Oh, there is ALWAYS at least one song stuck in this tiresome broken record brain of mine, and right now it's the song from my last post, and even more than that, it's THIS SONG.
I know this whole Adele album is about a painful breakup with her boyfriend, but I'm dedicating this song to ME, goddamnit.
(Bear with and forgive me, friends of Jesus; I needed that word today).
I just had an epiphany, and it's a damn good thing too because I've been hating on myself FOR DAYS.
Anyhoo, I went to the doctor's today. No, not for the thyroid stab-o-rama: that's on April 25.
I went because on Friday my belly button felt really weird, and on Saturday the area of my body that is FAR, far too close to my pancreas and liver was doing weird, vague squeezy pains ALL DAY. And then the next day when I woke up, that area was not all squeezy and hurtish anymore, but NUMB.
Numb. What the HELL is that???
So, my belly button felt weird, was stinging and a little sore, and when I tried to do some really stupid dancing just to inspire Jack to say;
"Mom. Stop it."
it felt all...thick or something right around my middle.
So, after basically turning my belly button inside out and having a good look in the mirror, and seeing nothing wrong with it--
I have to interject here for a minute. Belly buttons are horrifying. The only time they should be probed is with a soap finger. And then left alone. Always left alone.
Because if you poke it too hard, I'm CONVINCED you'll LOOSEN THE KNOT and touch innards.
Oh, you laugh, but are you quite certain it won't happen? You think you're not just a giant, walking BALLOON? Keep laughing then. We'll see who's right one day.
Oh my god. Where was I?
Right--sore belly button, and bulgy feeling guts. I googled, and because I thought I had an umblical hernia anyway, I was worried that it had gotten worse. And organs were spilling out of me like so much sausage. Or maybe intestines were becoming STRANGULATED.
In the meantime, on Saturday I had that weird squeezy feeling in the upper right quadrant of my abdomen. I suppose I could have connected this to the mini eggs orgy I'd had ALL of Friday night and most of Saturday. I could have linked it to the onslaught of stomach acid that ensued...
but that is really not very creative.
I figured that I'd shocked my pancreas and liver into overdrive as they desperately tried to pump out insulin to overcompensate for all that sugar. Hence, the more rhythmic on and off discomfort.
I also concluded (after I'd ruled out pancreatic cancer) that it was probably a bacterial ulcer brought on by the stress of living this poopy ka ka life.
I read too much.
See, if you eat a bag of candy coated chocolate eggs all day, you're probably going to suffer some healthy acid reflux, just as, for example, if you eat pizza for four meals in a row, chances are you don't actually have ASS CANCER, just a whopping case of indigestion.
Logic, my friends.
But I was worried about the hernia, so I went to my doc to have her squish me a little.
Good news: I don't have an UMBILICAL HERNIA, I just have a boring abdominal hernia. No organs are going to come tumbling through a gaping tear.
Bad news: this is still HORRIBLE for self esteem. It's also sad to know that since last year I have only lost FOUR POUNDS. For someone who tries to never look at that number on the scale any longer, finding that out was crushing.
So, I was super bummed. I ranted. I wailed. I proclaimed life to be a SHIT SANDWICH, MADE WITH MOLDY BREAD (do you like that one? I was particularly proud of it). The Man said basically that maybe I'd actually gotten FATTER (not his exact words, luckily) at one point during the course of a year and really I've lost TEN pounds, but I just don't know it! HURRAH! This could well be true. I know my clothes have gotten looser.
I pointed out that a GUY can cut out a couple of cookies every day and lose ten pounds, but I eat healthy, exercise all the time and four pounds??? IN A YEAR???? You girls know what I'm talking about.
We have babies and our bodies change. Our hoots change. They have stretch marks now. Our hips get JUICIER. I can't describe it. They're just juicier. Our actual waist is now somewhere much closer to our armpits.
And we obsess. And we worry. And we fret. And we agonize. And we beat ourselves up over it. And we look at old pictures of ourselves and go into a tailspin of depression. And we miss our long hair. And we miss those old jeans.
And we forget that we are good. We are funny. We are strong. We pushed that double stroller for miles. We learned to drive stick shift, and we could work that clutch no problem stuck in traffic going UPHILL. We pooped on the delivery table, but bygod we pushed that baby out! We made Christmas dinner for a roomful of people. We got those kids through the stomach flu, ear infections, throat infections. Etc, etc, etc...
Why do I keep forgetting all this????
So I'm going to play the song, and then I'm going to make a really healthy sandwich and an Ovaltine, and I'm going to remember I am what I am, and that's all that I am, and it's not as bad as I thought.