What Women REALLY Think Men Think

We have all heard the jokes, read the stories, looked at the funny pictures, etc., of what women think and what men think.  Then we have the whole other world of what we women think you men think.  You want the truth?  Nothing.  We don’t think, we KNOW that you think absolutely nothing.  That or you think about food and/or sex.  We just like to make you believe that’s it’s this big thing and we are all upset and we told you A when really we meant XY and Z and clearly you should have known what we meant and now what are you thinking, you’re thinking about some new hot thing that just started working in your office, why aren’t you talking, you should communicate better…   Yeah, no.  We know full well that no matter what the circumstance, your minds are big giant blank thought bubbles.  We say, as you stare off into space, why are you thinking about that hot chick?  Of course you reply with, what hot chick?  We claim to not believe you knowing full well that as soon as we said “hot chick” your mind went to buffalo wings.  Except we walk around the house pissed for days clinging to some imaginary hot chick.  No we don’t fellas.   You want to know what we just did?   We bought ourselves a nice tasty snack of hot wings (Because after that thought was put in your head you craved them, again no you didn’t, WE DID.  We just made sure that you were on board and drove to get us some.)  We also bought ourselves some flowers, possibly chocolates, hell maybe ever a new outfit or pair of shoes.  See how that works gentlemen?  Those blank thought bubbles are filled with whatever the heck we see fit.

Notice that there is a woman in control

Honey, I need a new pair of shoes.  The heel is coming off this one.    You think, go to the shoe repair and get it fixed, but then quickly realize that’s not the right answer.  So, you either sit silent because you have no idea what the right answer is and you need us to fill your empty thought bubble or you’re smart for a second because this conversation seems vaguely familiar due to our excellent training and you say, you should buy yourself a new pair of shoes.   If you actually paid attention in I have a woman now so I’m in proper man school, you hand over cash or credit to boot.   If you have the balls to utter your original thought, you fail and you’re eventually going to get the right answer because we are going to see fit that you do.

FINE!  *big sigh* I’ll try to find a shoe repair.  Now we know at this stage you know we are pissed, but that your mind instantly went back to being blank because you don’t care and you think that’s the end of it.   BWAHAHAHAHAHA   We go about our business, loudly, move a few things around as we pretend to clean (you sick women really clean, lol), throw some food your way, and then institute the death stare.   You have zero idea why the hell we are looking at you like we want to skin you alive because after all that random crap we just did you truly forgot about our previous shoe convo and start to panic.   We tell you over and over again that nothing is wrong and we are not mad at anything.   This could go on for days if we let it.  Why don’t we just come right out and say what we want?  Well because that would be easy and it’s WAY more fun to screw with you guys.

I dare you to ask your significant other if this is true.   She will deny this and it will start WWIII.  You want to throw her for a loop and get your Master’s Degree today?  Go look in her closet, find out her shoe size and buy her a pair of shoes.  You want to do one even better?  Go look in her closet, find out her clothing size and pay attention to the brand, go to the mall and buy her an outfit.  BUT make sure the outfit is at least one, better off making it two, sizes too small.  Make sure you have a gift receipt.   You know what you just did?  You made her feel skinny and gave her an excuse to go shopping because she has to return what you just bought.  You’re welcome.  ; )

Ladies, don’t worry.  99.9999% of the men didn’t get past the first line.  Your secret is safe.  The men that actually finished this entire blog already know to just hand you their money in the first place.

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R.E.S.P.E.C.T Find Out What It Means To Me!

Last night as I sat and watched The State Of The Union address, I could already see the blogs, the websites, the Facebook statuses just rolling in my head.  When you are the President of the United States people either like you or they don’t.  There is no in between.  President Obama could have promised that all Americans would be lottery winners come morning and to the people who already have it made up in their minds to hate the man, it wouldn’t have made a difference.   I understand the hatred of the politics he preaches, but to hate the man himself, I don’t get it.  How is it possible to hate a man you don’t even know?    To say that you KNOW him through the work he does, doesn’t mean you know him at all.  What you know is the job he does or doesn’t do, you don’t know him.

What you know is things you read in print, things you see on TV, things you heard on the radio, and things you are told via hearsay.   Unless you have spent time with Obama on a personal level and by personal, I mean you have known him for years and well before he was President and you can dial his number on the phone and actually get him as the person picking up the phone, you don’t know him.  I repeat, you only know him based on his job.  A job does not define a man.

Imagine you walked up to your boss, called him every name under the sun, told him you thought he was worthless, that his family was worthless, that he was a liar, that he ruined your life, that he had no business even flipping a burger let alone be the boss of you.  Do you think it would be logical for you to expect to have your job in the morning?  No.   Most people who feel this way about their boss, think it in their heads, they don’t dare say it out loud.  So again, I don’t get when I go on FB  and read a million status posts and comments ripping apart Obama as a person, not merely as a President.

Republicans, Democrats, Tea Party, Pajama Party, Tardy For The Party…never going to agree on everything.  So agree to disagree and meet on a logical middle ground.  Stop tearing politics apart and work on putting real solutions together.  It doesn’t matter if Obama wins the upcoming election or not, no matter who sits in the seat as President, there is always going to be people to don’t like the job the President does.  There are always going to be finger pointers and blame gamers, but tell me what that solves?  Sure, you feel better when you get every 4 letter word off your chest and tell em how you really feel, but could you do better?  Could you really do better?  Could you take a country in which the masses loathe you and convince them that what you say is what’s best for them even though they are NEVER going to believe you?  Would you be ok is someone randomly just spit in your face or tried to gun you down because they didn’t like the job you did that day and that day alone?

I don’t care if you like Obama or don’t like him, that’s not what this blog is about.  As the President, the man (and don’t confuse the man with the job) has earned the right to receive some level of respect.  What does it teach your children to hear you spew hatred regarding the man?   Don’t you think it would be beneficial to show your children that while you disagree with his politics, don’t really like the job he’s done thus far, etc.,  that there is always the possibility for change and that you have hope for their future?  Wait, here’s the part where I get told that you have no hope, he’s screwed up the country for life, there’s no getting out of it, he should be impeached, blah blah blah…..SHUT UP!  You don’t even know if I agree with you, so don’t try to tell me what you think I need to know about Obama.  I watch the same news you do, I read the same papers you do, we may even share some friends, hell, my husband and I are believers of two different political agendas but we are still married.  What I’m telling you is to show the man some respect.  He’s earned it.   Whether you voted for him or not, he’s earned it.  You would want the same respect.    Unless you think you could actually bring to reality the 15 million things you KNOW you could do better, sit down, take a breath, relax, and realize that you can’t.  Be a better American, be a better human being, put politics aside, and respect the fact that the man sits in a position where he has millions of other “you’s” yelling and screaming at him day in and day out just as you do.  Ask yourself what kind of job you think you could do with the weight of a nation literally breathing down your neck and attacking you as a person for no other reason than your job description.  You don’t need to respect his politics, but you do need to respect him as a human being.

Surviving Caffeine Withdrawal

I’m back from The Cleveland Clinic and I have no real answers to speak of.  I’m going to bite my tongue and not give my final opinion just yet, but let’s just say I was less than impressed.  The staff was nice, but that’s as far as I’m going right now.

One of the things that the Dr was adamant about was that I give up caffeine.  Are you kidding me!!!!!   Give up caffeine?  Why don’t you just cut off a leg or an arm.  Alright alright, I realize that in the grand scheme of things, giving up caffeine is a drop in the bucket, but you are forgetting one very important thing in all of this.  Caffeine withdrawal.   I have been a migraine sufferer for years and taking away my caffeine with no warning is much like getting hot fire pokers in the eyes.  Yeah, it’s painful.  Throw some screaming children into the mix and it’s like pouring battery acid on an open wound.  Yeah, it’s REALLY painful.   The Dr also took away my right to eat any and all dairy products.  So now, I cannot even drown my sorrows in a bowl of ice cream.   And as a side note, trying to find products without dairy in them is like a where’s Waldo mystery.  Seriously, my Morning Star Farms veggie bacon has milk in it.  Um, **scratches head**, really?  But I’ll get to the vile tasting products I’ve encountered later, back to the no caffeine.

When I was going through in-vitro, I cut myself off caffeine.  I was one of those neurotic Nelly’s that wasn’t taking anything while pregnant, not even Tylenol.  Having been through caffeine withdrawal twice, I knew that when this Dr said no caffeine, I was going to want to die.  It’s been 4 days now and I still have the mother of all migraines.  Did I mention he also took away my ability to take Motrin and Excedrin?  ***sobs heard round the world***  LOL   Now I don’t know what this Dr. thinks is going to be accomplished with such foolishness, but I’ve tried everything else under the sun to get my stomach distention fixed, so I’m willing to try this.  If it works, he can give me a big I told you so.   In the meantime, I need to function.  How do I that?  No really, how do I do that?   Oh you thought this blog was going to be me telling you there was some miracle way to get through caffeine withdrawal.  My bad.  ; )

Booze, not it.  I have to be a responsible parent.  Besides, the amount of alcohol it would take to get rid of this migraine would only create a new migraine in the morning.  Next

A hot shower.  Tried it.  Next

Chocolate.  Nope can’t have that.  It has caffeine and dairy.  So I tried to make vegan Nutella because I saw some recipe on Pinterest and thought it was going to be my savior.  Not even.  Let this be a lesson to you that there is no such thing as vegan Nutella.   I should have known after the black bean brownie debacle.  Equally nauseating.

Tea.  Ok, that’s like telling someone to eat a banana when they want an apple.  Just because tea and coffee happen to be two hot liquids, doesn’t mean they are on the same planet.  While I drank coffee for the caffeine, I happened to like the taste.   So until you can turn that tea into coffee, I don’t want it.

Migraine meds.  Tried them all.  Ok, maybe not them all, but some.  So far, none have worked.  Most recently my Dr had me on Topamax aka dopamax.   That rendered me a drooling mess.  Literally, I think I drooled a few times on it.  Not to mention I couldn’t spell simple words like bicycle and I couldn’t remember my daughter’s name.  Let’s not even talk about the tingling sensation you get while on it.

So, all you home remedy geniuses and the I’ve got the cure for sure people, give it your best shot.   Tell me how you rid yourself of migraines.   If it works, you get a gold star.  You thought I was going to say a prize?  I don’t have sponsors for my blog or any advertisements.  Check back in 6 months.  Maybe this blog will have blown up by then and you can be the person credited with getting rid of my migraine.  Sound better?  LOL

 

 

 

When Plastic Surgery Becomes A Nightmare.

On June 4, 2011, I broke my silence about what a nightmare my plastic surgery had become.  People often stereotype plastic surgery with being vain, but 9 times out of 10 for patients whom have undergone weight loss surgery (WLS), that’s not the case.  When a person loses 100 pounds or more and has the skin leftover to show for it, it’s no longer an issue of vanity.  It’s a painful daily reminder of a life hopefully long gone.   I LOVE when I hear people say, “can’t you just go to a gym and exercise it off or tighten it up?”  No!   No, I cannot just go to a gym and work out until it falls off or snaps back.  Trust me, I tried, but I’ll get to that.

For a time after posting my original story, I was quiet about what happened.  Not because my issues had fixed themselves (and in fact, they have become much much worse, but again, I’ll get to that), but because my plastic surgeon had his attorney contact my husband (who is also an attorney) to suggest that I be quiet.  The surgeon (or whomever he has following obesityhelp.com) complained and stomped his foot in the sand until they removed my post because it clearly showed him in a less than favorable light.  Here’s the thing, nothing I said wasn’t the truth and I’m not going to sit silent for one more second.  Life is not always sunshine and rainbows.   If one person reads my blog and spares themself the horror that I am currently living, it’s worth it.  On Thursday morning I will travel to The Cleveland Clinic for treatment.  For over a year, I have lived with problem after problem and they all started conveniently shortly after plastics.

I am going to post my original story and then fill in some blanks because things have changed dramatically since I originally posted my story and not for the better.

I would like to give you all a warning about having plastics and if it helps even just one person to not go through what I am currently going through, then my job is done.   I’m not saying that WLS patients should not have plastics, I’m saying there are certain things that need to be considered before going under the knife.   Let me start my story from the beginning.

10 years ago I had gastric bypass surgery; the duodenal switch to be exact.   I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I have been a by-the-book patient from day one because that would be a lie.  I have maintained my weight loss and I have had to work damn hard to do so.   I had 3 children (my twins are 2 1/2 and my youngest daughter is 17 months old) and figured since I was done having children, it would be the right time to finally consider plastic surgery.  Before even considering plastics though (and even before my children came along), I joined a gym, got a personal trainer, and tried to literally work my ass off.  Over the years, I have had 4 additional open abdominal surgeries all stemming from complications from my GB, so the last thing I wanted to do was have another surgery just to have one.  So again, I exhausted all options to try and tighten up my loose skin, but as we all know, it’s just does not happen when you lose that much weight.  However, I wanted to be in damn good shape before any plastic surgery and I was.

I started at 263 and was down to about 132 before having plastics.  When I was researching plastic surgeons, I chose my plastic surgeon not only by word-of-mouth reputation, but based on the fact that he specialized in post-op GB patients.   I figured he knew what he was doing.  I did my due diligence by having him checked out by my husband (who happens to be an attorney) and my friend (who was working for one of the top med mal firms in MI) to make sure he had never been sued. He hadn’t.

In Aug 2010, I had my initial consultation with Vincent DiNick.  He seemed like a no nonsense kind of guy.  Personable, slightly cocky, but I felt comfortable with him.  Most importantly, he assured me that he would make me even more beautiful.   I was contemplating two procedures:  Abdominoplasty for excess skin with double hernia repair after the twins and my youngest were all delivered vaginally, and breast lift and augmentation.  My insurance would be covering the abdominoplasty since I had lost over 100 pounds and I also needed a double hernia repair.  I had to pay an out of pocket cost of $1000 for the extra vertical cut and skin removal which I was fine with.   At that time, Dr. DiNick and I discussed the lift and augmentation with implants.  While I would have LOVED to have complete body skin removal (thighs and arms) I just couldn’t afford it and I wasn’t ready to go through all that surgery.

So I booked the dates for the TT and breast aug.   It saved me $2000 to split the surgeries up so that’s what I did.   I was to have the TT first and 3 weeks later I would be having the breast aug.

At my initial consult, Dr. DiNick said to me that he could tell I was anemic just by looking at me.  This would also be confirmed by the pre-op blood work, which it was.  I got a phone call a week before surgery to tell me that I was anemic and to just double up on my iron.  Ok, this is where the first problem began.   Double up on my iron.  Hmmmm, being a GB patient I already have absorption issues, but being a DS patient I am the most malabsorptive patient out there.  So telling me to just double up on my iron a week before a surgery, yeah, that’s not going to do a damn thing.  An iron infusion should have been ordered.   But it wasn’t.  I probably should have insisted that one be given, but I didn’t.   I figured that my surgeon knew what he was doing.

So on 10/22/10, I had my abdominoplasty.  It went off without a hitch, or so I was told.   Recovery was fairly simple, but extra slow.  Looking back on it, I now know why, I was SUPER anemic.   On 11/15/10, I went in for the breast augmentation.  What was to be a simple 3-4 hour max procedure, turned into an 11 hour, yes you read that right, an 11 hour marathon surgery.  To this day, I haven’t been told why.  The only explanation I have ever received from Dr. DiNick was that I had terrible breasts and he had to “force” the implants in.  I was so “in-shape” that it was very difficult for him to get them under the muscle.  Now, here is where my second issue begins.  I was told BEFORE surgery number 1, that I was anemic.  Dr. DiNick did not see fit to draw labs between surgery number 1 and surgery number 2.  So, I went into surgery number 2 very anemic.  Dr. DiNick did not see fit to draw labs after an 11 hour surgery either.  Regardless if blood loss was minimal (so I was told) for either surgery, there was blood loss.  LABS SHOULD HAVE BEEN DRAWN!!!   This is a surgeon who does nothing but post-GB patients and he never saw fit to draw simple labs?  Why?

For 6 weeks after my breast aug, I vomited daily.  I wasn’t able to keep a thing down, so I ate and drank what I could keep down.  Broth, rice, and pop.  Yes, I drank pop.  OOooooooohhhhh, lol.   I have since stopped drinking pop, but like I said, I was trying to keep myself hydrated.  I called Dr. DiNick and advised him of my issue and he called me in a script for anti nausea meds.  Didn’t help.   On Dec 29, 2010, I saw Dr. DiNick for a follow up appointment.   At that time he told me I looked like “death” and one of his staff members (the staff nutritionist) also told me that I look like “death”.  Yet he STILL saw fit to not have my labs drawn and sent me on my merry way.  Do  you want to know why I looked like death (and I mean I was gray in color)?  It’s because I was on the verge of death.

On New Years Day, I was taken to the ER by my husband because my legs had swollen up to the point of I couldn’t even make out that I had ankles or toes.  I had over 10 pounds of fluid weight on me.   My body was shutting down from low protein and lack of iron.  One of the many Dr’s I saw at the hospital told me that I was in high output heart failure.  What?  High output heart failure?  I’m 33(32 at the time), how the hell did this happen?

Well, I was so malnourished and so anemic (which would have been found out if he had drawn simple labs….how many times have I stressed this now?  Not enough!) that I was dying.   I was admitted to the hospital where I was given blood transfusions, iron infusions, and I wore compression stockings for the entire time I was there.   Problems over right?  WRONG!  This was just the beginning of my current nightmare.

I noticed that something was not right with my left breast and my stomach early on.  My stomach was distended to the point of me looking 6 months pregnant at all times and my nipple placement along with my scar placement on my left breast was off.  My nipple was (well is) sitting under my armpit.  After consulting with my regular Dr (who sent me through the ringer with tests because she felt a mass in my abdomen, still yet to be diagnosed as to what the hell she felt) and an endocrinologist (who would diagnose me with a laundry list of issues I did not have before having plastics…..secondary hyperparathyroidism, RICKETS!!!!!!!, low vitamin everything, anemia, etc.) I saw Dr. DiNick for what would be the last time in March 2011.   Had he looked at my breasts he would have noticed a problem, but he only looked at my distended abdomen to which his response was, “there is something very wrong, maybe you have ascites.”  Oh, and he also said, “You ruined my work!”  I ruined his work?  How?

Maybe somebody can answer that question for me some day.   Yet nothing was done about it.   I consulted with a gastric bypass surgeon who also said, something was wrong, but he didn’t know what.   He referred me to a gastroenterologist.  I haven’t been able to see him yet.  The earliest appointment I could get was June 20th.  So I have been sitting for months and months with a very painful, very distended stomach.   And yet the problems just keep on coming.

Let’s go back to the left breast.   A little over a month ago, I felt something pop (even more than it had) and I couldn’t catch my breath.  I knew something was terribly wrong.  So off I went to the ER again.  I was told that my pectoralis had torn completely open which allowed the breast implant to pop on through.  It’s pretty much free floating around.  The implant bottomed out and I can now feel the right implant beginning to do the same.  Bottoming out is something that happens in maybe 8-10% of normal patients.  Patients with malnutrition/malabsorption issues (uh, GB patients, ding ding ding) have an increased risk to 20%.  This was NEVER told to me.  Also, this could have possibly been prevented had Dr. DiNick used the proper type of implant, which he did not and a mesh anchor, again, which he did not.  I did not even know an anchor was an option.  The fact that I was a gym rat (and Dr. DiNick knew this) meant that I was all muscle in the breasts.  He knew from the start that I would have a hell of a time.   I like to say that he gave me the Kia of implants.  He used a smooth round saline implant when he should have used a textured implant and a mesh anchor to hold the implants in place.  When you are all muscle, it puts pressure on the implants.  Um, I would have thought that a plastic surgeon (who does nothing but GB patients) would have realized my increased risk and would have realized (by me being a gym rat and being in, according to him, the best physical shape he has ever seen any of his patients be in) that I the very least would need a mesh anchor due to increased pressure that I would no doubt have on my implants.   And by the way, none of this still explains why my surgery went 11 hours long and while he offered for me to stay the night, he allowed me to be sent on my merry way.

Now, since this is not considered medical malpractice (and let’s be clear, I feel in my heart of hearts that he is responsible for medical malpractice) and I cannot sue him (unless when the new surgeon opens me up and finds some really jacked up stuff) I am now forced to pay out of pocket to fix his mistake to the tune of $14,000. They deem this as cosmetic surgery which means insurance doesn’t cover it.  To me, there is nothing cosmetic about this.  What’s cosmetic about a torn open pectoral muscle and a nipple that’s sitting in my armpit?  What’s cosmetic about an implant that has ripped through the muscle?  I get that implants themselves wouldn’t be covered, but the surgery itself, anesthesia, the theatre, the hospital stay, etc. really should be covered.  A tear is something medical, it’s not cosmetic.  I’m sitting here looking like a monster with my nipple in my armpit, my implant floating around, a torn open damn chest muscle, a pregnant looking stomach (which hasn’t even been addressed yet, lord only knows what the hell this issue is), swollen legs which now require me to wear compression stockings for at least 6 months due to lipedema and the bonus is that I get to literally pay for it.  It’s not enough that I am reminded of his mistakes every time I look in the mirror or when my son looks at my stomach and says, “what’s wrong with your belly?”  Nope, I get to pay thousands upon thousands of dollars to fix this.   What’s worse is that I am currently on a lift restriction and I am in severe pain.  No surgeon deems this as a medical emergency which means I get to wait and really I get to wait even longer because I have to find the $14,000 money tree first to fix this.  According to the new plastic surgeon, the longer I wait, the more difficult the repair becomes.   Try to explain to 3 toddlers why I cannot lift them, hold them, play with them and simply be their mom.   I chose to have plastics yes, I knew there would be risks, yes, but not these risks and not these problems that I am now living with.  I was NEVER informed that any of this would be a possibility.

I don’t want another living soul to go through this.  Do your research people.  Be up front with your surgeons and most importantly ask questions.  If you are splitting up your surgeries, DEMAND that iron levels be checked.  If you are anemic before having surgery, get your iron levels up with infusions BEFORE going under the knife.   If you are low on protein levels, get them up BEFORE you have surgery.  Do your part, but also make sure that your Dr does his/her part and hold them accountable when he/she isn’t doing the right things by you.  This is your life we are talking about.

That was my story.  Since then I have had my implants repaired by a different plastic surgeon.  When the new surgeon opened me up he found that on the left side, the pocket (or capsule as I guess they call it) had never formed.  This is what allowed the implant to be able to move around and bottom out.  While the right side was closed, it was nowhere near where it should have been for someone who was 7 months post-op from a breast augmentation.   So, he sewed in the mesh anchor to my ribs and replaced my smooth round saline implants with a textured gel silicone implant instead.  Couple that with my nutritional/vitamin issues and I never had a chance.  The surgeon said that he had seen cancer patients with better tissue structure than me.  *insert the sound of a record scratching here*  What?  Now, health wise, I wasn’t 100% percent going into the implant repair, but I was in a far better place than I was.  So, I can only imagine what the condition of my tissue was when Dr. DiNick performed the original surgery.  Wouldn’t he have noticed this immediately?  My guess is yes and if that’s the case, he should have stopped the surgery right then and there.  In my opinion, that was putting me at 100% failure rate if my tissue was in such a state.  So in plain English, he put implants in my body with no means to cover them up, but closed me up anyway.  Knock on wood, the new implants as far as I know, are still in their proper place.  That’s the breasts, what about my stomach?

Well, since this original post, I have been operated on, again, by my original gastric bypass surgeon.  Since nothing of substance was showing on any scans/xrays or any of the other bazillion tests I had, he had to open me up blind.  He found only slight adhesions and two areas of the small intestine that he had to widen.  It didn’t correct my stomach distention, bloat, or pain and the gastric bypass surgeon is fairly convinced that my issues, whatever they may be because he just doesn’t know, are too coincidental to be anything other than related to the abdominoplasty.

Upon receiving my operative report, I noticed a couple of things.  One, a missing JP drain tube.  I would hope that with the surgery and with the myriad of tests that I have had, if a JP drain tube was lodged inside me somewhere, it would have shown up.  However, at this point, I wouldn’t put anything off the table as this story is crazy enough and that would be the icing on the cake.  It would also explain a hell of a lot.   So as you can imagine, I’m a bit concerned with regard to that.   Also, Dr DiNick removed adhesions unbeknownst to me.  I get that sometimes surgeons will remove adhesions in order to repair a hernia, but according to his own operative report, my hernias were not large so why root around in adhesion land given my past surgical history?  At the very minimum, I should have been informed that he removed adhesions, yes?  Again, this is one carnival ride I would really like to get the hell off of.

I have had consultations with a gastroenterologist here locally and a bacterial overgrowth was ruled out as well as Celiac disease.  I have also been hospitalized again due to the swelling and stomach issues.  I’ll spare you readers the details of what occurred at this most recent hospital stay, but let’s just say it wasn’t pretty and I tip my hat to all nurses of the world.  You are all grossly underpaid if you have to do things like that on a daily basis.  OMG!  Anyway…

So off to The Cleveland Clinic I will go.  No tests, no Dr’s, no nothing have been able to diagnose the issue or give me any sort of relief.  The one general constant in all of this is that there is a problem, a very real and visible problem.  I am getting worse by the second and had I not been able to get this appointment when I did, I would probably still be in the hospital.  AND THAT’S THE TRUTH!!!

I wasn’t going to post these, but I feel that a picture is worth a thousand words.

This is my current state. The first pic was BEFORE plastics, the middle about 5 seconds after, and now. See my problem!

Hold On To Your Mother Effin Chips!

A friend of mine pointed me to a contest for guacamole.   Why not.  I love coming up with recipes.  Well, I take that back.  I like cooking off the cuff, but paying attention to actual measurements, etc., meh, not so much.  However, on rare occasions such as this, I bust out my attention and write things down.  This recipe was super simple and you can eat it as is with some simple chips or you can serve it over some grilled fish, shrimp, chicken, and have yourself an awesome meal.

I love my sweet and savory together.  I make a tomatoless fruit salsa that I put on my fish tacos and when trying to think of different ways to reinvent the classic guacamole, fruit was the natural place to go for me.  Sweet, savory, spicy…it’s a triple threat for sure.   If you close your eyes, you can imagine yourself whisked away to a tropical island.  Ok, maybe you’ll have to add a mojito or two to do that, but hey, that would go fantastic with the guacamole too.  So grab your tortilla chips or chips of choice and hold on!  This recipe is a winner and sure to please.

Tropical Fruit Guacamole

2 ripe avocados from Mexico, pitted, peeled, and chopped

2 Dole tropical fruit cups, drained (the 4 oz cups….and the best thing about using fruit cups is the fruit is always ripe and it’s already chopped for you)

1/4 large red onion, minced

1 clove garlic, minced

2 TBSPN lime juice

2-3 TBSPN cumin

1-2 TBSPN adobo seasoning (I used Frontier Organic)

1/4 TSPN cayenne pepper

4 oz roasted, peeled, diced mild green chilis

Sea salt to taste

Mix everything together in a medium sized bowl.  If you like your guacamole on the smoother side, take the back of a fork and mash the avocado a bit.   Let chill out for about 5 minutes for the flavors to come together and serve with your favorite chip of choice.   I ate some as is and later on tonight I’m going to grill up some shrimp that I will marinate in a mango balsamic, some garlic, cumin, and lemon juice and have myself a good old meal.  Some Benadryl too (I’m allergic to shellfish, but I eat it anyway….one of these days it will probably kill me, but it’s SHELLFISH!  Mmmmm mmmmm good!), but it’s worth it.

Sweet, savory, spicy....TRIPLE THREAT!

A Caftan By Any Other Name…

A caftan by any other name would actually be called a muumuu.  Why do we fall victim to these hideous fashion trends?  I have seen caftans cost upwards of almost $7000.  That’s right, a wearable tent for $7000!  Are you kidding me?  Go get me one of your ugliest sheets, make sure it’s got some fugtrocious pattern on it, and bring me scissors.  I’ll cut you a hole for your head to fit through and voila, a caftan!  I’ll only charge you $19.95.   I know what you’re thinking though, not me, I’m not going to be caught dead wearing a caftan.  Here’s why you lie.

Day in and day out, you will be bombarded with images of the caftan.  You will see them in all your magazines as the new trend for spring.  You will see one, just one that catches your eye.  You’ll be tricked.  They will have thrown in a slight V at the neck and a not so floral, floral pattern.  Black, white, and yellow it will be, hot right?  You will be tricked again when you see just a glimmer of a defined waist, but NO….that’s camera trickery my friend.  The model is pinned in to the caftan or they belted it and the belt, as we know, is NEVER included with the dress.  A v neckline, a waist, noooooooo, that’s not a caftan, that’s just a maxi dress mistaken for a caftan.   So you will e-mail the picture to your friend and your friend will tell you to buy it.  You will not do it yet.  You will not do it until you see a celebrity in that very caftan, maxi, caftan, maxi…. and say, that’s it!  I must have it.  Then and only then will you run to the store and purchase it.  You will wear it once.  It looks nothing like it did in the magazine or on the famous person you just saw wearing it.  It will hang in your closet until the end of time or until you clean it out for Goodwill.  Think about it, how many times have you done what I described?  More than once, I know you have.  ; )  Don’t worry though, you’re not alone.

I live by the beach.  $5 says I buy a caftan, call it a “beach cover-up” and live in the damn thing.  Or, I find kiddie versions and force my children to engage in the viciousness that is the fashion trend.  This brings me to another trend that one should NEVER engage in.  I’m serious.  As an adult, if I catch you wearing this, I will point and laugh.  What am I talking about?  The adult jumper!  Jumpers should only ever be worn by young children.  Jumper, jumper….just saying the word sounds childlike.  Yet, the masses of women run to buy these frumpy dumpy sacks and wear them like it’s nothing.  Listen, anything that requires me to strip naked in public just to pee, is nothing that I want to be wearing.  If you tell me not to worry about that because the jumper you just bought has a snap crotch, I rest my case even further.  A snap crotch!!??  You know who else wears snap crotch clothing?  NEWBORNS!  Do you know how annoying it is to snap up 10 little crotch snaps?  And that’s on a baby.  I can just imagine the public restroom stall chaos that would occur with me trying to snap up my own crotch or not have my crotch flap touch the bathroom floor while trying to squat pee.  It would be even worse if we had to go back to my original scenario that has me taking the entire top half off because that’s the only way to get it down.  Gross with a big old capital G!

So readers, what’s going to be the fashion trend that you fall into?  The primary color pants?  The caftan?  The adult jumper?  The miami vice boyfriend jacket? No no, it’s going to be the Michael Kors Wetsuit Dress! (google that, you’ll thank me later)  I should have just kept all my clothing from the 80’s, that way I wouldn’t have to go shopping come spring.  I bet if I go to Goodwill I can find it all.  ; )

You think it's cute don't you. It's still a caftan! : Neiman Marcus for Temperley London Domitia Two-Tone Caftan

 

Chuck Chuck Bo Buck Banana Fanana Fo…

Show of hands, who remembers singing The Name Game and then getting to the one kid named Chuck and then laughing your head off when you finished the song?  Congrats, if you remember, you are probably at least as old as I am!  ; )  It’s not Chuck’s fault his name is Chuck, it’s his parents fault.  Blame them.  Picking a baby name is big business.   People will go to great lengths to find THE name.  Websites, polls, name experts, list after countless list…..I think you get the picture.  Others will use family names.  Some I think blindfold themselves and point and pick in a baby name book.  Some I think use their food cravings during pregnancy to pick names….Hey Cheeto, how’s it going today?   And then we have that rare breed called the Celebrity.    They are in a category all their own.

Is it their celeb status that causes them to give a big eff you to the world when naming their kids?  Is it a long standing bet they all have going within the celebrity circle to give the most outlandish names to their kids?  Or is it a giant conspiracy amongst the general public to release a horrid, no doubt, made up name to keep you talking about them, but really putting something totally normal on the birth certificate as the kids legal name.  Yeah, you didn’t think about that one did you!  ; )  Whatever the reasoning behind choosing a name, parents please, you hold your child’s well-being on the tip of your tongue.  I don’t care that you can fart out $20’s and wipe with $50’s, you’re setting your kid up to be tortured.

My dad is Michael Jackson……yeah, your name is still Blanket, come here so I can punch you in the face for being named Blanket.

Let’s list off some of the more off the wall celebrity baby names shall we

Pilot Inspektor

Fifi Trixibell

Audio Science

Sage Moonblood

Satchel

Moxie CrimeFighter

Moon Unit (although I do expect such a name coming from Frank Zappa, you’re excused)

And how can we forget the most recent Blue Ivy Carter, the daughter of Beyonce and Jay-Z.   Doesn’t sound so bad when you look at the above names does it?   I don’t know, naming your child is such a personal thing and we all have our own reasons for naming our kids what we do, but honestly, if you know that the world is watching and is going to be talking about you and your kid(s) regardless, do the kid a solid and name them something normal.  You never know when your fame and fortune will dry up and your kid will no longer be able to sleep in a gold dusted crib or say my mommy or daddy is so and so…   Your kid may even one day have to get a real JOB!  *gasp*  So, don’t name your kids after record albums, songs you wrote, movies you wish you never acted in, strippers you hooked up with, bottles of booze you drank that one night when the child was conceived, foods you LOVE, inanimate objects, ficticious superheros, random voweless letters and symbols, Countries and States, planets, places (and by places I mean actual places like kitchen, bathroom, garage, playground, etc.), and finally moods.   Forgive me if I missed a category.

I got a ton of flack and hairy eyeballs for naming my daughter Dylan.  I don’t really care.  I named her before she was born and became attached to this name for her while she was barely a twinkle in my eye.   So I sort of get when celebs turn up their noses to people who make comments about their kids names, but Dylan is a far cry from Diva Thin Muffin (sorry Frank, I cannot forgive you for that one….HORRID).

So choose wisely parents.  Kids have enough garbage they will have to go through as kids.   Don’t toss a wretched name on their plates too!    Especially if you have a jacked up last name.    Says the woman who has a normal first name (thank god) who grew up with the last name of a female, lady town, body part.  People still call me Buster at age 33.  The end.  : )