Monday Musings With Dissy: episode 4

Yesterday, when Barb and I put it out there for our Facebook friends to suggest topics for us, my friend Val threw one out there that I though may be more fitting for a solo blog, so, today, I’m going to write about the differences between life as a “thin” person and life as a non-thin person.

Val and me at a 5k event a few years ago.

There are good and bad things involved in being a person who has lost 100+ pounds. At the end of the day, I have to say I prefer being on this side of the fence, though. Mostly, it’s for health reasons. Anything I could have claimed that would fall under the category of vanity was snatched away by the monster called “aging.”

On November 25, it was my fifth anniversary for having gastric bypass surgery. I usually announce this to anyone who will listen because it was a life-changing thing, for me. Not because it made me pretty, because I really don’t think it has, but because it took away a lot of problems I had. Every weight-related health problem I had prior to the surgery has gone away.

High Blood Pressure
beginning stages of diabetes
sleep apnea
myriad aches and pains

Those were the kinds of things I was looking to get away from, as it was really impactful, to me, to have my family doctor tell me if I didn’t do something, I was going to die. Honestly? for that purpose, it really helped me to have a blunt physician. Had he not put it the way he did, I may not have sprung into action. It was also impactful the day the bariatric clinic doctor told me that, if I do die, it will not be because of my weight.

I’m considered a huge success by the clinic. I love knowing that.

There are also certain vanity-related perks to being smaller. It feels good to buy jeans with a single digit size number. It feels good to fit better in just about any space you can imagine. This summer, I flew to Iceland on a very crowded flight, and I didn’t feel cramped or like I was crowding out the people sitting next to me. Five years out, though, I still find myself moving out of the way in situations where I really don’t need to move.

I don’t know whether or not weight loss gets me more male attention. I never noticed these things before, and I really don’t notice them now. It’s not that I expect or don’t expect attention, it’s that I’m classically oblivious to it. You really have to almost carry around a billboard saying “Hey, Dissy, I’m totally checking you out.”

I was with my ex when I had my surgery, and we just broke up this past spring. I haven’t been emotionally ready to dip my foot in the dating pool, so I don’t know what the outcome will be or how it fits in because of my size. Prior to surgery, I never had guys tell me I was too fat for them. If they avoided me because of that, I never really knew. That doesn’t mean that I, as a larger female, didn’t blame that, because I did. I think it’s more a matter that growth and maturity has taught me that we are all not going to be one another’s cup of tea than me thinking my size has made me more or less desirable. For me, that’s fine because there are certain traits that I find more or less attractive as well.

The mental impact of weight loss is very real. I’d have to say that, for every bit of good it has done, something negative has come as well. You have to be willing and able to deal with these things for long-term success. For example, I don’t think I’m a person who has lost weight in a “pretty” way. My skin hasn’t snapped back to where it should be, so there will always be that reluctance and shyness about being naked in front of others, and I feel like I look a lot older in my face. It took a long time to come to terms with the fact that I looked more youthful with a fuller face and I don’t necessarily look “older,” now, I’m just closer to looking my age.

I’ve made a lot of new friends along the way. Friends with whom I have this procedure in common. I had gotten more active over the last 5 years, and I hope to get back to that. It feels great to finish a 5k event. I remember about a month before my surgery, my ex and I were doing the breast cancer walk with my cousins. I couldn’t even finish.

I think I’m one of those odd ducks out there who has changed in different ways and for different reasons. I’m happy for and with what I have. I’m grateful that my risk of heart attack has become practically zero. I’m glad I have not become insulin-dependent. I’m glad I don’t need medication to manage my blood pressure. I’m glad for my increased activity level.

For all those things, I’d do the surgery all over again in a heartbeat.

Now I need to get up off my lazy ass and exercise.

Cent’anni, Bitches!

Reader’s Choice Blog

Patchwork Blog

Methinks that Barb and I need to sit down and plan our blogs a little bit more. The week just sped by, and then Sunday rolled around, and we, again, had no clue what we were going to blog about.

We decided to leave it up to our Facebook friends, and we offered the hefty reward of a mention in today’s blog. We got two responses. We decided to each take one and do a patchwork sort of thing because, you know, that’s what happens when you plan poorly. Learn from our mistakes and stay on the high road, folks.

a crazy combo. kind of like us.

My topic?

Top 10 Things to Do When Snowed In

10. Play in the snow with your dog (if you have one). If you don’t have a dog, then sit on your porch and throw snowballs at the neighbor kids. When they whine to their parents and the parents come yell at you, throw snowballs at them, too. Get to know your neighbors over snowball fights and potential litigation.

9. Realize that your furnace isn’t working and nearly freeze to death waiting for the furnace repair dude to show up. Get mad at me because this will never happen to me because a.) my furnace is brand new and b.) my landlord’s fiancé is a furnace repair dude.

8. Bumper skiing. A parking lot is probably not practical for this in a “snowed in” situation, but your street probably won’t be very busy.  This is another neighbor-friendly activity. It’s much more entertaining than some random-ass barbecue.

ski mask may help with tire spray.

7. Dress your cat in doll clothes and take pictures for Instagram. Do this until the cat is on the verge of scratching your eyeballs out, then give the little dude/dudette a break. In an hour or so? Do it all again.

6. Read your favorite winter-themed book. Ideally, serial killers will be involved.  In the book, not actually in your house. That would kind of suck balls. Unless you managed to handle business, in which case, hide him or her (who are we kidding, most serial killers are dudes.  Hide HIM) in the basement and let the furnace fixer dude take the rap. It’s his fault for taking so long to get there.

5. Horrify Melissa Ann with your response to her suggestion of a top ten list on your blog. Then again, she’s probably digging it because she may just be as twisted with you.

Melissa and Dissy at Cleveland Pagan Pride.

4. Curl up on the couch with the dog/s, cat/s, pythons, hamsters, guinea pigs, turtles, goldfish, etc…, pop a large bowl of popcorn, and watch movies that remind you that it will maybe, one day, be summer again.

3. Shovel your driveway and sidewalks. Do the same for your elderly neighbors, the ones who don’t get around so well, and the ones you like a lot. The ones you only like a little bit get to help you because this is a lot of work if you’re a popular gal/guy. All of the displaced snow gets piled at the end of the driveway belonging to the neighborhood dickbag.

2. Make a snowman murder scene. This is another one where you can involve the whole neighborhood, then you can have a snowman murder epidemic. Make sure to not put your good axes and machetes with the snowmen. You don’t want them getting rusty.

Google Images never, ever lets me down.

1. Spray water on a long stretch of your lawn and take the kids out to play slip ‘n slide. If any neighbor kids want in on this, they have to bring a signed waiver, or their parents can come over and play too. Make sure to set up a beach umbrella (it’s in the shed, you forgetful fuck), and play hula music to set the tone.

Notice: if you’re the kind who needs to be told that this is a joke, then do the world a favor and never get on the internet again.

Now let’s see what Barb is going to talk about…

What did Facebook decide I should write about today?

Monday morning traffic jams, why are we all in such a hurry to get somewhere we don’t want to be?

Thanks Richard, nothing like a good existential crisis on a snowy Sunday 😉

Rick and his lovely wife, Laura.

Obviously, the main reason we all go to work is because we’re not independently wealthy. People have the strangest habit of enjoying things like eating and shelter.

We’ve all heard the platitude about loving what you do so it never feels like work. Which is awesome for the twelve people that actually happens for. For the rest of us, we have to make a living.

Interestingly enough, I read something earlier today about one of those snotty rich people who lose it all and have to live as one of us peasants for a while. These are supposed to be heartwarming tales of lessons learned, but I’ve always found them infuriating. Why would we be proud of some dickhead for finally realizing us poors are human when they become one?

Getting back to the original question, we’re rushing because we’re irritated that we have to go slog through another week, yet grateful that we have a job to get to. Which is the perfect mixture to cause all of us to be crab-asses. And probably the reason Jay won’t let me drive a monster truck. Or a tank. He never lets me have any fun. (from Dissy… and it’s just another way we are trying to rush the week away.)

He never lets her have any fun.

I’m all, “That would be so awesome!”

And he’s all “We don’t have bail money!” (from Dissy: you mean like when we leave the house together?)

See what I put up with?

Hope your commute goes smoothly, and one day we get to have monster truck races!

Cent’anni Bitches!

WTF Friday: vol. 6

What’s that Smell?

For those of you who’ve been paying attention, I’m sure you just knew we’d have to talk about this mess:

Gwyneth Paltrow Sells ‘This Smells Like My Vagina Candle’ On Goop Site

is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Goop has been THE place for overpriced, batshit crazy stuff that no reasonable person would have thought existed, but we’re on a whole new level here.

Apparently, the candle smells like geranium, bergamot, cedar, damask rose and ambrette seed.

Setting aside the fact that it should not take an entire paragraph to explain the scent of a candle, Gwyneth, your twat does not smell like this. No one’s twat smells like this. It sounds like what someone who has never been near a human vagina might think they’re supposed to be like.

And the best (worst?) part. This thing is SEVENTY-FIVE FUCKING DOLLARS!!

Personally, I’ve pretty much given up on humanity, what about you Dissy?

My biggest question, Ms. Paltrow, is “does your vag smell that good, or that bad?” To me, that’s not necessarily a combination that’s going to smell wonderful. I am, however, willing to be wrong, but I’m thinking “over-priced shit-stain” would be a more suitable name.

I think, however, we oughtn’t speculate on Gwyn’s vag. We don’t know. Maybe it does smell like that. Maybe the teenage boys should coin a new phrase. When I was a youngster, it was “you smell like fish.” Maybe now, it could be “you smell like Gwyneth Paltrow.”

I’d probably buy a candle with that label just because I find it amusing, but seventy-five fucking dollars? No. What the hell are people thinking spending this kind of money on a goddamn candle? Me? I’d have gone for the jade egg.

This is a much better value at 39.99.

Until next week, folks!

Cent’anni, Bitches!

Tandem Tuesday: chapter 5

Emily Rose Calhoun was having the time of her life. She and Kat had been on many vacations together, but she went out of her way to make this one special, for it very well could be their last.

“Breathe, ol’ gal… breathe. You don’t know yet what will happen.”

Remembering the plane trip, Em had to chuckle. That offer to pay her back? What was Kathryn thinking? Well, it had to be that fierce independence; she was so like Gayle that way. Kat certainly did want to make her own way in the world, and there was nothing wrong with that. Hard work and determination are never bad characteristics to possess. Even when you will inherit the family fortune.

Em had never been one to flaunt wealth. Certainly, she and Kat had lived a comfortable life, but she was pretty sure that her granddaughter was not fully aware of the extent of their wealth; otherwise, Kat wouldn’t have acted like Em was like any other senior on a budget.

“Pay me back.  Pfft… dear one, it is I who owes you more than you will ever know.”

When Kat came to live with her, Em stepped down from the board of her family’s charitable organization. “Retirement,” is what she called it. She wanted to make sure she was always there for the granddaughter who had lost so much at such a young age.  And she always was. Without fail.

“But how am I going to tell her?” the thought plagued her.

Any way you sliced the pie, it was time to tell Kat everything. She deserved to know.

Em knew she still had a great many years ahead of her, so it’s not like it would be a deathbed confession. She just needed to have done with it so she and Kat could live the rest of their lives with the absolute truth between them.  Maybe then, she could get Kat to come home. The house was so empty without her.

Em’s mind was made up. Before she and Kat got back to the airport, she would know everything.

She would know about the money, about the “rift” between Em and Gayle, and about the gifts Kat possessed but had yet to unlock.

“Okay. Your mind is made up, ol’ gal, get your ass back into the present moment and enjoy this vacation.” It would not be the last. Em would see to it. She would find a way to make Kat understand and not resent her.

Looking over at her granddaughter, Em said, “Whatever we do tomorrow, let’s make sure we are doing exactly this at the end of the day.”

“Twist my arm,” Kat replied.

Nothing beat these sunsets. They were amazing.

“Besides,” Em continued, “I have some things to discuss with you, and I can’t think of a more lovely place to do it.”

“Why can’t we talk now, Em?” Kat wanted to know.

“It’s business related (not exactly a lie because some of it was business), and I want to remember today just like it is now.”

“Okay,” Kat said, only a little worried.

“Cheers, Dear One,” Em said and raised her frozen Pina Colada toward Kat.

“Cheers, Em,” Kat replied, and clinked her drink glass against her grandmother’s.

“Now,” Em mischievously said, “Let’s check out some of these fellas on this beach.”

…to be continued.

Cent’anni, Bitches!