Embrace your flaws

I just wanted to post a "thank you" to all the comments I've received about my previous post, on Flickr and Facebook.  Thank you so much for sharing your personal experiences and your thoughts with me.  It really touches me and it means a lot to know that some people can relate, some think this is artistic and some just want to reach out.  I really appreciate it.

So in the course of my constant Facebooking and Twittering tonight, I thought about how we may mislead people about ourselves on social networking. Speaking for myself, I usually only post flattering photos of myself, unlike this photo:



As I was getting ready for bed tonight I thought back to an earlier Facebook post I made about weight and BMI. Some study (another ambiguous "They") said that if we are a little overweight we are still at serious risk for a bunch of health issues. Considering the fact that I already have health issues and that I ate a really horrible diet today and that my BMI is bordering on "overweight", I made the sarcastic remark that I'm screwed. Of course some viewers see my figure in photos and wonder what the hell am I bitching about. And really...what the hell am I bitching about?

I could be much plumper. I have a nice bit of hourglass going on. I can fit into most standard sizes if they range in the size 12 arena. And I generally feel pretty good about myself. To clarify, my issues are:

*The more weight I gain, the harder it is on my joints. RA loves to flare up with weight gain.

*Now that I've made it into two calendars (albeit the back pages) I feel more pressure to maintain or become a certain size.

*I'd like to tone up and drop a size because I have a lot of clothing that is a size 10 and not a 12. I'm too cheap to buy new clothes and my one size 12 pair of jeans is mighty worn out. It would be easier to go back to the smaller size rather than buying bigger and newer clothing.

*Vanity. I felt more confident and happier with myself when I weighed about 15 lbs less.

So I thought before I take my Ambien and become a living zombie, wouldn't it be a bit silly to list the yuckier sides of myself that I don't post about? It's not a pity party or complaints. These are just realities. I hope someone reads them and thinks, "holy crap, she's just like me" or "wow here I thought badly of myself but now I feel MUCH better!"

So in no order of importance:

*When I'm stressed out, I break out in pimples on my chest.

*I didn't know what an orgasm felt like until I was 27.

*My hair is usually very frizzy but I just got a bad haircut. Now it hovers between Hermione and Peppermint Patty.

*I'm extremely naive and until my late 20s didn't know much about sex.

*I'm asymmetrical. All over. My eyes are not the same shape. My boobs aren't the same despite having a mastectomy and a plastic surgeon reconstructing them. My feet are not the same size. I'd hazard a guess that one of my legs is slightly longer than the other.

*I'm extremely high strung. I get stressed out easily and have to sit through sessions with a professional on how to visualize my "happy place."

*I relate to animals better then people and that's why I love dogs so much.

*I can never remember when to use "than" versus "then."

*I have a very round face which looks really wide in photos. Therefore I try to pose for photos at an angle. I rarely post full frontal shots because of this. It's silly but I think I look like a doofus otherwise.

*I have a dimple on my ass. And I have a lot of cellulite on my thighs.

*Having IBS makes my gut distended 90% of the time.

There ya go. I could go on, but it would really be nitpicking. I love myself. Despite my illnesses and my neuroses, I think I'm a pretty cool chick. And I'm really happy with my life for the most part. But let's face it. The internet allows us to project ourselves as whoever the fuck we want to be, whether or not it's true, or even if it's only 1/4 of who we really are. Who are we kidding here? I fart, burp and sweat just like everyone else does. My life is not always charmed. I definitely have some cool shit going on but that's because I seek it out. It doesn't come to me, knocking at my front door. I've pushed myself out of my comfort zone on several occasions and luckily that has paid off most of the time. But I'd really love it if I could work full time at a job I love, not feel pain or fatigue all the time, not worry about how I will shit everyday and why my gut is so bloated, etc., etc., etc.

My point is: don't be fooled by what you see one a person's exterior, whether in person or on his/her social networking profiles. We're all a bit fucked up. Some of us more then others. Than others? See, I don't know. It's time for my sleepy medication and soon I'll forget the last 15 minutes from now.

Take care, love yourselves and see you later, or, as I always say in German...Tschus.

Art therapy

This post is about a piece of art I created to help me heal from a miscarriage. If this subject bothers you, please stop reading now.

I'm not sure how to start this post so I'll just go through technical details first and see what happens.

I started this from a photo that Ron took of me the night we got our first positive pregnancy test. Seeing the word "Pregnant" on the stick was amazing. I always wondered how I'd really feel about it and I felt a rush of happiness. I've never seen such a wide smile on Ron's face before! We laughed, I cried, and then we just settled into a state of nerves and giddiness. Vowing not to tell hardly a soul, we ended up spilling the beans to some friends, his mother and a few coworkers.

As many of you know, that is the kiss of death on an early pregnancy. Why this is, I'm not sure. The happier you are and the more people you tell right away, the greater your chances are of losing it.

Anyways, you can read the miscarriage story here if you don't know it already.

I printed off the never-before shared photo from that night on a piece of fabric designed for computer printers. Then I found an image from good 'ol Google of an outline of the female form. I traced it onto the photo fabric and free-formed a very crude uterus and blood puddle.

This piece is about irony and grief. It's a juxtaposition of the happy, obligatory smiling face next to a positive pee stick and the blank, mute form of a woman, bleeding onto the ground.







To be honest, just manipulating the original photo and then stitching this up made me a little sick to my stomach. There were tears. I had to pause a few times and just do something else for a bit. However, it is finished and now the preoccupation I've had for several weeks over this project is laid to rest. When I look at this, I see happiness, pain and some peace. It's almost as if during the process of creating something, you take all those emotions out of your head and put it into your piece. I can visit the piece and go through the emotions if I choose to, or I can just reflect on it.

There you have it. Art therapy. Eventually I'll get some mounting board and frame it so it can join other pieces on my art wall.

Thanks for reading and looking at it. I appreciate comments but don't feel obligated. Tschus. :)

One of the 7 Deadly Sins: I has it.

We admit it.  Ron and I made way too much food for the two of us and loved every bit of it.  Lots of leftovers, lots of groaning and new stomach stretch marks.  But all worth it.

I admit that consumerism lured me in.  I had a coupon from Hy-vee for a free turkey with purchase of ham.  So I bought said ham even though I don't eat pork anymore (Ron loves the ham) and then sought out the brand of free turkey offered to me through this glorious coupon.  The smallest one I could find was 18 lbs.  Does that stop me?  No.  I bought the 18 lb turkey.  And we brined it and cooked it up along with all our favorite sides and pies.  And we continue to eat, slowly extending the size of our waists, giving bits and pieces to our pets.  They are all happy as well.  Ever hear a pet rat sigh?  Well ours do because they are so happy with trytophan.     (Or however the hell you spell it.)

Here are our food pics:



The turkey



Notice how clearing the table means throwing all our shit onto the floor or a chair?





It was a ton of food for just us but dammit, it was good. Thankfully I started the cranberry sauce and pies the day before. I really condone cooking things ahead of time.



There is Ron, posing pretty after cooking for hours with me. I have to admit that I have a kick ass husband. He doesn't sit on the couch and watch tv while I cook. He's in there, wrists deep into the food. I couldn't get it all done without him.

So today I am working on some crafting/art shit and I did some painting. I hate painting. Oh God, help me. I HATE PAINTING. I hate getting the paint all over my feet because I refuse to wear shoes. (I can hold a grip on the tiny parts of the sink and counter with me feet better if they are bare.) I hate dripping paint onto the cupboards. And I hate trying to make it all look even. I keep hitting the popcorn ceiling with blue paint and then swearing loudly. Fucking paint. Ron says it's ok because he wants to scrape every last bit of popcorn ceiling off in the house before we die. I figure we should be able to get it done before our loan ends. 30 years.

Here is me with my "Fuck you Paint I fucking hate your ass" face. Notice the defined shoulders from hefting a brush. Also notice the start of my Thanksgiving pooch from all the food I've been consuming and exercise I haven't been doing.



Yeah. That's normally how I look on any given day. Since the pain is coming back and I'm too scared to take the new pain pills I've been given, this is about as good as I get. Oh well. At least my feet are a pretty blue.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Tschus.

PAINT

Oh god painting.  I hate it.  It's not really the actual application of paint that I hate, it's choosing the damn colors.  It's expensive, time consuming and I have to look at it for years to come because if I fuck it up, I'll be too lazy to re-do it.  I'm not as worried about the smaller rooms, but the great room  has such high ceilings.  What colors look good on a twenty foot tall wall?

I found a really light green and put it on the wall next to the red accent wall.  It looks awful.  Not the color itself but next to the red.  I don't think anything can go next to that red wall.   The red.  Has.  To go.  So in keeping the green, wtf goes on the accent wall?  All the sites I've read say to put the same color, only a shade or two darker.  So that's probably what I'll end up doing.  I apologize in advance if you come over and say, "Blaaaarrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh the color on these walls offends all five senses!!!" or something like that.







I guess I better finish the bathroom before I continue the living room. Tomorrow the bathroom will be finished and hopefully I'll have made two pies. But first, I have to kick some physician ass tomorrow at the pain clinic. If he tells me I have to take a pain medication that makes me throw up for 5 hours, I'll be pissed. (Here take a nausea pill on top of the pain pill. And you will probably still feel sick but won't throw up. Oh and you'll be completely stoned and probably want to sleep all day. And since you are so fucked up now, you won't remember being in pain, yeah! That's really how it works! We just distract you from your pain by side effects!!!)

Anyways, that's my week thus far. I can't wait to cook Thanksgiving in our new home, even if it does still look like a bomb went off.

Tschus!

Shaun of the Dead, in Galaga form

My latest swap piece is finished. The theme this time is a horror mash-up: take something from the horror genre and put it with something seemingly unrelated, like Abe Lincoln Vampire Hunter.

So if you've never played Galaga (seriously?!), then I suppose you need a frame of reference. Click on the hyperlink. It was an old arcade game that I used to play when spending hours at the mall. It was the only game in the scary, dark arcade that I played well. I'm still addicted to it and will happily play when it's available. The old game is pretty pixelated.

I had some help to come up with the pattern idea. Mr.X Stitch suggested using Shaun and Ed for the shooters when I threw my idea of a zombie/space shooter at him. Ron helped me with little details, such as including "red" on Shaun's shirt. I took my old Bruce Campbell pattern and changed the figures into Shaun, Ed, Mary the zombie and a generic zombie from an old Nintendo game. (I'm not sure which one but when I googled 'pixelated zombie' it came up.) I checked a bunch of screen shots from the movie to come up with basic colors to try and match the characters.



It didn't take terribly long once I made myself sit down and do it. I unfortunately didn't consider the size of it when finished so it was a weird dimension, like 8 inches by 7 inches. Not exactly frame-able. So I glued it to a thin piece of canvas and bordered it with some black ribbon. It is drying now. I think it could be popped into an 8 inch by ten inch frame if the person wants to hang it. I believe she lives in Germany so I will have another piece floating around Europe. Cool stuff! I like it. As soon as it is dry and I have some cash, I'll send it on over!

Have a good one, tschus!

More pinups, but first, the art museum

What a week!  The weekend was great.  I attended an art lecture with a dear friend and we strolled through the galleries afterwards. It's such a nice, calming place to be. I took a few photos:









Photography is allowed as long as you don't use a flash. Use a flash and the docents will descend upon you with open, ravenous jaws.

I managed to paint some of the guest bathroom. It looks rather streaky right now but will be better once I get a second coat up. I'll post pics when it's done. I had an inkling that painting would be a pain in the ass but no idea it would cause the arthritis and fibro shit to flare up so badly. But that is ok, I have time to do all this. I would like to be able to unpack everything and put them away but it's hard to justify unpacking all the china cabinet only to have to repack it so I can paint behind the cabinet. Or bookshelves. Or *insert piece of furniture here* I did hang up some things in my art/rat room because I know it will be while before I paint in there.

We also got out last night for a bit. It was the 2011 Vixen Calendar release party and Miss Vixen Pinup pageant. Since a friend was competing, I really wanted to be there to support her as well as the lovely ladies behind the calendar's creation. It was super fun as the local burlesque troupe mc'd (sp) and performed. Even though we had to leave a little early, we had a really good time! I was super surprised to see they included one of my photos in their back page. I'm a back page calendar girl! Hahaa, I love it. I am so touched and happy! A year ago I never could have predicted all of this: quitting my job, modeling as a pinup, holding firm to my true self. But here I am. To be sure, I haven't handled everything as well as I could and I've made mistakes. But I'm learning and moving forward. Doing the pinup modeling has really been a boost to my self confidence. And it has introduced me to some awesome people and I keep meeting new friends with every event I attend. So if you want to help support the women who have been such an inspiration to me, as well as help out some great animal groups, you can order calendars from Pinups For Pit Bulls and Vixen Pinup Photography.





That's about it for now. Between painting and shuffling boxes, I'm working as fast as I can to finish a new cross stitch for another swap. It's a fun piece and I can't wait to post it. Until then, tschus!

A conglomeration of shit

Don't let the word "shit" fool you.  It doesn't automatically equate negativity.  It's become a widely used word in my vocabulary, easily interchanged with "stuff," "things," etc.  Some say that people use curse words because they have nothing creative or original to say.  It's quite fucking possible.

So what has happened as of late?  I haven't taken many pictures to illustrate this post so I'll just sum things up.We scheduled the move, ended up throwing up on the move date and rescheduled for a Tuesday.  We had a house guest on Thursday and we managed to mildly entertain him amidst a sea of boxes and chaos.  Then a few days later I officially ended my job.  Aaaaand today another pet died.

Job wise: Having chronic health issues makes everything hard.  It's hard to be spontaneous, it's hard to make plans, hard to get to work, hard to get shit done around the house, maintain relationships, take a dump, etc.  The more stressful a situation is, the more the chronic pain and fatigue flare up.  Work became intolerably stressful.  Oh sure there were periods of calm, fun, productivity and fulfillment.  But the stress became too much, we've never had a raise so motivation was nil and I am not sure anymore what the mission is of my former employer or who exactly I was working for.  It's confusing even when you know the details, trust me.  And they aren't worth going into.  All I know is that when I started, the place felt like home.  Everyone was family and no matter what happened, I was just pleased as punch to be among so many wonderful people.  Fifty plus layoffs later and a more corporate attitude, it felt more like we were all heart attacks waiting to happen and the family feeling was gone for the most part.  It became very sad, strained and unsure.  The miscarriage was the last straw even though I'm not sure what caused things to go wrong right from the beginning.

I hope to hell that things get better there for all the great people who still are there.

So am I an archivist anymore?  I don't think you could rid me of my professional nature.  So for now I'll just work on feeling better.  Taking care of the new house, keeping the dogs happy, getting some exercise, finding new therapies.  I am hoping to get elected to a board for a local heritage group next year and I"ll keep my professional, local archivist membership.  I'm not too worried but then again, I can't afford to worry about shit I can't control.I feel slightly worried about my career but the overwhelming sense of peace overshadows the worry.  By staying home and taking care of things, I am not letting anyone down.  There is no FMLA laws to keep in mind.  No coworkers to let down.

House: The new house is great!  I've unpacked here and there and next week I'll start priming the guest bathroom.  I'm sure within ten minutes, I'll hate painting.  But this is the first time I've had the chance to paint my walls.  Wow....no white or beige unless I put it there.  I have a feeling that the large, red wall will have to go.  It's bold and kind of pretty but it's a bit much.  And what goes with red on the corresponding walls?  Not much but beige.  More beige.  Or white.  Meh.



As soon as it quits raining, I'll be able to get out with my camera for some walks. The little bi-planes taking off and landing are neat to watch. And there is plenty of uhhhh prairie grass to look at. :-)

Gardner, KS in the 2000 census was just under 10,000 people. I have never lived in a town this small before. And that's saying something since I'm from North Dakota. The city was founded where the Santa Fe and California Trails split. According to the highly unreliable Wikipedia article, Gardner was the first community founded in Johnson County and the first one in KS invaded by Confederates/slave holders/redneck crazy Nazis during the Border Wars. So far Gardner does not have a Pit Bull ban which is one of the reasons we chose to live here. Hopefully they maintain this "don't tread on me" sort of philosophy, which is unlike most of Johnson County. And our neighbors already left cookies on our doorstep. Very nice. I'll have to bring them a big bottle of vodka to return the neighborly feelings.

Pets: Ratchet's brother passed today. He was having all kinds of issues which I had treated. They were in remission but then he started to scratch a lot, especially his face. Today I found him with his eye scratched out, hanging from its socket. It was a bit horrifying. I called Ron and he took us to the vet, where Clank was euthanised. He was a rat that I saved from being snake food. A brother from another litter to Ratchet. We mostly called him Crank because he was not exactly happy about being handled. He liked to be petted but not picked up. When Ratchet was really sick, Clank would lay on him, groom him more than usual and keep him warm. I'm so glad we were able to give him a good home for the last almost 2 years.



So a conglomeration of shit, to be sure. Thankfully in some ways, I came down with a sinus infection and strep throat. Due to all the antibiotics and the house move and miscarriage, we took a break from trying to have a kid. A month of not worrying when I'm ovulating, taking hormones, worrying that my medications would screw things up, blah blah blah. Just taking a break and trying to live in the "now."

Tschus.