My Dark Secret

Instead of getting myself in trouble and sending this out to someone that I shouldn't contact I'll just put this out there for the rest of the world to read. I know the logic doesn't work for you but it works for me. Don't question my sanity. I do that everyday on my own. 

Dark Angel,

I don't know if it's the last 3 songs I  listened to before I drifted to sleep or the constant news of the Gulf Coast or the fact that I've been reading the Southern Vampire Series newest book or that you are somehow subconsciously still in my thoughts. I went to the park today. I went to kill time. I thought I'd tan, read a book and people watch while waiting for my next appointment. There was a jazz band playing when I got there so I put down my shawl and lay down to listen to them as I read. I had on a summer dress and flip flops and to block the sun from burning my face a large brim hat and sunglasses. I took out my book and began to read. I felt myself getting drowsy so I turned on my iPod to keep me awake. Coldplay's Cemeteries of London came on first. The black and white music video always reminds me of the black and white photos of you in the cemetery, you wearing your long leather coat and boots. Next came to back to back Depeche Mode songs: Enjoy the Silence and Corrupt. I must have drifted to sleep while I was listening to Corrupt. 

In my sleep I dreamt. I was sitting in the Biloxi beach. I knew it was Biloxi and not any of the Delaware or New Jersey beaches because of the sand. The sand down south is different from the one here. I was wearing a black two piece with a white skull. I had seen a similar swim suit in Victoria's Secret earlier that day which is how I'm guessing it came into my dream. Boys were playing running around me. I ignored them as the wind blew my hair. Someone stood in front of me so I looked up at them. It was Armando. I smiled at him. " We're going canoeing he told me". I looked around and saw Dave and Jeremy. It was Dave and Jeremy as they are now not as they were when the four of us were growing up. I looked around the beach to see where the canoe was. I looked out to the Gulf and realized the water was dark and thick and sure enough it was not water but oil. Then I noticed you walking on water or in this case oil. You were wearing black cargo pants and your boots with a black and white tee shirt. I stood up and you beckoned me. I went into the water and then remembered that I neither knew how to walk on water or how to swim. As I sunk into the oil I looked for you. You were gone. I woke up.

Poetically enough the sun was hidden by rain clouds and it was beginning to drizzle when I woke up. I grabbed my stuff and left the park.

So what you're saying is I wasn't out of shape?

The diagnosis to my PCOS started with me worrying about the asthma attacks I kept getting when I rode my bike. It constantly felt like I was going up hill on my bike even when I was going downhill. I had gotten a new bike. It was this amazing Schwinn made specifically for women which was just a nice way of saying they cushioned it up and made it pretty to market it to women. I had saved up for months to buy this bike and by by 5th ride in I couldn't ride it anymore.

I like riding bikes as exercise more than running for various reasons. First you get on the bike you pedal it goes and you're exercising while sitting down. It doesn't create as much damage on your knees as running on pavement does. There's also the fact that you cover so much more ground on a bike than you do on your feet.

So I had this brand new bike that I could count on my hands how many times I ridden it. I couldn't ride it anymore because I was so out of shape due to my PCOS that I was having these asthma attacks. For a year it just stayed in storage in my basement. Poor bike. I hated every time I saw it knowing that I had spent money on this bike and I had barely used it. I tried ever so often to get on it and ride it but same thing would happen I'd have an asthma attack. It recently got put in the garage at my mom's house and it stayed there. It wouldn't have moved from there unless my boss decided he need to clean out the garage.

He needed to move the bike so he starts rolling it out of the way. I saw him stop look at the bike, play with the wheels, play with the breaks and then he says "the breaks don't work on your bike". I turned and gave him a what do you mean look. He explained that the back wheel should just roll but it isn't. He says that it needs to be fixed.

So this whole time I thought I was out of shape it wasn't me it was the bike didn't work? I was really mad that I was so out of shape but it wasn't me it was the bike. I am also grateful that thinking something was wrong with me I went to the doctor. The doctor found something was wrong and I am getting help for it so maybe I should be grateful.

The Clothes Do Not Make the (Wo)Man

George Michael's song Freedom is a great song to work out to. I've always had it on my iPod so when I go to the gym and I can run my little heart out. The song has a great beat to run to which is part of the reason why I love it. The other part is the anger that he has as he sings about his life in fame. The feeling that he is bitter about all the things that were handed to him just for his having a pretty face and all the things people thought that he should be. There's the I hate being pretty feeling to the song that I love too. At the same time that I'm getting energy from his anger I find energy out of the anger I start feeling that oh boo hoo you had to be a pretty boy to become rich and famous. 
Growing up I was a skinny girl with let's be honest rather large breast. I was pretty, I'm not being my own horn but being honest. Pretty skinny and large chest equals to a lot of attention from boys in school. To me because this had always happened I thought it was normal. I never knew that not all girls get persistent attention from the other sex. I didn't realize that some girls were just constantly ignored. I lived in my bubble till about the age of 30.
Thirty came and I was thrown for a loop. I became a big girl due to my uncontrolled sugar levels due to my glucose intolerance thanks to my PCOS. Things quickly became different. At first I didn't notice it. One less man telling me "hey baby nice ____" was less headache for me. It became evident when I was getting less dates that something was up and when I didn't even get a hello when I was working with a male I knew something had changed. I didn't mind it. Being ignored was a nice change from being noticed at times.
So here I am 30 lbs lighter back to my normal body and the attention has started up again. From being asked out on dates to being told looking nice by a random guy as I walk down NYC streets I'm getting attention. Suddenly I understand what George Michael was singing about. Now I understand his anger. What I wear (which is nice clothes) and what I look like are not what make me it's my inner spirit that does yet it seems sometimes that that's not what our society judges us by.

My 5' 1 docotor jumps for joy

I went for my 3 month check up with my endocrinologist. This was an important visit because it's the check up after she changed me to Glumetza.

This is how a visit usually goes:

1. Arrive check in with receptionist

2. Go back with nurse

3. Get weighed and told I've lost more weight

4. Get finger pricked to have blood sugar tested.

5. Dr. Lit comes and does questions to see if I might have full blown diabetes.

6. She checks/blood pressure/if ankles are swollen/ throat check to check thyroid

7. Dr. Lit leaves and nurse does blood work which I might confess is the longest part because I throw a fit ea. time the needle is about to go in.

This is how the visit went this week

1. Running late so when I walked in receptionist just took me straight to the back where while I waited for Dr. Lit to come in I did my paper work there.

2. Nurse walked into room to take paper work and to ask for my co-pay.

3. Got weighed but it seems I have finally stopped losing weight. I believe that since I've started running I'm starting to create muscle so even though I fit in smaller clothes, I am weighing more. Muscle weighs more than fat.

4.I'm guessing that due to time crunch they forgot to check my blood sugar. I'm really not going to complain since that's one less needle going into me to get blood out.

5. Dr. Lit runs in seconds after the nurse, who's nave is Beverly, and begins her questions. She thought it was normal that my appetite has increased and thinks it's okay that I'm drinking so much as long as I'm not going to the bathroom every five minutes.

6. She checked my blood pressure which was pretty good even though I was running like a mad woman to get there on time. My feet looked good she said. She must have not seen all the blisters from the New York visit and all the running. Then she does her usual pressing on my throat and asking to swallow so she can check my throat. She wrote it all down and said good bye. Things are going as they should go

6b. So I"m waiting for Beverly to walk back in to do my blood work. Dr. Lit runs back in. I should mention this is how she works she runs everywhere to do everything she does. She tells me I don't know if I was imagining it so can I look at your neck again. She pokes at my neck and then looks at her notes. She says the brown mark is gone! She starts jumping up and down and she says while she's still jumping Do you know what that means? I smile at her and she says the medicine is working it is working! We'd been worried that it wasn't anymore but I guess she took this as a good sign. I guess she has been feeling the same way I have frustrated on how long this is taking.

7. Finally Beverly walks in and Dr Lit stops jumping and leaves. We start our little dance. Turn to face me she says. I tell her no until I feel like I'm a 5 year old and turn to face her. Then she tries to put the band on my left arm. I move it away from her she calls me by my name and I pout as I give her my arm. It takes 3 tries and lots of talking before I let her pinch my arm and a minute later we have a tube of blood. Dr. Lit well call me on Tuesday to tell me what it looks like. I'm hoping this time there has been some progress.