my lovely lady lumps: adventures in uterine fibroids.

i am not an animal!

have you ever seen one of those “i didn’t know i was pregnant” tv shows where the lady doesn’t know she’s pregnant until she’s in the delivery room with what she thinks is appendicitis? well, i have. so imagine that you’re me. imagine that you’ve seen A LOT of those types of programs, and that you’re also kind of a hypochondriac. you’ve sworn off web md entirely because maybe it gives you panic attacks sometimes.

now, imagine that you’ve noticed that your abdomen (despite some recent weight loss) has become quite bloated. and when you press on it, you feel something hard and round. imagine that when you lay on your back and look at your stomach, it is notably distended to one side. you might ask a friend or two to palpate your uterus area. you might start palpating your own uterus area obsessively, and work yourself into an anxious frenzy imagining that there is a baby or a tumor or a dinosaur egg in there.

but that’s crazy, right?

i had my yearly physical coming in two weeks, and i spent the entire time bouncing back and forth between utter panic, and feeling like a idiot for thinking that anything at all was wrong (with panic winning out in the final few days). i almost went to the emergency room on at least 3 occasions.

but it’s probably nothing.

self medicating.

i’m not very good at transitions.

when i was a freshman in high school, i blew out of all my classes and got bumped out of honors english. i spent too much time oogling boys at the skate park and drinking  yukon jack and kool aid from my best friend’s parent’s liquor cabinet. by sophomore year, i was back to my honor roll making, science fair winning, overachieving self.

when i was a freshman in college, my best friend and i used to joke that we should start a band called “champagne headache”. but for serious, i spent the entire year drunk on korbel watching “love boat” on the couch in the common area, and learning how to build the perfect gravity bong.  by graduation, i was back to my dean’s list making, resident assisting, overachieving self.

i’m convinced it was because i started kindergarten just days after i turned 5. always being one of the youngest kids in the class kind of messes you up. but whatever the case, i always get severely beat up when i’m wrestling the kraken that is change. although i do eventually end up victorious. usually.

as much as i overachieved with bong making and box wine swilling in my younger days, i’ve pretty much grown out of my substance abuse phase (save for the occasional too much bourbon day). however, i do have an equally destructive coping mechanism that still remains…

secret stash.

so, i wrote a post for the goodwill of northern new england blog today about my insane vintage fabric collection… but i’m not sure when it will be put up. unfortunately, my broke207 post for today is the B side to that post. and of course,  i don’t have a back up plan.

so today, you’re just gonna have to watch the outtakes of the of the movie before you actually see the feature attraction.

i’ve been watching a lot of hoarders lately, and it is SCARING THE CRAP OUT OF ME. i’m a shopper, a collector, and a lousy housekeeper. i do actually delight in throwing/giving things away, and my house is never so messy that it can’t be cleaned in an afternoon… but as a card carrying member of the OCD club, i worry that something traumatic could happen and all of the sudden that switch could click on in my head and *bam* i could be living in this.

lactose intolerant.

well, for a few days at least. those crazy cats over at bzzagent sent me free silk soymilk coupons under the condition that i give up milk for 10 days (like it’s some sort of challenge or something). not one to back away from a challenge (especially one that involves me getting free stuff), i decided that i’m not only giving up milk for 10 days, i’m giving  all dairy.

i have sort of a cheese and butter problem to start with, even though my personal ethics would really love for me to be a vegan. i thought this would be a good way for me to test the dairy free waters, without any major commitments or expectations. although i already spent over $100 on dairy free groceries that i am convinced will help me make it through the tough times that i assume to be ahead. what i’ve learned so far:

the chopping block.

so after spending some time rolling around with tuesday’s therapy musings, i got to thinking about how i use shopping to ease my anxiety. any time i’m about to make a life change, or do something that is stressful to me, i make myself more comfortable by assuring that i am wearing an impeccable outfit. new job= new wardrobe every time, assuring that even if i do make more money at said job, i won’t actually ever get to see any of it.

as many of you know, i’m about to embark on yet another crazy performance opportunity in the form of the burlesque nutcracker.  generally, this would mean several hundred dollars in new lingerie and dancewear, but i’ve decided to try and fight the power. for the snowflake number, instead of getting this (which i really really want to the point where i’ve convinced myself that i NEED it), i will borrow something completely cute and serviceable from someone who was in the number last year. not mine, not perfect, but so far more painless than spending $68+ shipping on something that may or may not actually contain my boobs, and that i will likely never wear again.

well, as i’m thinking about the HUGE (and potentially) lingerie sacrifices that i’m about to make, it made me start thinking about what would happen if i lost my job or got sick and had to make some real sacrifices- what would  be the first to go?

1. as much as i hate to say it out loud, my $100 a month cell phone bill is LUDICROUS. goodbye iphone, hello virgin mobile pay as you go… could i get by with no phone at all?

2. goodybe dr. shrinkage. $300 a months for therapy is a lot. i find it hugely beneficial, but i could survive without it if it meant being able to make my mortgage payment.

3. my student loans are steadily shrinking, and i get to write off the interest every year on my taxes. but if i had to make some cuts, these guys speak the language of need based deferment, which is a blessing indeed.

4. those are the big ones (and we all know that i can’t stop paying my credit card bills- as much as i would like to), but then there’s all the little bits and pieces like neftlix ($17), my gym membership ($10), and non-specific spending money in general ($75). i don’t have cable, and i would have to be in pretty dire straits before i let anyone pry this internet connection out of my little clenched fists.

5. i can’t weed out things like medication, but i do think that if i was really proactive about it, i could axe my food budget down to $15 a week. although i might have to get over the ick factor of shopping at the save-a-lot or the dollar store. hey, at least i don’t eat meat.

still, as it turns out, i need at least $1,200 a month to get by. it’s a lot. it’s scary. it’s exactly why suze orman recommends 6 months worth of expenses in the bank for everyone.

is there anything you wouldn’t be willing to cut?

looking a little pastie.

a couple of months ago, i took my top off in a bar full of strangers and lived to tell the tale. i promised to give you all the full rundown sometime in the indeterminate future… well, that future is now- and this piece is 2 STRUTs for the price of one (one as a STRUTter and one as a not so casual observer). it’s posted on over at the observer, but their direct link is a little screwy right now, so you can find the piece in its entirety below. and in case you’re local and didn’t get a chance to see/feel/taste/participate in the carnage that was my  STRUT performance, i’ll be shakin it one final time tomorrow (october 14th) at geno’s. come support/join/ogle me, or at least come point and laugh.

Confessions of a late night STRUTter- A lesson in bringing it.

As a woman on a firm trajectory toward her mid-thirties who packed on an extra 30 lbs. 2 years ago and is still using “I got divorced” as an excuse for her somewhat doughy physique, one might not guess that I’d be jumping at the chance to get mostly naked in a room full of strangers. Two months ago, I probably wouldn’t have guessed that either. But then, burlesque happened.

dialing out.

see that telephone over there? that’s the telephone i’m going to use to phone in this post. yeah, it’s summertime, and i’ve had all varieties of excuses for not posting as often as i once did back in the golden age of me having a lot of free time… anyway, the big burlesque amateur night (so you gained 30 lbs. eh- maybe you should strip down to your underpants ON STAGE IN FRONT OF MANY PEOPLE) is tonight, and i’ve been doing nothing for the last three days but freak out, practice my routine, freak out, and sew maribou onto home made underpants (oh, and freak out). that said, i just wanted to let you all know that i haven’t forgotten you,  and that i have two really great posts germinating in my brain for when this personal hell is finally over.

in the meantime, here are a few pleasant diversions to get you through:

1. i wrote this article about eating healthy on a budget for part time vagabond.

that’ll kill some time! not enough?

2. the magnificent chrystie corns has caught the coupon bug, and  is already doing it better than anyone else. her new website looks SO GOOD (jealous!).

still bored?

3. ok, maybe i’ve been taking little breaks from burlesquing and melt-downing to read my new favorite web comic from start to finish. that’s 1729 pages people. i’ve been doing this for WEEKS, and i’m still only on #1233. (thanks for the new addiction @rurugby!)

for those of you interested in the gory details of tonights titty shakin massacre (but who can’t make it to the actual show, or don’t have any interest in seeing me in pasties), i’ll be writing an article about it that i hope will make it on to the pages of the maine observer.  there might even be PICTURES. heavily airbrushed pictures, but pictures none the less. time to go stuff my ass into some red satin underpants.

enter the sandwich.

yes, it’s 10 pm and i still haven’t written my sandwich party post yet. yes, i slept until noon and then took a three hour nap around 8. and yes, when i finally woke up i ate half a casserole dish of cheesy artichoke dip for dinner. it’s been a weird day, and i’m not even hung over! (no seriously, i swear). the sandwich party was a balls out success, but it sucked out my life force and i’ve been completely deflated all day.

flash back to friday afternoon. after the power outage fiasco, the boyfriend picked me up at the starbucks around 4ish, and it was straight to the walmart, target, whole foods, liquor store and shaw’s for spending way too much money. arnold sandiwch thins had given me 5 $4/1 coupons, and the bread was only $2.50, so i got an extra $7.50 worth of savings out of the deal. too bad it wasn’t like an extra $150. um, parties are expensive. and for a girl like me who wants everything to be beautiful and delicious (fuck the cost!), it’s impossible to just open a couple bags of ruffles and call it good. i provided 5 varieties of sliced cheese, 4 kinds of wine, bermudan ginger beer, 42 ounces of swedish fish, and enough beer & vodka to take down a dorm full of freshman on thirsty thursday.

then, i stayed up until 3 am freaking out about the fact that i had never thrown a party before. that’s right, i completely lied to house party about my party throwing experience/ability. i’d had people over to watch movies, but always in a very non-committal way (i’m gonna watch showgirls on tuesday, show up if you want in). oh, and there was that one time i threw a wedding (oops)… but people have to come to those. the pitiful truth is that i was horribly embarrassingly unpopular in grade school. so much so that i told my parents that i didn’t like birthday parties- so i wouldn’t have to bear the humiliation of no one showing up.  even though i was lucky enough to have that unpopularity be fairly short lived (by 8th grade i was pretty much in the clear), the fear of having a loser party has stuck with me for the remainder of my life. (i told you it was pitiful!)

flash forward to yesterday morning. asleep by 3 am, up by 8:30 to clean my shit-tasticly messy apartment. in a way, it was a good way to distract myself from the party anxiety. although it also made me into a gigantic bitch, cracking the whip on my poor boyfriend all afternoon (i’m sorry baby!!). needless to say, our apartment was spotless by 7:15- just in time for three of my very amazing friends to arrive to help talk me off the ledge.  they set to work cutting up vegetables, pouring chips into bowls, and calling friends to pressure them into coming.  and they came. 20ish people actually showed up to my house for a SANDWICH PARTY. and appeared to have a good time. some notable moments:

1. i was able to serve 2 people their very first moxie.

2. as it turns out, arnold sandwich thins are actually pretty tasty. we made horseradish cheddar grilled cheese in a panini press (thanks kat!), fluffernutters, and tiny pizzas. (and no, i promise they didn’t even pay me to say that- i wish!)

3. about 1/2 the guests got really sucked in by “logan’s run“, and stayed to watch all 2 fabulous hours.

4. despite the utter lameness of the swag (grocery lists with “arnold sandwich thins” already written on the first line?!), people mercifully still took it home.

5. a slight misunderstanding of the party concept involved one guest showing up  with 10 fast food hamburgers. which was great, because i accidentally forgot to tell people that it was BYOM (bring your own meat). sorry guys! (and thank you teddy!)

6. i was so busy workin the room and making sure everyone had a sandwich in their hand that i completely forgot to get drunk.

what i learned is that being a hostess is hard work, and after the last guests finally wandered out around 1 am, i collapsed on the couch with a searing headache (i had also forgotten to drink any water during day and had crazy dehydration). 2 advil and 2 pints of ice water later, i crawled up the stairs and collapsed for a 10 hour slumber.

i’m sort of proud that i forced myself into getting over my loser party fear, and even more so for not actually having a loser party. that said, would i recommend house party to others? most definitely not.

1. their website blew and was difficult to navigate both for me and my guests.

2. the stupid evite i sent out via their website  looked so much like spam that nobody RSVPed and i eventually had to resort to facebook. (on the upside, they did not edit out the copious amount of profanity i used both in my invite and on my party page).

3. the swag was awful, and $20 wasn’t nearly enough for decent sandwich fixins.

4. i’m convinced that some people didn’t come because they thought it was like a tupperware party and that they might be pressured into buying something.

5. 2 days after i was accepted, they started sending me nasty emails about how i hadn’t invited people to my party yet (which made me fear for my kneecaps).

6. i’m fairly certain that there’s going to be an equally scary/annoying follow-up phase where i and my guests will be harassed for feedback about the party. i may or may not choose to completely ignore this phase.

basically, unless you completely love the product, and you know your friends will too… not really worth it. now that i’ve conquered my fear, i may choose throw another party someday. but house party as an organization can GO SCREW.