I’d make a crappy mother theresa
June 7th, 2010 § Leave a Comment
There are a few things my body isn’t built for things like; skinny jeans (my hips throw off the proportions), balloon skirts (because I am over 12 years old) and fasting. I had every intention of fasting this week. I started out strong with a carrot-apple juice for breakfast, planned a lunch of cayenne pepper, hot water with a tinge of lemon and a dinner of juiced strawberries, blueberries and oranges. I drank my carrot-apple juice for breakfast-side note for tomorrow, don’t put it in a clear cup so everyone questions its contents. To which you tell them and they respond by making a grossed out scrunchy face, which makes you question why the hell you didn’t just eat a bowl of Lucky Charms like a normal adult person. Then, while I was drinking my lunchtime cocktail I thought, “You know what would be delicious with this cayenne pepper, lemon and hot water beverage? A 3 Muskateeers!” So, on the way to the vending machine I realized I didn’t have the $.75 for such a purchase-what I did have-my keys and wallet. So I drove to Del Taco for a bean burrito. Now I sit here looking at an empty cup with cayenne pepper flakes stuck to its sides and a bean burrito wrapper with congealed cheese stuck to it. I’m pretty sure this is the exact opposite of fasting. And I am even more sure that normal people wouldn’t drink their disgusting fasting concoction after they have chosen to fall off the fasting wagon.
I have no discipline. Mother Theresa can fast for months-and I am not talking about the lame Hollywood cheating kind of fasting but the real kind where she eats nothing. No water, no bread, no juices and certainly no Del Taco. Maybe I could be more disciplined if I had a movie to shoot or an oppressed world to stand up for, or even a magazine cover to be on. However, when my only motivation is to look better in jeans well, that is a problem that is easily solved by not wearing jeans.
Feeling Small
October 16th, 2009 § Leave a Comment
Ever since I injured my knee I have replaced physical activity with eating. I’ve become a power eater and have managed to scarf down bags of chips, pints of ice cream and full sleeves of raw cookie dough. It’s appalling to me the voracious eater I have become. Paul thinks I have a wooden leg, I think I am just stressed out and depressed with no outlet to release it. So, I have resorted to eating like a bear that is 3 days away from hibernation.
I feel huge and the only thing that makes me feel small and dainty is this awesome chair we found in Albany.
If I could have carried it on the plane I would have brought it home with me, but since all airlines charge these days for checked luggage…well, sadly the chair still resides in Albany.
Small Steps
September 23rd, 2009 § Leave a Comment
I’ve been limping for almost two weeks and have been in constant pain for just as long.
At my soccer game I was going for the ball when my leg came out from under me and I heard a loud pop which was followed by excruciating pain. As I was rolling on the grass I had one clear understanding about life – why they shoot horses. I’ve never given birth but I describe the pain as pushing a soccer ball out of my knee.
After I was dragged off the field I tried calling Paul. It was clear that I needed a ride to the ER and more importantly, I needed sympathy. What I got instead, was his voicemail. So there I sat contemplating how I was going to get to the ER and cursing myself for not discussing the “always answer your phone”, policy with Paul prior.
By the time I arrived at the ER Paul had also arrived. I was wheeled back, put in a hospital gown (for reasons unknown given they only needed access to my knee not my naked derrire.) I sat in the bed trying to ignore my pain and Paul took pictures of me on his iPhone…we were clearly having two very different experiences.
After a few hours, a shot for pain in my butt and another shot in the other cheek for nausea I was sent on my way home. The pain shot worked…the nausea one did not and I spent the next few hours bent over a toilet with my bad knee in a brace throwing up.
Turns out I have a torn ACL and meniscus and in a few weeks I will no longer be able to say I’ve never had surgery.
I started physical therapy this week. The first thing I noticed was that, given the clientele, I had no business being in a physical therapists office. I say this because I was not an old man nor was I an avid athlete. I am a girl who dabbles in community recreation once a week on a co-ed soccer team.
My life has changed a lot since I have been wounded. For one, I no longer receive the weekly soccer emails from our team captain. It was like once I left the field they hung up my jersey and made a pact to never talk about “her” or the “incident” again. I have a walk that says, “here is a girl who is clearly white but has the soul of a black man.” I am often refered to at work as “poor thing”, which I assure you has no upshot. I had to trade my high heels in for dumpy flats and I no longer give off the presence of a tall statuesque woman but rather a oompa loompa minus the purple hair. My apartment is clean from the waist up but a wreck from the waist down. I eat only the things that I find in my general vicinity…for lunch today I had 10 Rolos and a peanut butter cup.
Last night I was doing my homework exercises that they gave me from physical therapy. While I was doing them and watching an episode of Bridezillas, I realized that I felt the carpet on the back of my knee which only meant one amazing thing, I was finally able to fully extend my leg! It was moving mountains kind of extraordinary considering my leg has been frozen in a claw-like state for over two weeks. I have big plans to be able to bend my leg next so stay tuned people!
