tomorrow so we don't miss Random Wednesday.
I know how sad you'd be.
If only someone would hit me with a hammer right between the eyes, somehow I think that would make me feel better.
Volounteers?
Friday, April 11, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Too Many Phone Calls and a Lack Thereof
I think its interesting that within a week of posting about my many father-figures I have had two very significant things occur.
The first was at a party for my two cousins (sisters) who are having a double-wedding this summer. I happen to be the MOH of one so I, of course, was there. As was my grandmother: the long-suffering parental unit of, and bail-source for, my father. She asked me if I have spoken lately with my old man and I admitted that I hadn't spoken to him in about a month, to which she stated that she wasn't going to call him again until he called and apologized.
err?
It appears my dad has stopped paying his bills and the creditors are hounding my poor defenseless, and decrepit, old grandparents as my father doesn't like to update his address and their's is his last-known residence.
This is generally a big fat signal that my dad is using again. Joy. Apparently when my grandmother called to scold him into paying his bills he hung up her.
I'm assuming that if I try to call his cell phone it will be turned off, and because I haven't spoken to him in so long I have no idea if he has lost his job.
I don't want to call him because I feel that if he needed to speak with me, or wanted to for that matter, he knows my number.
Then again if he sold his phone for crack money, he wouldn't have it written down.
And... I wouldn't be able to get a hold of him either.
My only anxiety out of this situation is the possibility that he has overdosed, or been evicted, or committed suicide. Being mildly reclusive means that not many people would knock on his door to see if he's ok, and if his dealer looked for him and found him dead there's a slim chance that it would be reported to the police.
These are the things that float around in my mind, occasionally bumping into the rebellious I-won't-call-until-he-does thoughts.
I think I must drive over there after work.
And secondly I got a call from my Padrino (godfather) last night. The one I haven't spoken to in roughly a year. The family that doesn't ever call me to ask how I am, or to let me know they're going to Mexico... or coming back from Mexico... or anything.
And what did he call me for?
Money. Apparently the family business took a nosedive and they're hurting financially.
I just feel so dumped on. Please, ask me how I am from time to time, or make sure that MY life is going ok. Don't call me only for money and think that feeble attempts to find out about my life are going to change the fact that I left numerous un-returned phone calls a year ago and never heard anything since.
And what hurt my heart the most was the shame I heard in the voice of what I know is a very proud man.
But out of all of this at least I have a walee (Islamic guardian) who demands that I come over to his house at least once a week so that they can feed me because I apparently am too skinny.
And I have a husband who loves me more than the world.
Alhumdulillah for everything.
The first was at a party for my two cousins (sisters) who are having a double-wedding this summer. I happen to be the MOH of one so I, of course, was there. As was my grandmother: the long-suffering parental unit of, and bail-source for, my father. She asked me if I have spoken lately with my old man and I admitted that I hadn't spoken to him in about a month, to which she stated that she wasn't going to call him again until he called and apologized.
err?
It appears my dad has stopped paying his bills and the creditors are hounding my poor defenseless, and decrepit, old grandparents as my father doesn't like to update his address and their's is his last-known residence.
This is generally a big fat signal that my dad is using again. Joy. Apparently when my grandmother called to scold him into paying his bills he hung up her.
I'm assuming that if I try to call his cell phone it will be turned off, and because I haven't spoken to him in so long I have no idea if he has lost his job.
I don't want to call him because I feel that if he needed to speak with me, or wanted to for that matter, he knows my number.
Then again if he sold his phone for crack money, he wouldn't have it written down.
And... I wouldn't be able to get a hold of him either.
My only anxiety out of this situation is the possibility that he has overdosed, or been evicted, or committed suicide. Being mildly reclusive means that not many people would knock on his door to see if he's ok, and if his dealer looked for him and found him dead there's a slim chance that it would be reported to the police.
These are the things that float around in my mind, occasionally bumping into the rebellious I-won't-call-until-he-does thoughts.
I think I must drive over there after work.
And secondly I got a call from my Padrino (godfather) last night. The one I haven't spoken to in roughly a year. The family that doesn't ever call me to ask how I am, or to let me know they're going to Mexico... or coming back from Mexico... or anything.
And what did he call me for?
Money. Apparently the family business took a nosedive and they're hurting financially.
I just feel so dumped on. Please, ask me how I am from time to time, or make sure that MY life is going ok. Don't call me only for money and think that feeble attempts to find out about my life are going to change the fact that I left numerous un-returned phone calls a year ago and never heard anything since.
And what hurt my heart the most was the shame I heard in the voice of what I know is a very proud man.
But out of all of this at least I have a walee (Islamic guardian) who demands that I come over to his house at least once a week so that they can feed me because I apparently am too skinny.
And I have a husband who loves me more than the world.
Alhumdulillah for everything.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Who-Wha? The life of a new day in new shoes.
So I have what is colloquially termed as 'the crud' which consists of random aches, pains, nausea, and other icky-no-good things but which cannot actually be attributed to an AMA-recognized disease. Mine also came conveniently packaged with sores on the back of my throat which spawned overnight while I was sleeping. I don't recall eating barbed-wire last night for dinner, but apparently I did because my gullet feels like a battlefield. I decided to slap my two fifteens together and go curl up on a couch somewhere secluded in the massive patient waiting room. And evidently its normal in some people's world to approach unknown women curled into armadillo-like balls and strike up a conversation.
Strange/Creepy Man: So, how are you? (a la Joey Tribbiani + x5 creep factor)
Me: *sitting up immediately and searching for my shoes* Oh, just fine.
Creepy McCreepster: Oh no, you don't have to leave.
Me: *with a shudder and a new world record for putting on shoes* Well, I should be getting back.
C McC: So, are you waiting for a doctor?
Me: *getting up to leave* No, as unprofessional as this sounds I actually work here.
I instead pestered a CA and commandeered an unused consult room that I could securely lock with a couch upon which I sprawled haphazardly like a dying walrus and proceeded to snore away my break. Much better and more comfortable than having to demurely roll myself into a ball in a public place. Thank you, Creepy McC.
I emerged from this cave looking bleary and tousled, much like a receptionist who just had a quick amorous scuffle with the mailroom clerk- without the clerk or the amorous scuffle.
I was generously offered the afternoon off- I wonder if this is more because my coworkers want to fumigate my station rather than actual altruism- but I decided that spending the next few hours fighting with my stomach about unloading the mashed potatoes I was able to choke down for lunch would go better if I was paid for them.
Call me capitolistic.
And just to make my day so much more enjoyable I am walking around in new shoes which haven't been stretched to fit my feet giving me cramped toes and blistered heels. Payless was having a BOGO sale and it prompted me to finally retire my favorite red and black shoes (which have long ago seen their best days.)
(rockstar shoes)
These shoes have been loyal to me for five years, crossing many borders and seeing many sights. They've taken me to three continents and carried me through many airports. They were also the worst shoes I could wear out of my arsenal because with their platform soles and my curved feet I constantly rolled my ankles at random moments to the point that my husband actually looked at me and asked, "are you sure there's not something wrong with you?"
But I digress, these shoes have been the object of much envy and admiration through the years, and I will miss them.
And with the BOGO sale I am now the proud owner of a sophisticated pair of heeled mules and these devilish(ly cute) mary-janes which are causing me so much suffering today.
(the SOH shoes)
(and by SOH I mean Spawn of Hell which I lovingly named them on the long hike back to the parking ramp.)
I knew they were going to be trouble-makers and stood for a good 5 minutes this morning deciding which shoes to wear today. However since the mules looked positively preposterous with my wicked-awesome flagrantly-colored toe socks, I opted for the mary-janes. It usually hurts to look this cute.
So farewell to the marvelous red and black shoes I long ago named Mickey.
It was a good five years.
Can I go home and sleep now?
Strange/Creepy Man: So, how are you? (a la Joey Tribbiani + x5 creep factor)
Me: *sitting up immediately and searching for my shoes* Oh, just fine.
Creepy McCreepster: Oh no, you don't have to leave.
Me: *with a shudder and a new world record for putting on shoes* Well, I should be getting back.
C McC: So, are you waiting for a doctor?
Me: *getting up to leave* No, as unprofessional as this sounds I actually work here.
I instead pestered a CA and commandeered an unused consult room that I could securely lock with a couch upon which I sprawled haphazardly like a dying walrus and proceeded to snore away my break. Much better and more comfortable than having to demurely roll myself into a ball in a public place. Thank you, Creepy McC.
I emerged from this cave looking bleary and tousled, much like a receptionist who just had a quick amorous scuffle with the mailroom clerk- without the clerk or the amorous scuffle.
I was generously offered the afternoon off- I wonder if this is more because my coworkers want to fumigate my station rather than actual altruism- but I decided that spending the next few hours fighting with my stomach about unloading the mashed potatoes I was able to choke down for lunch would go better if I was paid for them.
Call me capitolistic.
And just to make my day so much more enjoyable I am walking around in new shoes which haven't been stretched to fit my feet giving me cramped toes and blistered heels. Payless was having a BOGO sale and it prompted me to finally retire my favorite red and black shoes (which have long ago seen their best days.)
(rockstar shoes)
These shoes have been loyal to me for five years, crossing many borders and seeing many sights. They've taken me to three continents and carried me through many airports. They were also the worst shoes I could wear out of my arsenal because with their platform soles and my curved feet I constantly rolled my ankles at random moments to the point that my husband actually looked at me and asked, "are you sure there's not something wrong with you?"
But I digress, these shoes have been the object of much envy and admiration through the years, and I will miss them.
And with the BOGO sale I am now the proud owner of a sophisticated pair of heeled mules and these devilish(ly cute) mary-janes which are causing me so much suffering today.
(the SOH shoes)
(and by SOH I mean Spawn of Hell which I lovingly named them on the long hike back to the parking ramp.)
I knew they were going to be trouble-makers and stood for a good 5 minutes this morning deciding which shoes to wear today. However since the mules looked positively preposterous with my wicked-awesome flagrantly-colored toe socks, I opted for the mary-janes. It usually hurts to look this cute.
So farewell to the marvelous red and black shoes I long ago named Mickey.
It was a good five years.
Can I go home and sleep now?
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