Dance to the music of your dreams

When I was really young somewhere between the ages of 5 and 6 I was playing on the floor in my parents living room and when I went to push myself up off the floor when my mom told me to go to bed my shoulder started hurting me really bad!  My mom, who was an LPN, thought at first, that I was over-reacting, buying time, trying to delay going to bed.  Then as she got looking at me she realized that I was not.  Off to the ER we went.  I had dislocated my shoulder.  Simply by pushing myself to standing up.

I’d like to say this was a one-time occurrence, but alas, it wasn’t.  I had really weak joints. Even rolling in bed at night, the weight of the bed sheets would pop my ankles out of joint.  My elbows would not lock in place; they just keep bending the other way.  My knees would bow back pretty far as well.  A well child visit to my pediatrician, Dr. Moore, and I’m labeled “double-jointed”, of course we now that term is a misnomer and it’s really hypermobility.  My doctor recommended that my parents enroll me in dance lessons to strengthen my joints.  This started my life long love of dance.

I was 6 years old when I started dance lessons with Mrs. Gertrude Craig.  I was taking ballet and tap. I loved it.  I loved getting my leotard and tights on each week.  I practiced my routines between classes.  As time went on we moved slowly away from ballet and more towards what they called “jazz” routines at the time.  Even though Mrs. Craig wasn’t dancing anymore she was a fabulous teacher.  She even taught me a few routines in her home for some Grange presentations I was doing.

There was a brief time my brother even took dance lessons.  I was in second grade and he was in fourth.  We had a couple of routines that we did together.  One of them was a tap song and one was a “jazz” routine.  This routine was a couples routine and during it he had to swing me through his legs and pull me back up.  The trouble was, he always bent over so I never could slide through his legs, and I always stopped.  It was Friday night and the dance recital was on Sunday and we still hadn’t gotten it right.  My mom decided she would show him how to do it right and we were practicing in the kitchen and she slid me between her legs.  I slid all right, right between her legs, and my feet slammed under the kitchen cabinet instantly breaking 3 toes on my right foot. SIGH.  Even then I knew….the show must go on.  If you have never danced before you wouldn’t know this but dance shoes need to be tight, especially tap shoes. Mrs. Craig brought me out on stage to introduce me as someone who for the first time was dancing in one of her recitals with broken toes.  I danced a total of 6 songs that day. I performed in the last routine of the day and that’s where I stayed.  I was DONE.  My mom ended up having to carry me off the stage and out to the car. 

Mrs. Craig used student teachers, and one of them was Joni.  Joni was the best.  We were all sad when she went away to college, but we were thrilled when we got to go to Albany, New York to where she was studying to learn from some of her teachers.  Mrs. Craig would bring several students each year and I was honored to go a few different times.  It was during one of these trips that my parents purchase my first pair of coveted high-heeled tap shoes!  Now that was a HUGE deal.  You had to EARN those.  Mrs. Craig didn’t let just anyone have those. Going on these trips to NY were a highlight and I am so thankful my parents were able to make it happen as many times as they did.

Eventually Joni purchased the dance studio from Mrs. Craig and moved the classes to her home.  They had renovated an indoor pool to a dance studio.  We actually had a real dance studio for the first time, instead of a rented basement of the local lodge.  It was great!  The class I was in was considered the “top” class.  We were the #1 class.  We were the A1 students.  I am not saying that to be snotty.  The best dancers were in that class. Andrea Morrison, Heidi Anderson, and Amy Bongiolotti, just to name a few.

When I was going into my Sophomore year of high school I was sitting in my dad’s recliner, curled up with my legs underneath me doing a word puzzle book.  I had been there for a while and when I went to get up, my left knee wouldn’t straighten.  My mom figured I had just sat in that position too long.  After awhile and the knee wouldn’t unlock a trip to the ER was in order.  X-Rays should nothing wrong.  Onto crutches I go until it unlocks.  No dancing for 6 weeks.  Dance classes were starting up in 2 weeks, so I missed the first 4 weeks of class.  I did go and watch, but it wasn’t the same as actually dancing.  Once I was able to return to dancing my knee acted up again, and again I was out for 6 more weeks, at this point I didn’t feel I could catch up, and dropped out.

Over the years I missed dancing. I missed the group activity.  I missed the exercise.  Then I met Hillary Barcomb Bagley. This woman is a spitfire!  She came roaring into my life sometime around 2004ish?  I had met her mom when I was a student at CCV and we hit it off.  Then I would see her once in awhile at Ashley’s a local bar that I would go to once in awhile with my friend Marie, and my ex husband, and others.

Something about this bright red-head seemed familiar.  I had seen her before. But where?  Then she tells me that she clogs.  Oh yeah!  I’ve seen her dance!  I’ve heard her story!  She almost lost an arm in a terrible 3-wheeler accident when she was younger but battled back and is the most incredible dancer.  I’ve watched her in parades, at fairs, festivals, etc.  I’ve watched in amazement and in awe.  I’ve always loved clogging, but hated the outfits haha – those frilly skirts!

Hillary says that she is thinking about starting her group, The Green Mountain Clogger’s Exhibition Dance Team (GMCEDT) back up, and would I like to learn? Ummm YEAH! She started teaching me at the Moss Glen Grange Hall once a week in the summer of 2006.  I would have both of my sons with me.  Eventually Jacob would join in and out dance most of us! 

It was at these weekly classes that I got to know Hillary.  She taught me how to clog.  She brought back my love of dancing.  I finally belonged to something again.  If someone can push you out of your comfort zone it’s Hillary!  She will bring out the best in you.  She makes you want the best in yourself.  She makes you work for it.  She wanted the best for her team and didn’t settle for any less.  As a group we performed from all over Vermont and even into New York. 

Together Hillary and I went through divorces, and re-marriages.  She watched me raise my boys, as I watch her raise her family.  Not many people know the real Hillary.  Some people know “Red”, but that isn’t Hillary.  Hillary is soft, loving, and caring.  She is very similar to my husband and when she gets hurt she hurts DEEP.  She may have a rough and tumble exterior, but inside lies the biggest heart of pure gold. She brought the GMCEDT into my life and all those lovely people who have helped me through thick and thin. 

I had the pleasure of this beautiful woman singing Etta James, “At Last”, at my wedding.  Thank you my sweet friend for all you have done for me.  For ALWAYS having my back. For bring dance back to me, for being a partner in crime, for bringing soup when I’m sick, and helping me move! You are wonderful.  Don’t let anyone dull your shine!

Letting your best friend down.

Over the years friends come in and out of your life.  I would say my first real best friend as an adult woman, was Priscella Wardwell,  (now Desjardins).  I met Priscella when our boys were going to playgroup on Fridays in Randolph, VT. 

I had started going to playgroups when Jacob was about a year old.  They were held every Friday at the Triple E program and it was run by the Orange County Parent Child Center.  Nancy Chase was almost always the one that was running it at the time.  Nancy was also the mom of a girl I went to high school with.  It was nice to have a friendly face because I didn’t really know anyone.  Many weeks it was just Nancy, Jacob and myself.

I had moved to Braintree in 1993 and Jacob was born in January 1994.  Braintree-Randolph area was my ex-husbands hometown.  He knew everyone, and while yes, people are friendly in Vermont, they aren’t very likely to let you into their circle of friends either.  I was extremely shy.  We had one car and my ex took it took it work and I was home all day with Jacob.  Home was located almost at the end of a dirt road in Braintree.  It was a great place to raise the boys, but not a great place when you have no transportation.  I had the car on Friday to go to playgroup! YAY!

Eventually more people started coming and I made some friends.  Marie Huntley (now Norton) came a few times with her daughter and we became friends.  There will be more about Marie later – HAHA, but right now it’s about Priscella.  

Together Priscella and I have 5 boys.  Mine – Jacob 1/31/94 & Chad 3/26/96 and Hers – Jonathan 4/18/94 & Alex 7/7/95 & Ben 9/24/97.  We met when Priscella moved to Randolph and started coming to playgroup shortly after Ben was born.  I had been going to playgroup for a couple of years. At this time our oldest had also started attending the Triple E pre-school program together as well.

When I met Priscella my self esteem was pretty well shot. My husband had cheated on me. We had gotten back together, but never really worked out the underlying issues.  We had had another baby, and of course I gained weight with that pregnancy.  I had a hard time losing the weight after that.  I was battling depression but at the time did not know it.  Comfort food in the evening was my thing.  

Somehow, someway, Priscella and I clicked.  I can’t even tell you how we met, but suddenly we were always chatting at playgroup and when we dropped the kids off and when we picked them up.  We exchanged phone numbers and talked on the phone for hours.  I finally had an adult to talk to!  One day she called and wanted me to come over with Chad before picking Jacob up from school.  I said no.  I wasn’t comfortable doing that sort of thing.  Going to people’s houses, or going to the park, or anything.  She said, to shut up and get my ass to her house.  She knew just what I needed.  I got Chad ready and off we went.  I can’t tell you how many hours Priscella and I talked on the phone, or how many hours our kids played together.  It was a magical time.

 

I know Priscella is going to read this and say – Magical my ass!  Do you remember the yelling and screaming?  Priscella and I were a bit different.  I could sit and do arts & crafts with the kids, and read them books, while stuff like that made her skin crawl.  Seriously though when your living it, it seems to go by so slow, but now looking back, all I did was blink, and it was over!

Then as life does, it starts taking us in different ways.  Suddenly I needed to work.  I couldn’t afford to stay home anymore.  I was working part-time as the Braintree Town Clerk but we were still close.  She then had to start working, but we still had time together.  Our kids are in different schools doing different things, but still we had time for each other.   Then I am working 2, then 3, then 4 jobs.  She is working 2, then 3 or more jobs.   

We drift away from each other, and I miss her terribly.  I get divorced.  I get remarried but she was the one I wanted by my side as my Maid of Honor. I don’t care if we go years without speaking; she is my sister from another mister.  I know she is proud of me for taking these steps to better my health.  Every time I see her I am embarrassed at how fat I have become, like my weight has let her down,  but she is too nice to say that too me, she just hugs me and tells me she loves me.  I love this girl with all my heart and I am proud to be her friend.  She is such an amazing woman!  I LOVE YOU CILLA!

Priscella and I have many more adventures left to have. The best is yet to be!!!!

When your body rejects itself.

This isn’t the first time I’ve talked about bariatric surgery.  I first looked into it in 2008.  I was having my second liver biopsy for AutoImmune Hepatitis (AIH).  Autoimmune Hepatitis is a noncontagious form of hepatitis; basically your body rejects its own liver.  No one knows really why it happens.  It is most common in females age 15-40. My story about how I was diagnosed is below.  what I say, is I just hadn't given it a proper work-out.  I never used to drink that much alcohol until about 2005, that's about when my liver started healing. Weird, but true!

I was diagnosed with AIH in 2003 or 2004.  I was having daily migraines. I went to the doctor for the headaches and when they did blood tests they found that my liver enzymes were way out of whack.  Specifically my AST and my ALT.  They were both up over 200.  Normal levels of AST are 5-40 and ALT 7-56.  They thought because I had been taking a lot of Tylenol for my headaches it was causing my liver to freak out a bit, so I had to not have any Tylenol for a month and come back.  A month goes by and I go back.  Headaches still the same and AST and ALT up over 400.  And my urine is turning a lovely shade of brown. I am scheduled for a liver ultrasound to see what they can see.  They are of course expecting to see a fatty liver, because what else would they expect to see in a 200-220 pound woman.  Nothing shows up. It looks fine.  So off I go to see a specialist.

I go to DHMC where I see a gastro-enterologist who specialized in the liver.  He was dutch.  His name was Dirk Van Leuwin. (Can’t remember the exact spelling of his last name). He suspected I had AIH and had me do more blood tests and scheduled me for a liver biopsy.  There were 2 bloods tests for autoimmune markers.  One was anti-nuclear antibodies, and smooth muscle antibodies.  I tested positive for one and negative for the other.  I don’t remember which now.  For the liver biopsy you are given some happy juice so you don’t really remember it too much, then you spend the day in the hospital on your right side as the liver “heals”.  Unfortunately, I ended up in a great deal of pain and was hospitalized.  

As a result of the AIH I was placed on prednisone.  It took 6 months for my liver enzymes to return to normal. This was called chemical remission.  Once they returned to normal I could then start weaning off the prednisone.  That process took a year.  The prednisone made me gain around 20-25 pounds. I got the fun prednisone moon face.  I was also placed on Imuran, which is an immune suppressant so I was more susceptible to infections.  I did get one once that placed me in the hospital for a few days.  I had to have blood tests every 2 weeks for a very long time.

I saw Dr. Dirk….aka Dr. Dick, for a few years until he moved back to Holland.  One time during a visit he said to me.  You are fat.  Ummm. Yeah I know.  I’m thinking gee dude you’re an asshole.  He says, don’t you want to be a contributing member of society?  I was in tears.  I was working 4 jobs!  4 fucking jobs!  I called and complained about him!  He called and apologized to me, but I never saw him again.  I found a new doctor.  I knew I was fat, but there are better ways to talk to someone about it.

I then started seeing Dr. Tim Gardner.  He opted to do another liver biopsy in 2008, which went much better than the first one.  I had been off all meds for about a year or so at that time.  I am happy to say that I have been in actual remission since about 2007 and they say I should stay that way. 

I asked Dr. Gardner about bariatic surgery and he referred me to the program.  Someone from the program called and talked to me.  At that time my BMI was 39.1 and you needed a BMI of 40. They didn’t consider high cholesterol to be a co-morbidity at that time.  So everything would have to be out of pocket and they told me everything from start to finish would be around $70,000.  Ummmmm not going to happen.  I didn’t even know going out of the country was an option.

I do wish at this point I had pushed harder years ago to have the surgery.  I also wish I had pushed myself harder, and had the will-power to do this on my own.  I can hear people saying, it’s all about moderation, just write down everything you eat, track, track, track.  Work out more, chose better foods.  Trust me I have heard it all.  I’ve done it all and I failed at all of them.  I have been a failure.  I know that. But this time I am going to win!

Monty - My love, My partner and other sappy crap

Some of you reading this blog know my husband Monty, and some do not.  He did not know I was writing a blog.  I told him I was writing a blog, and then I made it public before sharing it with him.  He has been mentioned several times in my blog, and there were personal things in there about him. I’m not sorry for writing what I did, because like I told him, we need to get real, and we need to own who and what we are. I am sorry for not letting him have a chance to read my blog before everyone else did though.  I would never want to hurt Monty on purpose. 

I met Monty online.  I had a profile on a website called PlentyOfFish. I had some pictures of myself and in my profile clearly stated I was a big woman BBW – big beautiful woman, and that I was comfortable and confident in my size (mostly true). I also said if you didn’t have a picture don’t bother writing to me HAHA.  Anyways, you could see who viewed your profile. So I saw this profile had viewed my profile and I viewed his.  It said he was over 6’4” (that’s as tall as the site listed) and his body type I think said heavyset, or full-figured or whatever that category says.  He liked what his profile had to say, so I wrote to him.  I figured why not.  I said, so I see you viewed my profile, but you didn’t write to me.  Didn’t like what you saw?  Or something like that?  I don’t quite remember.

He wrote back, and said that he did like what he saw, but he didn’t write because he didn’t have a picture.  This all started on July 11, 2009.  We chatted back and forth via their email system for a bit then eventually switch to Yahoo IM and stayed up some ungodly hour in the morning chatting. In that first conversation I told him I was divorced, and I told him I had cheated on my ex-husband.  I was completely honest with him. I had no secrets going into this relationship. He did eventually switch on his webcam and take a picture of himself so I knew whom I was talking to. We chatted online everyday that week. Tuesday we talked on the phone for the first time.  During the conversation I said to him, so are you going to ask me out or what? HAHA (yeah I can be bold).  He said, well, I was getting around to that.  We made plans to get together that coming Saturday, July 18, 2009 and go to the races in NH, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.

It was on our second date (to this date, Monty will say that was not a date - we just met at the same place at the same time, but it wasn't a date - whatever!) We found out that we have known some of the same people for the last 20 + years.  He knew them better than I did because my life had taken me in a different direction, but it had brought me back around to this great group of people  It is true, everything happens for a reason.  Monty and I met at the right time, at the right place, for the right reason.

One of my favorite memories from dating was on our third date.  Monty will call it our second date.  We were at the drive-ins in Randolph watching who knows what. I remember the second movie was The Hangover, but the first movie was horrid.  We had his truck and the console was down between us.  We each had a soda in our respective cup holders and were holding holds (for the first time).  About half way through the movie he says fuck it.  He takes the sodas out of the cup holders and pulls the console up and pulls me over to him so I can snuggle in with his arm around me.  He had no idea he said “fuck it” out loud! It was so cute! 

Monty proposed on August 18, 2010, and we married October 1, 2011. Even though it rained on our wedding day it was beautiful!  A gorgeous fall wedding in Vermont in a covered bridge, bagpipes playing in the background thanks to my cousin Todd, it was just wonderful.

Monty joined a pre-made family as I have 2 sons.  I had asked him repeatedly as we were getting serious if he wanted children because I had already had my hysterectomy and was unable to have any more.  He said that he didn’t want any.  He had always known he didn’t want any of his own.  He always said he was scared of babies, because he didn’t know what they wanted.  I believed he would be a good dad, but he gets to skip that hard part of raising kids and gets the fun part of having grandchildren (someday).  Well, he didn’t skip it all because my boys were teenagers when we moved in together.

Monty is a very shy person.  He is very quiet until you get to know him. Some people think he is an asshole.  Oh he has a temper that is for sure! Unfortunately, life events are what usually cause people to be that way.  I’ve seen him get hurt time and time again by people that should be there for him.  When Monty loves, he loves with all his heart. And when he gets hurt, it hurts DEEP, and he isn’t one to forgive and forget.  It takes him a long time to heal.  If he opens up to you and break that bond, you have probably lost it forever. 

I feel extremely honored and lucky to have Monty as my husband, as my partner in life, as, as my soul mate and honestly my best friend. Through him I have learned what a true partnership is.  I can lean on him through thick and thin.  He has seen me at my worst and yet, there he is ready to help me back up. What do I do for him in return?  I push him.  I push him out of his comfort zone all the time.  I make him go dancing, I made him go on a cruise, and together we learned how to ride motorcycles!

Even as we were first dating everyone said we bickered like an old married couple.  We like to bicker.  We even hard-core fight from time to time.  But we always know that there is no one in this world that loves us more than each other. He truly makes my life better.

We will go into this bariatric surgery together. We both need it.  Monty was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes in November 2009 and while it was under control for a while, lately his numbers aren’t so great.  He has last 30 pounds or so, and he has quit smoking (again), but this surgery will be the best thing for his diabetes and his over all health too. 

We look forward to this new phase in our life.  Our new thinner selves, riding our motorcycles and enjoying life!

Am I crazy?

On Friday I went public.  I posted my blog on Facebook for the entire world to see.  My friends and family have been amazingly supportive.  Thank you to everyone who posted or who sent me a private message of support.  It all means more to me than you could possibly understand.

Have you ever tried to find a therapist? In the past I just picked a name out of the phone book and if they had an opening I went.  Wait, did you just read that, did I just admit to having gone to therapy?  Yes.

In my first marriage my husband cheated on me. It was devastating at the time.  I was young, naïve, and thought we had a fairytale romance. He destroyed that.  I caught him in more lies than I care to recount, but this one time, he fell in love.  Or so he thought.  The other times I caught him cheating he lied his way out of and I believed him (stupid!), anyways, this time he admitted to it, he cheated, he loved her and we were over.  It had been going on for a few months.  I had figured it out in the Spring of 1994, but he finally admitted to it in July of 1994.  Jacob was born January 31, 1994.  I was tested for breast cancer in June 1994.  Good times. When I finally told him there was no more denying it he stayed out all night.  He came back the next day to an empty house because I moved to my parents. He moved her in that night.  That’s exactly how much my son and me meant to him.  (Sorry Jacob if you read this). 

*Fun fact fast forward 16 years my youngest son then dates said woman’s (use that term as loosely as she was back then) daughter – YAY! 

Over the weekend my family helps me move some of my belongings out and we take the car.  It was the only car we had at the time and my parents held the loan on it and they weren’t about to let him have it while I went without a car and had a small child.  A few weeks go by with no word from my husband.  Then he calls and says he wants to see his son.  I bring him down to see him the next day.  He says he has made a terrible mistake and wants us (not me), back.  Stupidly I agree to move back, but he has to go to counseling.  In hindsight he just missed his son, not me, and we should have stayed apart then, but then I wouldn’t have my second son Chad and my life wouldn’t be complete with out him, so there’s that.

I find a therapist in town for myself and do marriage counseling as well.  While the therapy wasn’t bad, it wasn’t great.  I still felt that my husband needed counseling on his own, which he never got.  I needed to know why he cheated. Why I wasn’t enough.  All I managed to get out of therapy was that the therapist thought that my husband was suffering from depression, and was battling through being the sole provider to a wife and son and the responsibilities of paying all the bills himself. Hmmmm ok so you stick your dick in someone else?  What was his excuse before we had a child?  Before we had the house?  Oh wait, he didn’t admit to those.

Anyways over the years I did over the years go back and see this same therapist when things got rough.  Things weren’t always rosey in my first marriage.  We put on a great front though.  More often than not, he did his thing and I did mine.  As time went on we grew further apart, and I gained more weight.  (another side note – My husband likes skinny women so the bigger I got, the further away he went). 

As time went on I started spending time on the internet chatting with people. This filled the emotional connection I was missing at home.  Soon, this wasn’t enough, and I did cheat on my husband.  Not a proud moment in my life but I did it.  Then one day my son’s best friend was killed in a car accident.  September 28, 2007. I had to tell my 13 year old and 11 year old that their best friend had died. It was that day that I realized life was too short to be miserable.  I told my ex that I had cheated. 

We lived together for the next 6 weeks miserably until I filed for divorce because there was no fix.  He didn’t want to fix what he felt I had broken, which is fine.  I had many times before wanted to ask for a divorce but didn’t have the guts.  I filed for divorce in November 2007 after 17 years together, and 15 years of marriage.  He stayed in the same house for the next 6 weeks until our first meeting with our lawyers/hearing date at which time he moved to his moms. December 15, 2007. 

Our divorce was not fun.  It wasn’t amicable.  We did not remain friends.  We did try a few times, but now we can barely speak to each other and that is extremely sad.  I will not air all the dirty laundry between us because that will do nothing but hurt people.  My only wish is that we can eventually get to a place that we can deal with each other without high anxiety.

Now, this blog was actually supposed to be about finding a therapist and I went completely off track.  But I guess I felt I needed to get that all off my chest.  So, I am trying to find a therapist to help me in my weight loss surgery journey.

I asked my PCP for some recommendations and he sent me to this website cvmhp.org.  There was only 1 person that listed that they specialize in eating disorders and she doesn’t take evening appointments.  So I looked for addictions.   Then I decided to just read the bio’s of everyone who listed they were taking new patients.  If I liked their website/bio I sent them an email.

This is what the email said:

“My name is Cora Grandfield and I am seeking a therapist.  I am about to join the Bariatric surgery program at DHMC and part of their program is to have a psychological evaluation and a minimum of two visits by a health care provider. Part of MY goals is to seek out a therapist to visit ongoing to establish a relationship to:

#1 find out why I have let me get to the size I am

#2 work on emotional eating

#3 work on loving myself

#4 work on self control

#5 work on making sure that I make this journey successful

More about me.  I work full-time during the day and part-time nights and weekends.  Rarely during the week. But I will need an evening appointment, as getting time off during the day can be difficult.  Missed time from work affects the pocketbook too much.  I have a few chronic health conditions that weigh heavily on my mind.  I have been taking paxil since 1999.  My family suffers from depression.

Let me know your thoughts.”

I wrote to six people.  I did write to the person who did eating disorders, and she wrote and said that she wasn’t accepting new clients and didn’t do evening appointments.  And one other person wrote to say she didn’t think she would be a good fit for me, but then backtracked and said she would see me.  No one else has written to me.  I don’t want to waste my time and money on a bunch of first visits to find the right therapist. I want to find a good therapist for ME.

I need this surgery to work.  I need to be a success.  And for me to be a success I know I need mental help.  Why is it so hard to find the help you need?

Embarassment

Thinking back over the years and how my size has embarrassed my children is mortifying to me.  Children can be cruel and I know that one child (and I am sure many others) picked on my children because their mom was fat.  I spoke to the parents of one child because he lived just a couple of houses away, and while his parents were both very tall and thin, he had an aunt who at the time was much larger than me, and honestly, you should never pick on someone else because of someone else in their family for something they have no control over.  His parents were upset and made him apologize.  I hope it made a lasting impression and he learned not to judge people based on size.

When my oldest son was in the 6^th grade he had a class trip to Six Flags over New England in Agawam, MA.  He asked me to go as a chaperone.  I went and was having a great time.  I love roller coasters and all the rides.  I had on a tankini top and bathing suit bottom and jean shorts.  There was a particular roller coaster where you sat in the seat and your feet dangled.  This contraption came over your head to buckle you in.  I couldn’t buckle it on my own.  The ride operator had to buckle me in.  We were in the very back row.  He had all he could do to hitch the buckle.  At the time I weighed around 220 pounds.  Later in the day Jacob wanted to ride the again.  At this point I had removed my bathing bottom because we had left the water park and just had on regular clothes.  Well, apparently the bathing suit bottom had acted as spanx.  We waited in line and he wanted to be in front.  We waited our turn and got the coveted front seat.  But no amount of tugging and pulling and shoving and sucking worked.  I was too fat to get buckled in.  I had to do the walk of shame in front of everyone off the ride. Heartbreakingly embarrassing. Jacob has always been wise beyond his years and took it very well, and said it didn’t bother him, but come on……..we all know it did.

I don’t have any major stories of embarrassing Chad, but I guarantee I did.  He just never told me and it wasn’t so obvious.  Chad was always my quiet boy, and never would have said anything.   (You noticed I said “was” my quiet boy haha – he did come out of shy shell and into is own) 

My mothers living siblings and their offspring, and their offspring, and their offspring (haha) get together every year for a post holiday celebration.  Every year there is lots of food and lots of games.  This particular year it was my Aunt Bernice’s turn to host the event and it was held in the rectory of the local church.  The chairs are super old and super unsteady.  I had been very careful because the chairs didn’t look very safe to me.  Now many people in my aunt’s family are large.  Some the same size as me, and some are larger.  None of us could be on my 600lb life, but we are big people, anyways.  I was switching back and forth from one chair to another and bam the chair breaks! I go flat on the floor in front of everyone.  Thankfully these people are family and my family is super close and we can all laugh it off, but a few years go by and we are back at this location again and I am reminded again, “Cora be careful of the chairs, remember what happened last time.”  Gee, thanks.  So, yes I am very careful and chose a folding chair this time and not a wooden chair.

I could write for days about being embarrassed because I am fat.  If you are fat, you know.  If you aren’t fat, then you are probably the one doing something to embarrass a fat person, you are snickering behind their back, commenting on what they are wearing, what they are eating, how they walk, what they are doing, what they aren’t doing, what they should be doing, etc.

For example, my husband is also a very large man.  He was that way when I met him, and I fell in love with him just exactly how he is.  He is so super shy, but he lets his size dictate many things he does in his life. If we go somewhere and there is a buffet style for food (funeral, wedding, graduation, etc) and he doesn’t know many people he probably won’t eat, or will put very little on his plate because he doesn’t want to be judged on what he puts on his plate.  When we go shopping together we will park the farthest away from the store because he is afraid that if he parks closer people will comment about that lazy, fat, slob, being too lazy to walk. 

Most of this is stuff he has created in his own mind, but unfortunately it is also based on fact.  We see the looks from people when we walk.  We see the looks from people when we are out to eat.  We see people looking in our shopping cart at the grocery store. If only they knew what those looks did to our hearts. 

Daith Piercing

Last year it was everywhere you looked on Facebook and Pinterest.  Getting your daith pierced is supposed to cure migraines. In an earlier post I said I suffered from severe headaches from Idiopathic Intracranial Hypertension (IIH) but I also suffer from migraines. 

Over the years I have pierced my ear lobe a few times.  I had my first holes put in at age 13.  At some point I put in a second hole and then a third hole.  The third hole has closed now.  I also have the cartilage pierced in my upper left ear.  At one point I even pierced my nostril.  Twice. 

After months of researching and a few people I know getting it done I decide I want to get it done.  I figure it can’t hurt.  I know someone who is an amazing piercing and does holistic piercings so I contact him.  While he hadn’t exactly done a daith for migraines he is willing to do so.  He is running a piercing special, so I schedule my appointment.

I call one of my best girl friends and we make a day of it.  The tattoo-piercing shop is about an hour from my house.  We get to Washburn Tattoo in St. Johnsbury, VT commonly known as St. Jay and settle in for the wait because he was running a rocking special.  It was my turn and the smiling face of Thomas Blackfeather greeted me.  He gave me the biggest hug.  It was awesome because I wasn’t sure he remembered me from a few years ago.  We chatted a bit, caught up on each other’s lives, as he got prepared, he handed me some crystals to meditate with as he did the piercing.

He popped the needle through the top of the daith and it didn’t really hurt, but as he pushed his way through the bottom did hurt.  It is right in your ear and you can ear your skin pop and break.  This is what it looked like freshly pierced.

I had a raging migraine as I was getting pierced.  A level 7, about an hour later I would say it was a level 4, and a few hours later it was barely there.  I got this piercing done on November 14, 2015, in the last 5 months I have gone from having daily headaches and 3+ migraines a week to having had maybe 1 migraine a month, and just a handful of headaches.  I definitely recommend this. 

I have another tattooist/piercer friend and he says it is just a placebo affect.  He says this to me whenever he changes my piercing for me.  The last time I told him to shut up and take my $10, $5 for my new earring and $5 for your time.  Let’s just say I won’t be back. 

He is closer, and it was much easier to go to him whenever I lost the ball off the bottom of the earring (which I did twice).  But the last time I had him put in a hoop and I LOVE THE HOOP.  He said it would be harder to keep the hoop in, but so far I have had no problem keeping the ball in the hoop.  When I change it out I will go see someone else.

If you are on the fence about this piercing, I recommend it.  If it doesn’t work for you, then you can always take it out.  Or keep it and have a cool piercing. 

If you can't laugh at yourself...

TMI warning – this post is vulgar, and graphic!

One thing I haven’t talked about is I am a mom.  I have 2 WONDERFUL sons.  They are 20 & 22.  They are handsome. 

 Chad - Age 18 (he is 20 now)

 Jacob - Age 22 and his gf of 5 1/2 years Sabra

See.  Told you they were handsome!

And they are amazing.  Yes, every mom says that.

My boys were both good size babies.  My first born, Jacob Dean was born January 31, 1994 weighing in at 8lb 10oz.  Chad William came 26 months later on March 26, 1996 at a whopping 9lb 14oz.  After Chad’s birth I was diagnosed with fibroids and varicose veins on and around my uterus. My uterus, cervix and one ovary were removed in August 1997 when I was 26 years old.

Now as other mothers know laughing, coughing, jumping, and sneezing can be an adventure.  Add the fact that you had larger babies, and you are over-weight and you don’t have a uterus to hold up the bladder it’s the perfect storm!

I met my husband Monty online in July 2009.  In late September I got bronchitis.  With bronchitis comes heavy coughing.  With heavy coughing came lots of leaking.  I was having to wear depends.  Yeah…….that is sooooooo sexy! Just starting to date someone and you are wearing depends!  Explain that I dare you!  Obviously it all worked out because he did propose a year later and has stuck by my side through all my health issues.  He is a trooper!

2012.  I am TIRED of peeing myself all the time. There isn’t much I can do to stop myself from peeing myself.  I did kegels until the cows came home.  And nothing was helping!

When I had my physical my doctor referred me to physical therapy.  Yes, physical therapy.  I went to my first appointment in comfy clothes as suggested wondering what exactly are they going to make me do.  They had me do deep breathing exercises. Stomach breathing. 

Then I was given a small round object.  It was about the size of a nickel and about as thick as a cell phone.  It was attached to a long wire.  This was to be inserted into my vagina.  This would be attached to a machine and then I would do my kegels and the machine would record the strength and intensity of them while a lady watched me.  Fun times.  I was told that I had very strong muscles and that wasn’t my problem. So I was referred to an urologist.

Off to the urologist I go.  They have you drink a specified amount of water in their waiting room.  I don’t remember how much it was.  Then, you go in and use the restroom, and then they do an ultrasound to see if you emptied your bladder completely. Up into stirrups, and they “cough”.  Seriously?? I thought that was for guys?  Turn your head and cough.  So I do as I am told and proceed to pee everywhere.  Yeah…fun times. I am told I need bladder neck suspension surgery.  Remember in my last post when I told you to youtube knee replacement surgery. DO. NOT. YOUTUBE. THIS. SURGERY. You will never sleep again, especially if you have to have this surgery. 

This surgery is done via your vagina and several small incisions in your tummy.  Good times.  The reason I was given for needing it was because my bladder had basically fallen over backwards because my uterus was no longer there to hold it up in place, thereby stretching the bladder neck.  Picture this. You blow up a balloon.  You stretch out the neck of the balloon.  What happens? The hair slowly leaks out, but when put under pressure (weight, cough, sneeze etc in human cases) the air (urine in human cases) squirts out).  This makes complete sense to me!

I had my mom come with me for my pre-op appointment, because she would be taking care of me when I went home.  This surgery is a same day procedure, but you do go home with a catheter for 2-3 days.  My mom is a retired nurse and I volunteered her to help with dealing with this.  What I was not expecting to happen at this appointment was to be up in stirrups and to have the doctor say, see mom, come look at this!  Go ahead – COUGH.  See how everything bulges out like a moose knuckle?  It’s not supposed to do that. We are going to stuff it back it where it belongs. Ummmm.  Thanks? My mom hasn’t see my cooter since I was baby thank you very much and I doubt she needed to see the moose knuckle version of it. HAHA. OH well.

Then, we get the pants back on and get talking about life after surgery and post-op care.  He says, so I see here you have been married less than a year. Yes.  That is correct.  Well, you are practically a newlywed he says.  My mom is still sitting beside me at this time.  You tell your husband he can give you all the orgasms he wants, but he can’t stick anything inside you for 8 weeks.  You are going to be too sore, and your stitches will need time to heal.

Oh boy!  I am thankful I am 40 something years old and am a very open person, and not all that shy. My mom, of course, being a retired nurse wasn’t bothered at all either. 

The day of the surgery the doctor told my husband the same thing.  My poor husband though IS shy.  And the doctor added, now you’re an awfully big man (he stand 6’6” and weighs over 350 pounds), you don’t go sticking anything up in there and go hurting that girl, but go ahead and give her all the orgasms you want.

Post op for this surgery isn’t all that fun.  No lifting anything over 5 pounds for 6-8 weeks.  It was slightly more painful than I thought it would be, but I am so grateful that I had it done.  No more peeing when I cough, run, walk fast, jump, sneeze, fart, etc.  I can laugh at jokes and not worry that I will be the reason every one continues to laugh because I’ve peed my pants.

In short, this was the best surgery ever, so far.  Hoping the gastric surgery will be the best one.

Why Can't I breathe!?!?!

Fat People Disorders.

Asthma.  I never had asthma.  Last fall I was hospitalized with cellulitis in my left leg.  Yeah, the left leg that had has the knee replaced.  I had fallen in June and received a nasty bruise  and battled edema ever since. 

Who knows why I got cellulitis but I did.  Here is a pic of that lovely incident.

Anyways.  While in the hospital for this just getting and forth from the bathroom was a struggle to breathe.  It was horrible.  I mentioned it but no one seemed to care.

I get home from the hospital and walking from my car to my front door is unbearable.  It is at a slight incline.  I can’t breathe!  I am out of breath all the time.  What the heck!  So at my follow up I ask my doctor and he tells me that I have probably developed asthma.  Adult onset asthma brought on by, you guessed it OBESITY! Because why else.  I was then ordered to have 2 different inhalers.  At first I had to use one every morning and every night, and the other one 4 times a day.   During the first couple of months I had a few asthma attacks – fun times!

After a couple of months I no longer had to be so strict with the inhaler use.  Then I got pneumonia in January.  So, I went back onto the inhalers for a bit.

Of course maybe if I didn’t have 20 pounds of tits on my lungs I could breathe better. Oh wait, they wouldn’t be there if I wasn’t fat!  SEEEE….it is all because I’m fat!

Generally, the asthma doesn’t cause too much trouble but there are things that cause it to flare up.  I carry my inhaler with me just in case, well, most of the time.

So here is another thing I will be able to cross off my list when I start to lose weight.  No more asthma.  Being able to breathe!  Exercising is hard when you can’t breathe.  And believe it or not my 300 pound @$$ does exercise.  Granted not as often as it should but it does do it. It may not be pretty but I do it.