ammogirl

So the boob ultrasound (which I have to so clarify, lest anyone, ANYONE thinks I’m pregnant. Nope. I’d rather have lumpy boobs than bun-in-oven, because hi, I’m waayyyyyy past the baby stage, thanks much) went fairly well. The tech said SHE thought it looked like a cyst, but she doesn’t read them, and she can’t really tell me anyway. I will call the doctor…I guess tomorrow, I have to say I sort of forgot about the boob issue…and find out what he thinks. And now can I be done talking about my boob? I mean, I realize it was ME who brought it up in the first place but there are different levels of talking about me, as in, there is talking about me and then there is talking about ME, and I don’t like the boob level of me.

Anyway, my Harry Potter came in on Friday, and I finished it yesterday, and I loved it. I am a little sad it is done, actually, both the book and the series itself. There was a funny moment when John said, “So how is your book?” and I looked over, tears welling in my eyes and having to sniff sniff sniff every second and said “It’s sooo greatttt!” and he gave me a look of you-are-crazy. I tell you though, for being a girl with little-to-no compassion, I sure do tear up at books and movies, at the drop of a hat. If I can sense that someone is going to sacrifice something for somebody, it instantly makes me sob a little, and do that little breathing thing you do when you don’t want anyone to know you are crying. When John and I went to see the third installment of Lord of the Rings, I started crying about 20 minutes into the movie and literally did not stop until we walked out of the theatre. It was ridiculous. I cried during Terminator 2, for god’s sake.

Today at work we started our own Biggest Loser, and the cool thing is we are going by percentage of body weight lost, so pounds won’t matter. Everyone is trying to lose about the same percent, including me, even though my percent equals about 6 pounds and everyone else’s is around 20. I was sort of on the fence about entering, but the pot is up to $180 at this point, and 6 pounds is worth $180, I think.

Of course, the word diet becomes a curse word starting Thursday, when the fabulous vacay/birthday celebration starts (and is it so very nearly my birthday? Yes it is!) because to the best of my knowledge, tropical drinks are definitely not of the diet-type. However, living amongst the bikini-clad for 7 days is a natural food inhibitor anyway, so we’ll see. All I know is the day after we fly back, John flies out to the states for 3 weeks, that fucker, so I will be able to totally watch what I eat, and take home the big prize on the 30th of August.

Man, I tell you, summers sure don’t last very long around here. It was 45 degrees this morning, and barely made it to 65 for a high today. I’m already starting to pull out the sweatshirts.

Oh shoot! I have other things I need to do! Gotta run!

Tschuss!!

I started this morning off with the discovery that there was no hot water.  This meant no shower, which meant…ew.  I don’t like not showering, it makes me sad.  But like a good European, I sponge bathed, applied twenty-three layers of deodorant, and then headed off to the first business of the day:  Root Canal, part 2.  Ugh.  I mean, the only part that actually hurt was the stupid shot, but still…ugh.  Actually, my face just became un-numb, and it hurts a bit, my mouth, but I don’t like to complain.  Ha ha ha!

So, I went to the doctor on Wednesday, and after looking around a bit, he decided he wants to remove the lump and biopsy it.  I am going this afternoon for an ultrasound, I guess to make sure it is not a cyst, which the doctor (Dr. Magoo!) is certain it is not.  If it IS, though, that would be fabulous, because then they wouldn’t want to take it out…taking it out causes a scar and leaves a dent in my boob.  And yes, I know, no time to be vain when you are dealing with lumpy boobs but still…I mean, its my boob.  I LIKE my boob just the way it is.

I won’t lie and say I wasn’t a bit scared when he told me all that.  I mean, I know statistically the odds are in my favor that I do not have…you know…but still.  When a doctor says to you in regards to a lump located in your boob “There’s a less than 5%…10%…I’ll say there is a less than 15% chance that is malignant” there is a voice in the back of your head that says “15% is still a lot”.  But during lunch that day I googled extensively and really did come away feeling more calm.  The facts out there are all pretty clear on this, and, I honestly have none of the risk factors for breast cancer.  By default, I’m fine.

Have you noticed that I have the weirdest medical history?  I swear I don’t make this stuff up…maybe I go to the doctor sooner than most people would for pain, but that’s just because I’m a ginormous baby.  But all of my stuff turns out to be some…’thing’.  GERD, gimpy back, lumpy boobs.  Oh, and repeat root canals due to my freakishly long tooth roots.  I’m sort of weird, I think.

Remember when everyone loved the band Creed, and then everyone hated them?  Well, one of their songs is on the radio right now, and I really tried to conjure up some hate for it but in the end I thought “nope.  still like it.”  I don’t understand music snobbery, I guess.  I generally like most music, and what I don’t like, I don’t necessarily hate, but I’ll still listen to it if its on.  Well…okay.  Maybe not opera.  I do like some genres better than others, for example, 80s music, and I do have my favorite bands, like O.A.R., the greatest band ever in the entire universe and all universes beyond that.

…oh wait.  I wrote that whole paragraph and then remembered that I don’t like Carrie Underwood at ALL.  Never mind.  However, I still don’t get music snobs.  On a side note, every time she (Carrie) is on the radio I have to say “Oh look!  Carrie Underwear!”  Please don’t ask me to explain why, it’s out of my control.

I got a package notification from the post office yesterday, and I was so excited, because I was sure it was my Harry Potter finally, FINALLY arriving.  However, instead it was an order of Coins for my Booster Club.  It was like the biggest fake out ever.  Do you know how HARD it is to avoid reading/hearing/seeing anything about that book?  Its like a full time job for me at this point.  Now, could I have already had the book?  Well, yes, if I had stood in line at the Ramstein BX at midnight when it came out.  However, you will never find me standing in a line at midnight for anything, so.

I should probably go now.  It seems I’m doing that rambling thing again.

Have a great Friday!

Tschuss!!

Okay, so, today I was at work and and I had a small itch on my back. It was in the general vicinity of the area where my bra strap joins the back of the bra…you know that part? I know you do, even if you are a guy. Its not rocket science, its a bra. Anyway, so I reeeaaached back to scratch and felt…a roll of fat! You guys! Back fat! I have never had it before. And I’m not trying to be like “…ohhh I’m so thin I’ve NEVER had back fat!” either. Look, I will be blunt. I have a big ass. My weight really, reallllly likes my thighs. My hips are definitely the child-bearing variety. But my upper body has ALWAYS been small. Stick arms, bony chest, small waist. Even when I was pregnant I looked anorexic above the waist. So the advent of my bra cutting into my flesh…its a big deal, okay? I swear, since I have been back from my vacay, I have gained at least 5 pounds, and I’ve been dieting and working out HARD.CORE. Like today, it was pouring rain, and I still went running! I was drenched! It sucked! But the back fat! Sighhhh….I’m bloaty, I’m cranky, I’m simultaneously wanting to eat and having absolutely no appetite, and I’m tired because I spend each night laying in bed radiating temperatures of at least 4688 degrees and dealing with drenching night sweats. Its so gross. Sometimes…I wish I was a guy. I hate these women-type things.

But whatever, not your problem. I just wanted to whine a bit. So, thanks! You’re the best!

I have sat down a couple times to write about my stay with my parents but, look. There was me, my two sisters, and my parents. When I say we did stuff only family can do around each other, I mean it. Did you SEE the picture of me and Toni with a bra on our head? Yeah. Anyway, it was an awesome time. I have never laughed so much in my LIFE. And absolutely none of it would be funny to you, because its family stuff…in particular sister stuff. It WAS funny when we went grocery shopping, my mom and sisters and I, and had a cute bagger boy named Garet, who had to have been all of 16. We flirted with him OUTRAGEOUSLY, and then as he was loading up the back of the van, we all stood in a semi-circle watching him…in a bit of a predatory manner, you might say. I’m sure he was…scared, actually. Anyway, if you live in the West Salem area, and you visit the Roth’s on Wallace Road, be sure to say hi to Garet the bag boy.

I promised to tell you the other story of my warped genetics involving fitness and working out. You will remember the walk my sadistic mother dragged me on, yes? The 9.3 miler? Her “short” walk? Yeah. Well, on Friday morning I was supposed to go on ANOTHER walk with her and my sister Kathy, but I had a bout of puking in the middle of the night (NOT alcohol related…I believe it was bad shrimp) and slept in until…okay, it was only 8:15 but still, I was the last one up, and they had already been and gone. I was a tad bit disappointed (but secretly relieved, I mean…I’m not crazy, okay?) but then around 10-ish, my dad said, “hey, girls (girls meaning Toni and I), do you want to go on a walk NOW?” “SURE!” we said, because this was my dad, and HE said we were just going on a short walk (i.e. 5.5…MUCH better than 9.3). So off we went, and…Toni and I ended up RUNNING the entire time to keep up with my dad, Mr. LongStride McFuckingFast. Seriously. My dad walks faster than most people run. We walked (or ran…semantics, really) 5.5 miles in SEVENTY-ONE MINUTES. You guys, that is 12.9 minutes a mile…WALKING. It was worse than the 9.3 miler! And you know what’s worse? My dad has not walked for MONTHS! This was his first time out!

My dad, by the way, is going to Mobile, Alabama in April 2008 to compete in the USTA League National Championships. He and his doubles partner kicked ass all OVER the Super Senior (over 60) court in June. So basically, my parents are more active and in shape than I am, is the moral of this story, and I don’t ever want to hear another word about how weird I am that I like working out so much…its not my fault.

Anyhow, I need to mention two things, both of which you already know but probably need to be reminded about: one, I am going on vacay next week to the island of Tenerife, which is in the Canary Islands. We are staying here. Umm..not that you will actually follow that link or anything, but if you do…you’ll need to click on the Union Jack on the left to translate it. Also, item number two, which is in the “extremely” category of important, is that my birthday is in 11 days.

Whew. That was a long one.

Tschuss!!