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Archive for July, 2009

During my last doctor’s visit, I was asking my doctor about birth control options. During the past year and a half, I developed severed health complications which result in me never being able to take hormones. Birth control pills work because of the hormones that are in them. Basically, besides the condom and the sponge, my only two options are an IUD or tubal ligation. All of that aside, during the visit and the conversation, I became aware that I will have to endure menopause without the aide of any medication. OMG!

Sure, menopause is another ten years out for me, perhaps more given family history, but have you ever been around a woman going through menopause?  Did I mention, OMG!?!?!  LOL   Luckily for my children, they will be gone by then. My son may still be around, but he’ll be 18 so he will at least have the option of moving away from me. Unless I happen to remarry, that will leave just me. Just me to battle my mood swings and hot flashes.

I know I’m too young to worry about it, but really, menopause without hormones? OMG!!

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I used to know this girl. She was beautiful; dark, dark hair, deep brown eyes, olive colored skin. I was jealous of her beauty until one day I happened to notice stubbly black hair growing on her chin. This surprised me. During the next few days, I watched that beard continue to grow just a little bit more with each day. I’m sure that she was letting it grow just long enough until she could get it waxed, but I began to understand her insecurities on a whole new level.

While most women tend to have their eyebrows and even their upper lip and perhaps their chin waxed, it is not common for women to actually have a full beard. However, upon doing a handy dandy google search, I did discover that it is far more common than I had realized.

For instance, I’m sure you will recognize our first unshaven woman:

hillary_with_beard

Now you’ve got to admit, that’s some funny stuff! In all seriousness, though, being a woman with facial hair is not. Upon my google search I discovered some women who choose to wear their beards. I find this fascinating. Perhaps because it is something that I would not do. Like most women, I have some facial hair here and there that I have waxed. During those in between times, while it is growing in and not quite ready to be waxed, I become very self conscience. I can not imagine what it would be like to actually battle a full beard. I am impressed by these women that are strong enough to let their beards grow. I could never do it.

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***WARNING – This is not a well written piece. The title should have been your first clue.   🙂

I am a firm believer in fate. I believe that if things are meant to be, they will be. I am at a point in my life in which I am waiting to see what fate is offering me. I am puzzled by it, enthused by it, excited by it. I am also terrible at waiting.

About two years ago, someone walked into my life as an acquaintance. I have never had the opportunity to get to know him due to circumstances. We had a professional relationship that really would have been awkward to breech. That relationship has since ended and circumstances put him into my life on a personal level. After having a secret crush on him for two years, we are now in the very beginning stages of dating. I hate this stage. The waiting, the not knowing, the wondering.

I have found that dating at this stage in my life is a completely different game. Well, of course it is since I was first married at 18. In adult dating, we seem to cut to the chase quicker, even breaking the “rules” of dating in many cases. We establish whether or not we want children, if we have any plans to move or are in the area for the long haul, and religious beliefs early on. We look at our list of things that are unacceptable and if the man or woman meets any of those criteria, we are quick to cross them off and move on. We have a firmer grip of who we are and what we are looking for in a relationship.

Some couples play the field more and date several people. I haven’t found this to be true for myself nor for the men that I have dated. I know at least one continued to play the field while we were together, and that was fine. I knew we weren’t in it for the long haul and it was fun while it lasted. One man told me that one woman is enough and he can’t handle trying to balance/date more than one woman at a time. I think that statement sums it up for most of us that are looking for that lasting relationship.

I find myself questioning things, not sure what to do. My gut tells me that I should do something, and I seem to have to ask someone else for their opinion just to confirm my thoughts. The reality is that I have waited for two years to get to know this man, never expecting to. We are clicking on all levels so far and I am wondering if possibly, just possibly, this could be fate…or is it just a woman looking and hoping to be in a relationship?

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I look at elderly people and I see their white hair, their bent backs, their limps, some of which are slight, others more distinguished. Often you can see the pain on their faces. They have lived full lives of which we can only imagine their stories.

Some people look at the elderly and feel a deep sense of compassion, perhaps even mustering up stories which the said person may or may not have lived. When I see the elderly, all I can think is, “I don’t want to live to be that old.”

I think this is sad and I feel guilty about it, yet it does not change. My great grandmother was 106 when she died. I remember her. I remember the special toilet that was assembled for her use. I remember that she could no longer see to do her precious embroidery. She could not boil water or even peel an orange. She couldn’t even make it to the restroom without assistance. I don’t want to be like this.

I had a very brief period in my life in which I was humbled enough to the extent that I was completely reliant on others. Like my great grandmother, I needed help just to make it into the restroom and to get on and off of the toilet. I could not bathe myself. Although I used a walker, I could not even manage it without assistance. I could not dress myself. If it involved my legs in any manner, no matter how slight, I was not able to do it. I was a self-sufficient, 36 year old single mother who lived in a town with some friends and absolutely no family. As was usual for my personality, when I realized that something was terribly wrong, rather than calling an ambulance as I should have, I drove myself to the hospital – the whole time trying to reach someone at work to let them know that I would not be in.

For three weeks, my parents moved in with me. They left their home, their friends, their jobs, to come and take care of my children and I. Once I was well enough that I could at least shower on my own (with the use of handicap contraptions), my mother returned to her job. My father stayed with me another three weeks and would have stayed longer, but I finally kicked him out.

I had to buy all new makeup for my new medicines caused problems with the old makeup. I had to buy a new car because I could no longer get in and out of my SUV. I had to buy new clothes to accommodate my ever swollen leg and the weight gain that would follow. It’s been over a year and I’m still in the recovery stages. I have permanent damage and will likely struggle for the rest of my life, but I can at least fool those who don’t know me into thinking all is well. In fact, I believe that most of my friends forget that there is anything wrong with me.

I take this relatively short period of time and remember with dread what it was like to rely fully on others and I am reminded again and again that I don’t want to live like that. My circumstances were temporary, but an elderly person only continues to get worse. I want to die while I’m still actually living. Is that really so horrible?

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We hadn’t even left yet when my mom handed me a print off of the map that we would be using to find the fabric store. It was from Mapquest.

Mom, this map is useless. It doesn’t show how to get to the street that we need.

That’s ok. I have been there before. I know how to get there.

Are you sure, Mom? We could take my car and I can use my GPS system.

No, we’ll be fine. Besides, this will be fun.

It was fun, for about the first hour of what should have been a 30 minute drive. It was fun, until I began to realize that not only did my mom have no idea where she was going, but that I, even though I was from out of town and did not know the area, I had a better sense of direction than she did, although she would not listen to me. It was fun, until she wanted to ask some gangster how to find the fabric shop. Ok, that in and of itself was hilarious, but trying to find a fabric store for 2 hours instead of the 30 minutes that it should have taken? Yeah, not so fun.

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My children and I went to visit the family. We had a family BBQ so that “everyone (could) see (me)”.

Both of my grandmothers were there. They are approaching 90. My parents were there. They are well into their 60s. One set of aunt/uncle were there whom I am guessing are in their 50s. My brother who is very loud and we have nothing in common was also there with his 3 children who are considerably younger than my 2.

It turns out that my parents told my grandma not to invite a lot of family because I don’t want all of the noise. So instead, they recommended that grandma invite my aunt/uncle that I haven’t seen in about 20 years. However, my parents have since become re-aquatinted with them. Who was that BBQ for?

I later told my mom that I feel out of place at those gatherings. Her response?

C, you need to just jump in and join the conversation.

My mom and aunt were talking about sewing machines and quilting. I don’t sew.

My brother and uncle were talking about Spike TV. I don’t have television.

My grandmas were talking about some old cat named Jake and bad drivers. Although I don’t know anything about Jake, I do know about bad drivers and my one grandma who is going blind qualifies as a bad driver, yet she doesn’t think so and continues to drive. Probably not a good idea to insert my opinion on that topic.

So Mom, which conversation should I just jump into?

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Do you guys want to do something?

Sure. We can go to Ikea.

Well, I don’t want to walk around anywhere.

Ummm…so when you asked if we wanted to do something, what exactly did you have in mind, Mom?

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