Age ain't nuthin' buttah numbah... that gradually increases around one's waist

Who knew my 35th year would be the year my body decided to fail me. I sure didn't.

I won't bore you with the infertility, muscle cramps, thryoidectomy, heel spurs, arthritic wrists, back pain and gravity-challenged breasts. But I will share the dark demon known as metabolic betrayal. What the eff is up with this body I don't recognize anymore?? Granted, I'm not the most active girl in the change room, but really, I've never been that girl and I've still somehow managed to have a body that I can "live with" when confronted with my wicked stepmother, Madam Mirror.

But NOW! NOW, I'm all of a sudden not recognizing myself and it's troubling to say the least. I've even misjudged the space my hips take up in public spaces and have had to endure the shock of "not fitting." We're talking seats on the subway, namely. A horrifying discovery to say the least.

My face is the width of Silken Laumann's shoulders. The bags under my eyes could store Don's lunch. Who needs blue jeans when I can live my life forever in blue veins.

Soooo... I've resorted to trusty ol' Weight Watchers---the only way I know how to bring back some semblance of the body I once knew. Xmas day marks one week since I started and it's weigh-in day. Because I'm doing WW Online, I'll be weighing myself. (Fine by me, as I've come to the conclusion that WW meetings are not my thang.)

My starting weight? 179lbs. My goal weight? 145.

I've attached a pic of myself when I was at that very weight of 145. Just before I moved to Edmonton. Oh, Edmonton---how could you?

Have Yourself a Merry Anti-Xmas

So for various reasons, my 35th Xmas will be the least Xmas-y Xmas ever. And frankly, I'm cool with that.

But I'm also very cool with the fact that my dear brother Doug and his lovely wife Kristin will be popping in for some quick 'nog n' nosh on Xmas afternoon. They will be our only guests, and I anxiously await their arrival. Especially since....

... they're expecting their first baby!!! My first neice or nephew! My parents' first grandchild!

It's all very exciting.

Naturally, my ultra-sensitive brother was apprehensive about sharing the news with his faultily-wired sister, but I assured him it was news I wanted to hear. It was news that made my heart full.

This coming spring, Doug and Kristin's lives will change forever with the arrival of this little mystery creature. And I for one, know that little one is in good hands.

Work on your bedside manner, lady

I had a rather upsetting experience yesterday, one that frankly I could have done without considering everything else on my plate.

A little background... last month I had a physical for the purposes of getting some paperwork signed by my family doctor for our homestudy. Turned out my own doctor was away so a replacement filled in. She said that the signature would have to wait until my family doctor arrived back. Meanwhile, I proceeded with all the annual check-up questions and threw in the fact that I had a few episodes of anxiety and depression of late (Gee, I wonder why?!) and that I might want to explore the possibility of some counselling---something I've done in the past and has worked well.

So jump ahead to Dec. 4th and I'm sitting in the office with my doctor. A chilly woman on a good day, an ice queen on her worst. So I explain why I'm there (was also there to get bloodwork results on thyroid, insulin and calcium levels). She rifles through my folder and finds the adoption paperwork. She unenthusiastically begins filling out the necessary fields and then she notes the mention of depression on the report filed by the replacement one month earlier. I believe her warm opening on the subject was something along the lines of "So, what's this (the depression) all about?"

I began to explain my occasional anxiousness and tendency to dwell on certain issues, how I sometimes fear it may affect my performance at work etc. WELL, that's enough to make her put the pen down. "I can't fill this out in this period of time. You're going to have to make a 30 minute appointment and I need to find out more about this depression. I really think you should experiment with your higher levels of thyroid medication. Also, I may have to request a psychiatric evaluation.

A PSYCHIATRIC EVALUATION!? WHY?

Because I drag my heels every once in a while? Because I haven't had a good laugh in a couple of weeks? Because I obsess about home renos a little more than the average HGTV-aholic? Eat one too many pastries in a weekend?

Gimme a break.

I joke, but really I'm shitting my pants. No matter how normal I feel, or those who know and love me---this woman has the upper hand and I have to let her swing it however she deems necessary. Plus, I've got to bite my tongue when I feel the urge to challenge her or defend myself (something I find very difficult to do when I feel poorly treated or wrong done by).

I'm posting (what else!) another Jessie Wilcox Smith illustration. I love this one because both the mother and baby look so incredibly peaceful in one another's arms. It looks like the baby has just awoken from a nap and the mother has yet to discover the sweet open saucers. Or maybe mom is so at peace, she's about to nod off herself.

Oh, to be that mother.