I'm Still Alive...

Hello Peoples.

VERY quick update. I am not here to complain and whinge!

I've been getting emails and comments asking how I am and I just wanted to say THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR YOUR THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS.

I miss you guys!

I'm still not well, the doctors still seem stumped at this stage so I'm still feeling yukky and in pain.

Never fear!

For what it's worth...

I WILL get better.

I WILL have a positive attitude.

I WILL keep my sense of humour.

I WILL be back soon.

Yes I was dead. But I got better. Thanks for asking.

To everyone who has sent me concerned emails or facebook messages these past few weeks. I really appreciate it. Thank you.

I know I haven't been around much, and when I have, my posts have been insipid and meaningless. I'm sorry about that.

I've been trying to get my health under control. I didn't want to come on here sounding like I'm whining again. I wanted to come back and write this wonderful, insightful, hilarious post, and then have everyone come racing back to me, telling me how much you missed me, and that your lives are now complete because of my inspiring words.

However. To be honest, I haven't been great. And I'm not going to sugar-coat it just because some people don't like narcissistic, "poor me" posts. The truth is I'm STILL waiting for a diagnosis as to why I am bleeding and in pain. I had another round of tests last week, another Gastroscopy, another CAT scan, more X-Rays, and, of course, the ever present blood tests. You'd think they'd come up with something more original by now.

I'm exhausted. And I'm pissed.

My arms have been totally massacred, and I look like a junkie.

So. Not. Cool.

See for yourself. This picture is the aftermath of them trying to put in a drip. It's a *bit* blurry, sorry, I took it with my left hand. And I was on drugs. And not even the good ones either.

The drip ended up in my other arm. Witness the beautiful job they did there too.

Oh, and here too.

Moving on...

The general consensus so far seems to be Diverticulitis, a condition that usually affects the elderly. Fan-f**king-tastic. Now I'm getting old before my time. Pretty soon I'll be wearing my pants tucked into my socks and telling Tomika to "turn that bloody music down!" Hang on... I already do that. Shit.

However, to throw another spanner in the works, the Gastroscopy showed three large (I'm talking 1cm each here people!), Gastric ulcers, and lots of polyps in my stomach and intestines. They took a biopsy to check for "the big C" among other things, and, you know, because everyone wants a piece of me, and apparently bleeding me dry like Vampires is no longer enough for them. Now they want my flesh too. Next thing I know they'll have me strapped unconscious to a sacrificial slab cutting me open... Wait... They already did that. I am tossing up whether my doctors are really Voodoo medicine men in disguise, or bloody ghouls. Either way I'm pretty sure I'm a goner.

It's the waiting that's killing me. Not knowing what is wrong. I'm so sick and tired of being sick and tired. I asked the doctors the other day why they didn't just Cryogenically freeze me, and bring me back when they work out what's wrong. I thought that it was a wonderful idea. But they dashed my dreams of being frozen and hung on the wall like Han Solo, by telling me that would defeat the purpose as they needed me to let them know my symptoms so that they can diagnose me. Apparently you can't talk when you're frozen, or so they tell me. Go figure.

Whatever. I reckon they're just sadistic.

Anyway, gotta go. I'm meeting my Gastroenterologist.

I think I'm getting the results of my biopsy... I want to know, and yet some part of me doesn't. Wow, conflicted much?

Wish me luck!

P.S. (Here's a little giggle-worthy pressie for you. These are the undies they made me wear during the procedure, (photo taken before I put them on, promise!), I laughed for at least half an hour.)

Everybody sing, ♪♪I'm too sexy for my undies, too sexy for my undies, so sexy it hurts...♪♪

This Is NOT For The Faint Hearted...

 
Or children. Or married people. Or little old ladies with sensibilities that offend very easily. In fact it's pretty much purely for my own voyeuristic pleasure. Sue me.

You will need sound... and possibly a cold shower.

Ok. I'm done now. Seriously.

I'm obsessed... i.e. Find me a REAL man STAT!

  

Okay so all this doctor ordered rest and relaxation has done wild and crazy things to me and, more importantly... and weirdly... my libido.

In my utterly bored pain-killer fueled internet surfing I have found, wait for it ladies...

The gorgeous Mr Wentworth Earl Miller III*. And he's LEGAL!!! In fact, he's older than me, so more the better. I have actually spent countless hours looking at pictures of him. Pathetic huh? I feel like a moronic teenager with a star-filled-eye crush!

The most beautiful man in the world!
A man so perfectly formed, it's as if he were sculpted by the Gods themselves...



And if that's not enough to convince you, how about this one?

*sigh*

However, until such time as I have a real live red-blooded man that I can touch and...sniff and...stuff.... I am declaring to the world at large.

Ms Befuddled... is in luurve!

__________
* See my post about Prison Break. Apparently Went stuck in my head after watching this for some sexy strange reason...

OH DEAR GOD KILL ME. KILL ME NOW...

Ok. So remember the pain scale* I talked about in my last post? The one where I said I was currently sitting on a (6)?

Scrap that. I had to venture out into the REAL world today. I had to actually DRIVE my old dilapidated manual 1985 Mazda, which is an adventure at the best of times...

So right now I'm hovering around a (13).

I'm pretty sure that means I'm dying.

Tell my daughter I love her.........

___________
* Thanks again to Allie.

SOO... Apparently my poo-shooter exploded.

 

(True story. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.)

Well. After being deathly ill for days on end, and constantly telling the Doctors that something wasn't right... And after treating me for my apparent burst cyst for 5 days, the Doctors in their infinite wisdom realised that I wasn't responding to the meds (if you can call a morphine drip meds. Not that I'm really complaining, it almost made up for it, in a woozy, smiley, "What's your name again? Tomika? Pfft. Yeah right!", kinda way), and that totally didn't satisfy them so they decided to do some more tests.

Big. Bloody. Mistake. Seriously.

After poking and prodding me in MOST unpleasant ways, they finally came up with ANOTHER correct diagnosis. Apparently I don't have a burst cyst. Probably.

I guess, Doc, that I was right, Doc, after all. Doc! I can tell the difference between pain in my girly bits, and pain in my... other... bits. I am not a complete moron. I have had a cyst burst on my right ovary that resulted in a miscarriage when I was younger. I know what that feels like. Doc.

Where is MY Dr House when I need him!!!

So the diagnosis TODAY stands at an infected large intestine, with a side order of inflamed bowel, and a glass of fluid on my left lung. A diagnosis however that despite my best efforts, they didn't come to until after I started bleeding from every orifice EXCEPT the one they predicted, and mostly from my... ahem... back-passage. Go figure.

Anyway, I'm out of the clink for now, I got discharged the other day. But I'm back in on Tuesday for more tests, a Gastroscopy, Colonoscopy, and something else I can't remember the name of but I'm sure will be extremely invasive and forced upon my person without benefit of having been bought dinner beforehand...

Fingers crossed they'll find the culprit and I can commence kicking IT'S butt for a change, instead of it kicking mine. Literally.

(Seriously though, I'd like to thank the nurses at both hospitals for the wonderful care they took of me while I was there. Especially Zac in Austin Emergency who sat and cuddled me while I cried when none of the pain killers were working. And Julie the night nurse at the Mercy Women's who spoiled me rotten, and woke me up every 2 hours through the night for my medications so that I wouldn't wake up in the morning in agony. Thanks heaps. Really.)

With that, I shall leave you with some lovely images of my stay in casa del Mercy, and the Austin plaza for your enjoyment.

Wish me luck!

__________

* The following photo's relate to my previous post. You might want to go have a read if you already haven't. But then if you haven't already read this post, you don't know what the hell I am rambling about, and I should probably just shut up now...

Beautiful beautiful morphine drip, what ever would I do without you...

See those horses? Yes, them. They are NOT horses, they are Unicorns with Bourbon in their horns. And apparently the only way to get the bourbon out is to cut the tip off the horn, grab the mane, stick your hand up it's bum and pour like a teapot... Yeah. I don't know either.

Oh and Jesus there? Minding his own business right? Wrong. He has a skipping rope, and his crucifix is a pogo stick so that he can jump rope... Yep. No idea.

Gotta love that morphine!

I think at this point I should explain my pain situation.

This is a normal pain scale... *1

However, This more accurately expresses how I felt at the time...

Revised pain scale... *2

I fluctuated between (8) and (too serious for numbers). Yeah. Nice huh? Currently I'm sitting on a (6).

Can someone email me some drugs?

__________

*1. Current International pain rating scale. See below for interpretation. *3

*2. Pain rating scale that should be globally recognised for it's accuracy. See below for interpretation. *4

*3. 0:  Haha!  I'm not wearing any pants! 

2:  Awesome!  Someone just offered me a free hot dog!
4:  Huh.  I never knew that about giraffes.
6:  I'm sorry about your cat, but can we talk about something else now?  I'm bored.
8:  The ice cream I bought barely has any cookie dough chunks in it.  This is not what I expected and I am disappointed.
10:  You hurt my feelings and now I'm crying!

*4. 0:  Hi.  I am not experiencing any pain at all.  I don't know why I'm even here.  

1:  I am completely unsure whether I am experiencing pain or itching or maybe I just have a bad taste in my mouth.
2:  I probably just need a Band Aid.
3:   This is distressing.  I don't want this to be happening to me at all.
4:  My pain is not fucking around.
5:   Why is this happening to me??
6:   Ow.  Okay, my pain is super legit now.

7:  I see Jesus coming for me and I'm scared.  (<== Refer to above photo of Jesus, I'm seeing pattern here...)
8:  I am experiencing a disturbing amount of pain.  I might actually be dying.  Please help.
9:   I am almost definitely dying.
10:  I am actively being mauled by a bear.
11:  Blood is going to explode out of my face at any moment.
Too Serious For Numbers:   You probably have ebola, or stomach AIDS.  It appears that you may also be suffering from Stigmata and/or pinkeye

*5.  Pain scale pictures and interpretations by the wonderfully talented Allie at Hyperbole and a Half. Check her out, she's hilarious! And scarily accurate... GET OUT OF MY HEAD ALLIE!!!

This post is brought to you via the Mercy Womens Hospital...

Please excuse the following post, it has been induced by morphine euphoria, and written entirely on my phone. So Tuesday morning (2nd June) I woke up vomiting blood. Not a great deal of blood, but no matter what angle I turned the bucket, it still remained the same. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that the stuff that is supposed to be INSIDE you, not outside? Anyway, I stubbornly told myself that it was an anomaly, and tried to go back to sleep. I would have succeeded too if not for the niggling pain in my mid section. I kept vomiting bits of blood all that day so I made a docs appointment for the next morning. Not expecting anything major, I dropped Tomika at school and went to my appointment. After a VERY uncomfortable and embarrassing visit where he checked out EVERY possible orifice, he blandly said, "Well I don't know what's wrong, but I do know that vomiting blood isn't a good thing so I'm going to send you off to hospital. I'm calling the ambulance now, do you have your wallet and ID on you?" Whoa. Okay... Umm, Doc? Did you say hospital? Apparently he did, because here I am, and have been since Wednesday afternoon (3rd June). I have been poked, prodded and pricked, and not in a good way either! The upside is that I'm on morphine and another drug that does magical things to the walls and apparently creates unicorns out of horse paintings, skipping rope Jesus out of the obligatory crucified Jesus, and turns my young Doctor into an illegally cute McDreamy. The downside is that after a full 20 hours of, "So where does it hurt again? Here and here? That's okay, we can get the janitor to scrape you off the ceiling... Again." they finally told me I have a burst cyst on my left ovary, and I probably have to have an operation to remove it before it poisons me. Fun times. Did I mention the morphine?

Days Of Our Lives - The Coordinator From Hell... Part 2

I'm going to preface this by saying, I am usually pretty level headed about most things, and I deal with them in a sometimes unsettlingly calm manner. And if my friends are any indication, I also give fairly good advice. Unless you mess with my daughter. Or the rest of my family. Or my friends. Or me. But mostly Tomika. 'Nuff said.

I originally had this post as a reply to the nice comments I received on my previous post, but it got WAAYY to long, so now it's here instead. If you don't know what I'm harping on about, you can go here to catch up.

Go on. I'll wait.

All good?

Okay then, moving on.

Thank you everyone all for your lovely comments and emails. It's great to get some feedback from other Mums on this issue. I was up all night after sending the email to Tomika's Coordinator, thinking, "Oh God, what have I done!"

It just really annoyed me that she was so condescending in her reply to my (initial) very polite email about the third new teacher for not only one subject, but three, being Science/Math/Health (same teacher), in three months, and my concern that Tomika was having trouble understanding her. These are critical subjects in her education, herein lies my problem.

I have met this coordinator woman once before at Parent Teacher interviews, and she had nothing good to say about Tomika at all. In fact I got the feeling that she just didn't like her, and she's not even one of her teachers! That's HER problem though, NOT Tomika's. If, however, I find out that my child is being discriminated against because of this woman's opinion or, God forbid, my complaint, she won't have to worry about harmless electronic mail, she'll have to watch her back! *1

The really sad part is that up until recently, Tomika was especially excited to study Science and the many wonderful new avenues the subject was opening up for her. She even went so far as to buy 6 different Science books by Dr Karl out of her own pocket money, before the school year had even started, and she devoured them in a matter of weeks (it took her months to read Twilight). However, that has changed with the commencement of this new teacher. Her interest has waned significantly because of her inability to follow along without huge effort on her behalf. She feels uncomfortable asking questions because then she would have to admit out loud that she can't understand the teacher's accent and, would you believe it, she was trying to spare the teacher's feelings!

I would go in and see the coordinator and the new teacher in person, if I wasn't afraid I might get emotional and bonk them both in the nose! *1

It's bloody frustrating to see Tomika's natural curiosity dampened like that over a stupid staffing issue at her school. You hear about things like this happening all the time, but you never dream that it will happen to you or your child. Tomika didn't have any serious problems at Primary School, aside from the normal testing the boundaries that kids all go through, all her teachers loved her and said she was a great kid who tries her hardest to impress. Possibly too hard in some cases.

Don't get me wrong, I have absolutely no illusions when it comes to my daughter, as anyone who reads this blog can attest. But there are things that you just know about your child, about how far they will go in testing someone, before they are satisfied that they have pushed to the limit. And if I pull her up and question her about something, she usually crumbles into a teary mess and admits what she's done. This time she got upset for a different reason, and I could tell the difference straight away. She was fully indignant that she had been accused of, and punished, for something that wasn't her doing.

Is it any wonder that I'm upset? And now, apparently, I'm also rambling.

Grrr... I can't wait to hear her response!

Stay tuned for the next instalment of Days Of Our Lives. Oh wait... It only feels like I'm in a bad serial TV soap!

__________

*1. Figuratively, not literally. I am actually extremely anti-violence, and quite mild-mannered. Also, infuriatingly, I usually totally back down when confronted by an actual person (hence the email). Give me a pen and paper though, (or in this case, a PC and internet connection) and I will strongly-worded-letter you to death! *2

*2. Well not to death as such .*4 More to distraction. *3

*3. Okay, so maybe not to distraction either. But I'll have a damn good go at annoying you for a minute or two!

*4. I would hate it if someone were to actually die from one of my letters. That would be terrible. Or interesting. A paper cut to the jugular perhaps? Braining themselves on the PC desk? Decisions, decisions... *5

*5. The above point may or may not be a complete lie. Feel free to ignore it at your leisure. Or not. I'm convinced I'm currently totally bonkers and sleep deprived, and I think I'd best take another valium and have a bit of a lie down before I say something completely moronic and undermine all the good I've done in the past 24 hours. Like that. *6

*6. Now I'm confused, what was the question again?

Oh No (S)he Didn't! Tuesday... Pick on my daughter will you? TAKE THAT!

 

Dear Middle School Coordinator,

Thank you for your response regarding my concerned email about Tomika's needing to follow the third-in-three-months new Maths/Science/Health teacher by what is written on the board, because of her inability to understand her or even pronounce her name.

Thank you also for the information, but I am fully aware of the conduct card that Tomika was given. She informed me the same day she got it, and told me of the circumstances under which she earned it. She was very upset about it actually, and believes that it was undeserved. Usually when confronted, Tomika will admit her mistake and accept any set punishment, so in this case I am inclined to believe her. Unless there is another incident of which I am unaware, I think that she was well within her rights to stand up for herself against the transgression that she was charged with, and that the card was awarded to her without adequate proof of her supposed crime. I have taught Tomika to respect authority figures, and accept discipline, but more importantly to stand up for herself and what she believes in. Consequently, I do not view the conduct card as of terrible import in the grand scheme of things.

With regard to your feeling that Tomika is not focussed on her learning, I’ll admit that I’m particularly surprised to hear this. Tomika spends several hours every day on Homework, sometimes becoming engrossed to the point of ridiculousness. I know this to be true because her Homework area is in the same room as me. I have also spoken to Tomika’s teachers, all except the new one, and they assure me that they are all happy with Tomika’s progress to date.

In fact, she has just received excellent grades on both her Textiles and English schoolwork, and upon speaking with her English teacher I was told he was extremely impressed with her dedication and organisation on her recent Images of Greatness assignment. In addition, her German teacher tells me she is doing well and her attitude in class is great, and her Music teacher is so happy with her swift comprehension and completion of set tasks along with her work ethic, she could not praise her highly enough. She has even suggested that Tomika not only come to her for extra work when she finishes her own, but that she help teach the other children when they need help. This list includes her previous Math/Science/Health teacher who didn’t have a problem with Tomika’s work at all, she actually said that her test scores were improving steadily, and she didn’t even remember the incident that you spoke to me about on the phone that you said was so terrible, even when directly questioned about it.

So in respect of these reports, I would be very interested for you to supply me with a list of the areas in which you think that she requires assistance. If Tomika indeed needs as much help in her classes as you suggest, I question why it is that her actual teachers are telling me differently.

Having said that, none of those things are the subject of my concern, nor what I have initially contacted you about.

I can appreciate your assertion that the new teacher is experienced, however I can’t help but question if the reason Tomika is having troubles in the math/science/health classes are due to her not being able to get comfortable, and therefore invest herself totally into the trust of her teacher, being that there has been so many upheavals with teachers coming and going. Please bear in mind that I am not merely trying to make waves on the say so of my own child who is simply ‘having a whinge’, I am also taking into account the reports that I have heard from other parents with the same worries as myself. I cannot be led to believe that every student that has complained about their inability to understand the new teacher is due to their own folly.

I must add, I find it quite troubling that instead of assuring me that you will look into my concerns about the new teacher, and perhaps offer assistance or alternatives for helping Tomika feel at ease with her, you have greeted my worries by merely thanking me, saying she has worked at the school for a few years and is an outstanding and dedicated teacher, and then taking an offensive stance and blaming Tomika’s supposed lack of focus on her learning.

For the record, Tomika has been at Primary school for the past 7 years, and has been an outstanding and dedicated student the entire time. I sincerely hope that this has made you feel as comforted and encouraged as your affirmation has made me.

Thank you.

Kind Regards,

Indignant Mother

Call Off The Health Department, She's Going To Live!

 

Tomika has kicked the virus's butt and is back at school. Thank whatever Deity you like, God *1, Buddha *2, Amun-Ra *3... Batman *4; she's okay. All that angst for nothing.

I feel kinda silly about my last post, I was exhausted and emotional, and after reading it again I seriously considered deleting it. But you know what? I won't, because that's me, uncensored. I mean, the BPD aside, I am an emotional person when it comes to my family, especially my daughter, although I'm not usually such a gutter-mouth! So my last post stands, swearing and all. Although I think I'll add a R+ rating warning to it, just to be sure.

Hang on...

Done.

Tomika may be over the worst of it, but I am feeling the pain. I stubbornly fought tooth and nail against it all week, telling myself, like the little engine that could, I will not succumb, I will not succumb, I will not succumb! I couldn't afford to with a sick child to worry about.

However... this morning I woke up with a cough. Just a small cough, a mere tickle. But a cough none-the-less. I have since taken approximately 15 vitamin C tablets, 2 immune defence capsules, 2 shots of cough mixture, a horse-tablet-sized multi-vitamin, and 3 eggs on toast (for good luck). And it's only 11am. Am I over-reacting? You bet I am. I WILL NOT SUCCUMB!

In the spirit of my melodramatic nature, I have shipped Tomika off to her fathers for a week. I am satisfied that she is pretty well over it, and I refuse to have it circle around to her again if it turns out that I am a germ factory. I am determined to fight this bio-warfare independently.

OH! How's this... The Doctor actually had the gall to tell me to, "keep your distance from Tomika, as she will be extremely contagious"... HA! Yeah right! Hello... Doc? Do you actually have children? Y'know the ones, people, only smaller? You try staying away from your own sick child. It's like telling the sun it's not allowed to come up for a week because the stupid Humans can't stay out of it and are dying from skin cancer. A great idea in theory... Not. Gonna. Happen.

So Tomika is at her Dads, I am stubbornly NOT sick, and it's cold as Dante's Ninth Circle of Hell.

Welcome to Winter baby!

__________

*1. God - When I did a Google search on God it came back with about 381,000,000 results in 0.18 seconds. - Holy moly!

*2. Buddha - A Buddha is a person who is completely free from all faults and mental obstructions. - i.e. Me.

*3. Amun-Ra - King of the gods of Egypt. He is believed to be the physical father of all Pharaohs. - (That's a lot of divine sex. I wonder if that's why all the Pharaohs are buried with their pussies? (Yes, I went there.))

*4. Batman - God of six-pack abs and crotch stuffing.

Damn it! Hurt Me. Just Leave Her Alone.

Firstly - I'm sorry for this post, I'm too drained to censure it, and I have to get it out of my head before the scattered thoughts that are threatening to drink my spine juice and eat my brain from the inside out actually succeed.

 

 

2nd - After a night full of delirium filled with horrible nightmares and hallucinations which included crying out for her Mima (my Mum), Tomika's fever finally broke and she is getting better. Thank fuck. I'm positive there are times when I've been more scared by things before this week, but at this exact moment, I can't think of a single one.

There is nothing worse in this world than seeing your baby, your heart and soul, in pain, and not be able to do anything about it. It hurts. It hurts like hell. Deep down in that place that no one ever sees, that place that you don't even know is there until it starts bleeding, it hurts. It rips out your insides and shits all over them.

But you hold it together, because you have to, for her. Because absolute terror is absolutely catching. And that's the last thing she needs to see. You hold it together because you are Mother. And Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.*

So now that she's on the mend, I can be absolutely, bluntly, honest with myself. She scared the fuck outta me, and I don't like it. I don't like it at all. Where the hell was the chapter on this in that bloody parenting book?!

Jesus, right about now is when I really need my Mummy. I just want to hear her tell me that I'm doing it right. Is that so bloody much to ask? She never told me about this before she left. I don't want to look on the internet for the answers. I don't want to second guess myself about how much and how often. I want to call my Mum and cry and tell her my baby is sick and ask her what to do. Fuck fuck fuck.

Sorry... Tantrum over, I'm ok now.

C - Friday Fatties

Lets lighten the mood a little shall we?

So apparently running around like a chook with it's head cut off after a sick Tomika is not as conducive to losing weight as one would expect. Go figure.

Starting Weight: 82.5 kgs

Last Friday:       81.7 kgs

Loss of:             800 grams

This Friday:       82.2 kgs

Gain of:             500 grams

Total Loss:        300 grams

Note To Self - Lack of sleep and stress doesn't result in weight loss. Actually it causes eat-whatever-you-can-stuff-in-your-mouth-when-you-start-feeling-faint-and-finally-remember-you-haven't-eaten-for-8-and-a-half-hours. With cheese.

Shit hey. I hereby declare this weeks FF cancelled due to lack of interest. Like Christmas.

Oh well. Just call me The Grinch.

_____________
*The Crow (1994)

Call The CDC, This House Is A Quarantine Zone!

I haven't had two minutes to stop and smell the roses this week. Tomika has been sick as a dog with a virus. So the Doctor says anyway. The poor little bugger has had a sore throat, cough, runny nose, aching limbs, and her asthma has been really, really bad. So bad in fact, that I have had her sleeping in my bed so that I can keep an eye on her during the night.

Neither of us has slept much, her because she can't breathe, and me because I'm too scared to sleep in case something happens and I don't catch it in time. Needless to say, we are both exhausted, her being worse, obviously.

She's finally asleep, for the moment anyway, and I thought I'd take a sec to myself to come on and update here before I'm back on duty. If she's still this bad tomorrow, I'm taking her into the hospital.

Bloody hell... Nobody ever told me that being a Mum would be this terrifying!

Naked Blogging Day

For those of you who just got a little excited... No. I don't mean blogging without clothes, although if you want to do that, that's your business I guess. Although I wouldn't personally do it. Probably. Knowing my luck, someone would hack my web-cam and I'd end up being slapped with a lawsuit for indecent exposure. Because it would be. Indecent that is. In fact it would be kinda horrible. So I won't do it. You're welcome internet.

What I mean is blogging without make-up.

Apparently there is a meme going around (courtesy of BlogHer) at the moment that is encouraging women to take a photo of themselves sans make-up, and post it on their blogs.

Now... This is what I figure... I don't usually wear make-up, I honestly can't be bothered, and I am not at all shy to post a photo or two of myself looking, well... shall we say, bare-faced... as evidenced by these - few - posts.

So I figured I would go you one better, and post a picture of myself actually wearing make-up. Yeah, I know. Will wonders never cease? So here you go.

Eeek! Please ignore the un-waxed eyebrows!

As we can all see, not that much of a difference. Now you understand why I don't bother.

The funny thing is... I am actually a fully qualified make-up artist. Yeah I know, who'd a thunk it right? Well when I was 16 I took a make-up artistry course at TAFE, and I've been qualified since I graduated (obviously!) at around 18.

So if you need a wedding done. I can do it. If you are in a movie and need your make-up done for a scene. That's me. If you need a bruise or two, or a slit throat. I'm your girl... I mean... I can do your make up so that you LOOK like you have bruises and a slit throat... I'm not actually going to hit you... Probably... Unless you like that sort of thing... No, that's just silly... Not that there's anything wrong with it... I'm going to shut up now.

Friday Fatties - It's Better Than Nothing!

Well it's weigh in time and I lost weight!

Excuse me for a sec while I happy dance... (Go me. Go me. Go go, go me!)

Okay I'm back.

I have lost, a grand total of... Drumroll please...

800 grams. (Or 1.8 pounds.)

Woo Hoo!

800 grams. Huh. All the killing myself exercising, all the starving myself stupid, and I lost 800-bloody-grams.

Eh... A loss, is a loss, is a loss. I guess. At least I didn't gain weight.

Now THAT would have been annoying.

Ouch!

Okay so apparently I slept upside down and on my neck last night.

Every time I try to move my head even the slightest bit, a red haze enters my sight and I end up in a world of pain.

Grr... I hate my bed!

Mothers Day in the Befuddled Household

Happy Mothers Day Everyone!!!

Welcome to teenage-hood my darling!

Happy 13th Birthday Tomika

... 

At least Mummy loves you!

Friday Fatties and Friday Follow

Okay. So I don't usually mix up my posts into more than one subject. (Well, except for the first few posts I did.) I find it hard enough to keep track of what I am actually writing about, let alone several things at a time! But today I really, really wanted to do a couple of different things, and I really, really couldn't be bothered writing numerous posts... So I decided to give it a try. Here goes.

Friday Fatties

Christie from Mommy Drinks Because You Cry, and Pamela from 2 Much Testosterone have started up a thingy they are calling Friday Fatties, whereby all of us Fat Heffa's come together every Friday (duh) and become accountable for our weight by announcing it to the world at large. (Or in my case, the 5 people who actually put up with my inane ramblings.)

This is my first week of participating, and I hope that it will become a regular thing.

Okay, so here goes. Umm... Ready, and, go! AAANNNDDD GO! (Come on you sook!)

Okay... Take two. And... GO!!!

I currently weigh... As of 6pm tonight... A whopping... (Stop stalling woman!)

82.5 kg.

There. I said it. And no, thankyouverymuchChristieandPamela, I do not feel better!

Wow. 82.5kg. Or 181.9 pounds for all you Imperialists. Come to think of it, I think I'll stick with the Metric system thanks. It doesn't sound quite as bad.

I went to my doctor on Tuesday with this challenge in the back of my head, along with the very real fear that I am having trouble breathing when I lay on my back, and I have heart palpitations when I lay down, and sit up, and generally do anything more strenuous than breathing; and he gave me some pills that help you lose weight. Not diet pills as such, no, nothing as simple as an appetite suppressant, these are MUCH better. These little babies make it impossible for your body to digest fat, and (wait for it)... they give you diarrhoea if you try to eat anything that your body disagrees with!

Great! So now not only will I be deprived of food containing anything resembling flavour, but if I do try to eat something at all yummy, I'll be stuck on the loo for hours as punishment for my sins!

Hmm... Do I really need to lose THAT much weight? Really, really? Maybe I can just tie a long sleeved top around my waist...

Friday Follow

This one, luckily, only requires me to add these buttons, and go and link up at the host site, Midday Escapes.





So after all my angst, I didn't really do much did I? I WAS going to add Mama Ka't's Writer's Workshop as well, as I try to do it as often as possible, but this week with Mother's Day nigh, most of the prompts are about Mums, and I kinda don't want to go there again so close to the day itself...


Just for you, under the TMI label, I've been taking the pills the Doc gave me and my week has not been pretty. Come to think of it, I'm going to have a bit of a lie down now...

Wordless Wednesday - I have NO words for this...

Wordless Wednesday brought to you by the lovely ladies at
5 Minutes For Mum. Thanks ladies!

Okay so y'all don't love me. Except for y'all who do. Now even I'M confused...

 

So my 100-Followers-by-my-Birthday-Goal was a ripping success. I made it to 100 with plenty of time to spare, and now I'm... Hmmm, yes? Huh? I beg your pardon? I, uh, didn't make it you say? But I... Oh... I seem to have failed miserably. Right then.

Now IF I was the type of person to wallow in disappointment, (who me? Pfft.) I would be a blubbering mess right about now. Sobbing and snotting into my pillow, cuddling the cat to within an inch of it's life, wailing "Why OH Why don't they love me?" Luckily for you, and the cat, I'm not. (HA! I may have gotten slightly depressed, and there may have been some snot involved... I'm just sayin'.)

I have decided, instead, to cheat. Now I can hear you all now. Brea? No... She wouldn't cheat. Not Mz Befuddled herself. She has too much integrity! Now firstly let me say, Thanks for sticking up for me. And secondly, You are delusional. Don't you know me at all? Of course I'm going to cheat! I was ALWAYS going to cheat if I didn't make it. It just took me a bit to figure out how... Quiet now, hear me out! This way, I get my 100 Followers, and don't die in a crushing wave of defeat... And you get prezzies.

So we all win really.

I have managed to scrabble together 77 Followers on my blog page via Google Friend Connect. 77 Amazing and Wonderful people who don't mind if I call them names, and tell them I don't love them on a semi-regular basis. (When they know I totally do.) HOWEVER. I have also managed to attain 30 magnificent Followers via Facebook NetworkedBlogs, (buggered if I know how!?) and I am ABSOLUTELY counting them too.

SOOO... 77 + 30 = 107. FIGJAM baby!!!

I am still deciding on the prize to be given away, it will probably be either a CD of myself singing songs with the word 'Toilet' in the title, or an 64 page album containing photos of my cats. It's a big decision so I'm not going to rush it.

Stay tuned for the big reveal!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!

Brea's not here at the moment on account of IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!!

YAY ME!

I'm 36 today and not ashamed to say it. I love that I'm getting older, and that my misspent youth is behind me.

That's All.

See you tomorrow!

Writers Workshop - PIMP My Back!

30th April 2010

4.) The world is going to come to an end unless you get a tattoo that covers your entire back. Describe the tattoo you’ll get.

Okay! NOW we're talking!

This is a prompt I can definitely sink my teeth into.

Be prepared for me to gush...

I LOVE tattoos. If I was a Super Hero, I would be Tattoo Woman. Seriously. I would LOVE to PIMP my back, and have it return all tricked out, and lookin' fine. .........Mmmm......... (What? Huh? Sorry! I was daydreaming a bit there...)

Now it doesn't matter to me who you are. Male OR Female. Young OR Older. People with tatts are beautiful to me because I see every piece as a story about their life. Each separate design makes up a picture of where they were on their own personal journey at that particular point in time. My Mum (who had several tattoos herself), and I were talking one day with some people who were treating 'we who were inked' differently and looking down on us as if we were lower-class citizens; and she said something that has stuck with me, "The only difference between tattooed people and un-tattooed people, is that tattooed people don't care if you don't have any." Smart woman.

Personally, I happen to think that there is nothing sexier than inked flesh. BUT. I have rules.

• It must have meaning - No off the shelf pictures for me. Preferably self-designed, but if you are not artsy inclined, work with a tattooist. Tell them what you want. They are VERY talented people and can usually bring your idea to fruition without much trouble. That's why they call them 'Tattoo Artists...'
• No partner names, unless they have passed away - There's nothing more terrible than having your at-the-time lover's name tattooed on you... Only to find they are not your soul-mate after all...
• Children's names are okay - Photo's are good too. So are dates of birth, time and birth weight. But no ages, that's just tempting fate!
• Parent's names are okay - Same as above. Also okay are DOD if they have passed on.
• Pet's names are semi-okay - But weird...
• Be 100% certain! - Don't ink on a whim. Carry your finished design around in the viewing window of your wallet for at least three months before you get it done. If you still want it after seeing it several times a day for a few months, you'll love it forever.

(Please, before you all lynch me, bear in mind, the above are MY rules, for myself. If you have your partners name tattooed on your buttocks, more power to you. I just wouldn't do it.)

I have several tatts that I have designed myself. The first is a black panther with wings on my upper right thigh near my hip, that my Mum took me to get on my 18th Birthday. It covers about one-third of my thigh, length-wise. The second and biggest is a tribute to my step-sister who passed away when I was young. It's a picture of her, stylised into a Celtic Goddess and it's on my left shoulder. It takes up little under a quarter of my back. My third tatt came to me in a dream just after Tomika was born. No shit. I just woke up in the middle of the night when she was six and a half weeks old, and started to draw. I didn't stop for about 12 days. Whenever Tomika was asleep, and whenever I had a moment I would hone my design. I ended up spending about 28 hours on it. It's a armband on my left arm, and it sits at just below a t-shirt sleeve. It's also got Celtic influences in the design.

I adore my tattoos. I also have another few to get that are designed and ready to go. They are Tomika, Mum, my 2 nephew's names, plus some other things, my favourite poem (Rudyard Kipling's IF), some literary quotes, along with Celtic and Orchid filler, and extra bits and bobs still to be added. And... (funnily enough regarding this prompt) they all intertwine with my existing tatt on my back to become one single full back piece.

So now you can see why I was so excited to see this weeks topics!

HOWEVER...

If I was to start again, with a blank canvas, so to speak, I would get Michael's tattoo from Prison Break.

*sigh*

Not only is it sexy as hell (and on that back, what tatt wouldn't be! You may have guessed from my rave earlier this Month!), it is just an amazing piece of artwork in its own right. And it has meaning! Amongst that beautiful imagery is a fully formed escape plan, from the map that is integrated into the design, to the size of the Allen Key needed to start it all off. Beautiful.

One can only dream...