Shrinking Spaces

It may be because I didn't sleep long enough this morning. It may be because of this raging headache I've had for the last five days. Maybe it is because I haven't eaten anything. Perhaps it is because my children like to put their half eaten special green pancakes on a cabinet (where the dog can reach them and then try to wolf down) instead of putting it in the trash. I may just be feeling a little peeved because no one else in this house knows how to do laundry or clean. Whatever it is today, I am simply in a horrible mood.

I woke up FAR too early for a Sunday morning. I was exhausted after a very long and psychically demanding day at work yesterday. I wanted to crawl into my bed and at my personal discretion, either curl up tight into a tiny little ball of leave me the fuck alone or spread out wide, extending arms and legs, letting my sore muscles elongate and stretch out. Instead, I had crazy dreams and was a pile of sweat and the work days full face of makeup. At some point early this morning, I had my usual visitor(s). I woke up sandwiched between a barricade of pillows my husband put up and the constantly moving body of my nine year old. There was no place for my body to go. My arms were trapped, forced to either raise above my head stiffly, come down by the sides of my body in a stiff military style, or simply be removed to make room for the many bodies in my queen sized bed. My hands fell asleep, my elbows ached. The Whirling Dervish next to me was clearly working on her dance moves and the fact that my prone body was in her way was of no concern. The second child entered the room looking for a position in this Cuddle Factory. Upon seeing that the Inn was indeed too full, he left and I breathed an uneasy sigh of relief. I couldn't possible manipulate my body in a way that would except a fourth body into my increasingly shrinking bed. Did I mention the cats were in there as well? My husband (who was barricaded safely off from the Juggernaut next to me) got up and was quickly replaced with our overweight and extremely flatulent dog. Good sweet Jeebus, will this torture ever end? I decided to exit this Den of Iniquity and start my day, sore and tired and very much in need of more sleep.

Green pancakes were made in celebration of St. Patrick's Day. Bacon was consumed in celebration of it being Sunday and the fact we actually had time to oven bake said bacon. I wanted to sit on the couch and do my internet stuff (why yes I WILL pin 17gazillion pictures of furniture made of pallets thank you oh so very much!!). I wanted to drink eight cups of coffee while I think about getting on the treadmill. I wanted to nestle up in my favorite corner of the couch, ALONE, and think as to whether going to Ikea today was the best or quite possibly worst idea ever. I did none of this things because my sweet dear child saw me alone, completely untethered, on the couch and decided that this was really very much unacceptable. I was immediately set upon and her small body were attached to me in a way that  can only be compared to a parasite clinging for to its life onto its host's body. We clearly must be touching at all points of the body. Arms must be in twined and wiggling while connected is mandatory. Hands should slide in and out of this embrace and little fingernails that are in an almost desperate need to be cut shall scrape the tender inside of my upper arm. Sweet words of love will be exchanged and deep sighs of contentment will flow softly out of the babes mouth. She will take over the Pinterest page and read emails, ask questions about paying bills, and tell me to stop scrolling over the news so quickly because she thought she saw a dog (and she did see a dog and the dog was busy mauling a child so no, I will not stop scrolling so fast over that picture). She will ask to look at more animal pictures and become oh so disappointed when I go over to the Ikea website. The other child will now see the massive cuddle sesh and try to horn his way in between she and I, only to be quickly stopped by her now iron grip she has on my arm. I am looking flooring on the Ikea website I tell him and he shrinks away in both disgust and dismay. The girl gives a smirk of absolute victory and squeezes me tighter, all while digging her too long and must be cleaned finger nails into my triceps. I can take this no more! Please, I plead, PLEASE! For the love of all that is sacred and holy, please give me a little space. Please go snuggle on your father. Please let me have my own space, my own skin. I want to sit here and check out textiles, clutch my coffee, regret not washing my face before I passed out last night, plan out activities for what it turning out to be the longest day in history, and think about what to feed you people for dinner in peace. I need space. 

I know there will be a day, probably in the not too distant future, where my children will shrink away from my embrace and be disgusted at the mere thought of sitting, snuggling, on the couch for two plus hours while we watch Harry Potter. The oldest will be ten this summer and the younger one has already forbade me from kissing him in public (much too embarrassing!!). I know I will miss these moments as I gaze back longingly on them, adjusting the rose colored glasses so that the memories are moments of sheer perfection. I won't remember her dirty fingernails raking the sensitive skin so that it starts to tingle painfully. I won't remember the pimple sprouting from the clogged pore on my chin. The image of the dog choking down green pancakes will be replaced with the vision of the dog ignoring the food on the cabinet and behaving so well that I am smug with pride. My husband won't be remembered as sitting on the other end of the couch in his underwear (maybe I will replace him with Nathan Fillion. My Captain, oh my Captain!). My back, feet, arms, and wrists won't be sore but both strong and light.

Moments and memories are fleeting. Childhood is entirely too short. We age everyday we are here on this planet. Taking the time to embrace our loved ones, gaze on our children in wonder, and snuggle, yes snuggle, hard and furious is what makes life great. But also being able to drink my fucking coffee and look up shit on the internet alone is pretty fucking awesome too.

Blizzard Conditions

I have done nothing today. Well, close to nothing. I brought up the laundry, but have yet to fold it. I was planning on doing my roots, maybe throw in a few highlights, run on the treadmill. Clean a little.  You know, be productive.  In reality, I haven't even showered or even thought about brushing my teeth.

Well, Missy, what have you done today? I'll tell you what I did, you judgemental busybody. I baked cookies with the kids. We snuggled under the blankets and watched the snow fall. I sent off a long email to a friend in hopes to ease her anxiety over her possible breast reduction. I bundled up my son so he could get out into the snow for a few minutes this morning, sending him off with a kiss. I looked up some possible classes to further my career to provide a little more financial security for my family. I called my mother in law and planned for her to come over tomorrow to celebrate my neice's birthday (and maybe mine as well...).

I haven't done much today but I feel like I got a lot done. I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

     January globbin' 17th. I cannot believe that it is already half way through January.There has been so much that happened in the last few weeks, so much more to come in the next! Christmas came and went, quietly and uneventfully. New Years Eve, much of the same. I started back at yoga and dusted the off the old treadmill. I have races coming up and bikinis I want to wear. Getting into better shape was part of making 2013 an awesome year. I got sick last week and thought that maybe, just maybe, I was going to die. A bit dramatic, I know, but I felt like warmed over crap sandwiches. Migraine, inner ear infection, sinus infection, all took a hold of my head and assaulted it with the strength of 100 army's. I was miserable.
     Currently on the mend, I am looking forward to some momentous occasions. First, the one year (!!!!) anniversary of the new "Lady Friends" is quickly approaching and I was thinking of throwing myself a little party. I love parties, I love baking, I love celebrating ME, so why not combine the three and have a little Boobaversary Party. This is all in preparation for the bigger event...my 36th BIRTHDAY. I am planning on making 36 BRILLIANT. This is the year where I run races, improve myself both psychically and emotionally. Where I wean myself from the teet that is Facebook, only to replace it with this blog, my twitter (https://twitter.com/tmfvaughan), and hey, did you guys know about my tumblr (http://tmfvaughan.tumblr.com/)? I am planning on working HARD this year, both personally and professionally. I want to practice what I preach, spread kindness, but also stop letting people take advantage of my (mostly/sometimes) good nature. I want to spend time with the people I truly love, get the dog's weight down to a healthier number for her. Learn something new, make beautiful things, sing beautiful songs, spend quality time with the kids, and hopefully save for an amazing vacation.
     I hope to inspire you all. I hope to entertain and teach. I hope to bring the tiniest bit of beauty into the lives of each and every person around me. Have no fear, this is certainly not going to turn into some earthy crunchy spiritual crafty bullshit "I am Mommy, Hear Me Roar" blog (I can't stand that shit.) I'm not that girl. Big things are happening, and if we allow them to blossom, they can be beautiful. Sit tight, friends, the new year is only just beginning. xo

Don't Call It A Comeback!

I realize that it has been awhile since we last spoke. Since March, actually.  Have I been so busy I couldn't blog? Was I kidnapped? Was I on some glorious extended tropical vacation? Nope. I was dealing with a very old laptop that wasn't compatible with the new blogger format. Now that I have a newer (to me, anyway) and better laptop, we can start hanging out again. My last blog post was written 9 weeks after my breast reduction surgery. So let's pick up where we left off.

I have been VERY happy with the results of the surgery. Sleeping without a bra at night is pretty awesome. Running in ONE sports bra is like a dream come true. Practicing yoga wearing only a yoga top is pretty exciting. The only downside to the surgery is the scarring. (Before I go on I should tell you that I have VERY sensitive skin and I am ever so lucky to end up with keloid* scarring after any kind of trauma.) The scars, aesthetically, don't bother me. I am pretty comfortable with my body and seeing as I don't make a habit of leaving the house topless, the scarring was the least of my worries. Physically, it was a different story. I would wake in the morning and the scarring on the sides and where the drainage tubes were would be achy, feeling almost like a sore, strained muscle. Stretching out helped but waking up pain free would be preferable. I saw the good doctor for my 6 month check up and he asked about the scars. He told me about a laser trial he was conducting. By using lasers on the scars the appearance, thickness, and texture can be drastically improved. I signed on, armed with the knowledge that the lasers may or may not improve the scarring and being fine either way.

The surgery, from start to finish, took under an hour. It was performed in the doctor's office connected to MGH. The area that was going to be worked on was prepared by using a numbing gel. That part actually took the longest amount of time because the gel had to be applied about 20 minutes before the procedure was to begin. Aside from feeling cold, it didn't really feel like anything. The sensation you get from Novocain, or even some really strong pain meds, has a distinct feeling. With the gel I felt nothing. I was brought into another room and sat on a reclined chair. Two other doctors were in the room with my doctor. One held a fan while my doctor used the laser. The point of the fan is to lessen the pain and feeling of heat. In regards to pain, it almost like being tattooed but much more quickly. For me, the worst part was the smell. Burning flesh is not my favorite scent but both breasts were done in less than 5 minutes. It was tender and the seat belt rubbing against my chest was close to unbearable. I'm glad my husband came with me because I am not sure I could have driven and held the seat belt away at the same time.

When I got home, I avoided hugging the children and took 4 ibuprofen. It was sore, but not unbearable. I was told to keep it moist (ugh, I  HATE that word) so I applied bacitracine. The next day I was a chaperon for the third grade trip to Plimoth Rock. I was very uncomfortable the end of the day and my skin was all blown out from the bacitracine. I started using Egyptian Magic after that and my skin started to improve immediately.

The skin where the laser worked its magic had a comic book look to it. It had a ton of tiny little red dots and when I didn't keep up with the ointment it dried out. Today was my 6 week check up. The scarring has minimized and there isn't any more morning pain. The scars haven't disappeared completely and I am fine with that. The laser surgery certainly helped with the pain, the raised areas, the texture and color, and overall appearance.

And as of this morning, I am done with appointments. I am very pleased with my new breasts and the overall experience. My next blog will happen sooner, and have a lot less booby talk. xo

*for more information on keloid scars, check out this website http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001852/

Nine Weeks Later

This photo was taken the night before my breast reduction surgery. I was disproportionate and very very saggy. I did nurse two children with these monsters. I'm not 100% sure what my actual bra size was because I ha been wearing ill fitting and painful bras for years. I was somewhere between a DD and an E. Aside from the major back/neck/shoulder/head ache pain, dressing was a nightmare. Nothing fit properly. I was wearing L/XL shirts.

This is a photo of the new girls nine weeks post surgery. I am currently wearing a 36C bra (the same size I wore in FIFTH GRADE). My shirts are now S/M and I actually bought and can wear button down shirts. The constant pain I was in is gone. The scarring isn't too bad. you can't see the incisions that go along the bottom and into the cleavage area. The scars that are  most prevalent are on the side where he drainage tubes were and down the front of the breast (from nipple down the center to meet the other incisions running along the bottom) but in nine weeks they have already healed and are starting to fade.

I cannot say enough wonderful things about this surgery. Yes, it was extremely painful. Yes, the recovery was hard. Yes, I had a moment of "What the fuck did I do to myself!?" But yes, it has also improved my quality of life (and wardrobe!!). Yes, it has most definitely improved my self esteem because I was VERY self conscious of their size. And no, I am no longer in pain every day.

This is MAJOR surgery. If anyone out there is considering this surgery to improve their quality of life I say go for it. But make sure you have a good support system at home because you will need help, and a lot of it. And if you need the name of my doctor please don't hesitate in asking. xo

There's No Bad in This Romance

I never win. I buy scratch tickets. I never win. I enter raffles. I never win. Whenever it comes to winning by chance I, wait for it....never win. I'm okay with it.  The raffles I enter are almost always for a charity so in the grand scheme of things, when we donate to a cause we are passionate about, we are all winners. Yeah, you can totally barf at last sentence. Because people like winning stuff. People like getting stuff for "free." I am no exception to that sentiment. So now that we have established that I have crap luck with winning anything but I would really like to win something awesome, I just want to tell you that I won something. Something BIG. Something that involves charity and a great love of mine. LADY frickin GAGA.

Lady Gaga has established a foundation with her mother, Cynthia Germanotta, that takes a stand against bullying. As you may know, I feel strongly about bullying and gay rights. I'm not going to go off on a tangent about that right now but it is something, as a mother and basically decent human being, I really am passionate about. The foundation is called The Born This Way Foundation (www.bornthiswayfoundation.org) and they are formally launching today at Harvard University in lovely Cambridge Massachusetts. When I saw this posted I knew I had to be there. I planned on going with my fellow die hard  "Little Monsters" but unfortunately, if you wanted to go you had to enter a raffle and be one of the lucky FIVE people that were chosen randomly by computer. I entered and thought  no more of it because I never win. I was at work Monday, took a quick peek at Facebook and saw  that the names would be chosen and revealed later that day. I went about my day, doing hair, when I called my husband to check on the kids days at school. After a bit of chatter about the kids, he asked me what I had won. I was confused because I was at work all day and yes, never win. Long and confusing story short, in turns out I won. I won the Lady Gaga raffle. I was in shock and weepy. I went home after my work day, checked out all the details and then couldn't sleep that night.

I bought a new dress and broke out in hives. I am beyond excited. I am thrilled to be able to part of the launch of a foundation that I know will help a lot of young people who have no support system to help them through what could destroy them. Please check out the link I provided and see what you can do to help kids who may otherwise have no help at all. Be kind to each other, take care of the ones that need it and don't be afraid of being true to yourself. And when you get the chance, dance and bring a little glamour into your life. It's how Lady Gaga (and I) would do it.

Outside My GD Mind...

I can't workout for at least another three weeks. I haven't worked out in a month. My muscle tone is gone. My cardio vascular system is in deep hibernation. So I decided that now would be a great time to sign up for a 5K. And not just any old 5K, but a Zombie infested OBSTACLE course 5K. Smart, huh?

I love horror movies, I love zombies. I love being scared by the things that go bump in the night. I really love being social and having a fun time. So when I saw the commercial for the Zombie 5K during a break in The Walking Dead, I thought it would be an awesome time. Zombies, a group of people having fun. Beer! Problem with that is, I don't run. I don't like to run. And I am medically not allowed to run. So signing up for a 5K sounds like a great idea, right?

So now I have to figure out a way to start training without hurting myself. I think I will take advantage of this mild winter weather and start walking through the conservation land close by with the dog, because we all know that fat bitch needs to amp up her workout!

http://runforyourlives.com/

Oh This Week!!

This week has been both so awesome and so much of a shit show. I'm exhausted just thinking about the last five days. I was hoping to have a quiet, relaxing, last week before I headed back to work. But things have a way of getting screwed up, don't they?

Monday was every one's favorite holiday, MY BIRTHDAY. I turned 35 (!!!!!) and spent the day watching the kind of movies that Paul hates and that I can't watch with the kids (oh Breaking Dawn Part 1, how do I love thee!). We went to eat at one of the tastiest restaurants on the East Coast (http://www.gibbethillgrill.com/) and I had some of my favorite dishes. The grilled cheese appetizer comes with tomato soup and it will knock your socks right off. The meatloaf, oh the meatloaf!!! I can't tell you how much I love it! But the creme brulee will make you weep in your ramekin. They had a coffee creme brulee on Monday and let's just say if I could have married it, had its babies and then ate our offspring I would have. I got some great presents.  Paulie and the kids got me a gift card to Victoria's Secret to buy some new tiny bras. And the kicker...my children were well behaved the entire time!


Tuesday was Valentine's Day, which is MY favorite holiday. I had a great day filled with new experiences. But seriously? Any holiday that involves chocolate and flowers? Sign me up twice.


So Wednesday my love fest came crashing down. Lucie was sick and stayed home with me. We snuggled and she coughed all over me. That night I found out that my manager at the salon was unjustly fired, opening up Pandora's Box. Thursday was no better. Lulu was still sick and she missed her school field trip, which at 8 years old, is completely devastating. Colin had therapy but due to a few mess ups in the office with scheduling he didn't get his session. And then the Celtics lost. Damn you Chi-town. Damn you.


So this all leads us to today. Lulu is still home sick and Colin came home from school a half an hour after he started. More salon drama and...my mother called. There was a two hour period this morning when I thought that there was a very good chance my brain might have exploded. But on a positive note, today is the three week mark since my surgery. I am feeling good. I had a small mourning period there for a few days but now I love the girls. I kinda think they are perfect. I am going out tonight to get some fresh air, buy some smaller shirts, and watch Channing Tatum take his shirt off in The Vow.


So if I am a bitch tomorrow please know that it isn't most of you and Sunday is the start of a new week. I promise it will be rainbows and kittens, or at least clear skies and cute adult cats.

FrankenBoobs

I just got home from my post op appointment. It has been a week and 5 days since the surgery. I was really getting annoyed with the dressings. The incisions were closed up with stitches, glue and surgi strips. The incisions were made in an anchor formation. (If you have read any previous posts, you may have seen the short video I posted. The technique used in that video is the same as my surgeon used.) The dressings on the underside of each breast was becoming annoyingly itchy. I couldn't wait to have my doctor remove them and then I could really get a good view of how I thought they would ultimately look.

The removal of the dressings was a relief but also a bit painful. My doctor told me that they looked great and that over time they would drop a bit, fill in and look beautiful and natural. Also, I have very cystic breasts and I can't feel any of the usual bumps and lumps. My doctor agreed that, yes, I do indeed have very cystic breasts and the best thing to do is just continue doing what I normally do to keep an eye on them. We put some gauze on the incisions as they may ooze a little and that is completely normal. I put my surgical bra back on and scheduled my next appointment. I didn't look at them in the office because I wanted to work my way through the maze of the hospital and get home  as the hospital is just about an hour away.

When I got home I was able to take a good look at them, my husband as well. They look weird. The nipples look fake and the skin there is super dry. There was more cutting up along the sides of each breast than I had anticipated. My husband said they look fake, like someone stuck them on my chest and they do. I am very intrigued to see how much the scars actually do fade and how they will look in a few weeks time.

So for now I am still forbidden to lift any heavy objects and I must take it easy. No yoga until at least 6 weeks post op. I can do some walking either outdoors or on the treadmill but absolutely no running. Considering how sore they are I am totally fine with these restrictions.  I am so impatient, I want everything done yesterday, so this has been really difficult for me because I just want to be done convalescing. However, I am very happy that I decided to take three weeks off. I am going to to take it very easy for the rest of this week and then hopefully by Sunday I will be doing some kind of fitness routine. Also, Monday (February 13th) is my birthday and I plan on eating a big delicious meal and enjoying cake.

My next appointment with the good doctor is March 7th. If I note anything interesting/painful/weird/amazing about them I will most definitely post something but for now we will assume that no news is good news!

One Week In...

So after a week of rest, LOTS of napping, some dizzy/nausea attacks from not eating enough, some pain in the breast/armpit area and the worst constipation I have ever had, I am happy to report the worst (hopefully) is over. So now that you know how my body reacted to the surgery let's talk about the subject at hand, my fancy little new breasts.

They are TINY. And when I say tiny, I mean tiny for me. As a friend put it to me this morning, a C cup is nothing to complain about it. I am definitely not complaining about them because I do like them. I can't stop looking at them. I find that I am having a hard time keeping my hands off of them, and for a few reasons. Holy crap they are itchy. Like so itchy that I can't think of much else except how I would love to dig my nails into the skin and rake them back and forth in an absolute fit of ecstasy. The nipples have not only NOT lost any sensation but I swear to your higher power of choice, they have MORE feeling. And the breasts felt hard for awhile, almost like a  bad implant, but they are beginning to soften up. And no, there is nothing in there except what my momma gave me. The most sensitive spot is still where the drainage tubes were but that is feeling much better as well. I have been able to sleep on my side more. Also, when I do (rarely) sleep on my back I usually have my arms raised up over my head. I woke like that this morning and I wasn't in pain. 

The bruising has faded and some of the surgi strips are coming loose. After my post op visit next week and the dressings from the drainage tubes are changed or removed, I'm sure they will be looking good. But most importantly, they have made me feel good and that is really what this is all about.

Phase Two

Surgery was about three hours. I was asking P about my recovery because there is not a lot I remember about that two and a half/three hour period. I was in and out and I hate that feeling. There is nothing worse to me than trying to be in control and there is something getting in the way of that. That's one of the reasons why I won't get drunk anymore. Anyway,  I was laying in recovery, floating in and out of consciouness. P said he wasn't allowed to see me there so he hung around and waited until I was in my room. P also said I was awake when he came to visit me in my room. I don't really recall that either. It was all blurry. I remember being super hungry and very, very nausous. My first nurse of the night, who was so amazing and kind, got me a pukie bag and chicken soup. I think she brought me ginger ale and crackers before that, but again, it's all kind of blurry. The sip of soup and gingerale/crackers combo didn't agree with me at all and it came right up. This is nothing new for me. Every time I get anesthia I throw up. I decided to try and sleep and slept until about 10:30. I turned on the tv to see if I could see the score to the Celtics game, had some dry toast and slept. I was woken by the night nurse around midnight for my vitals. It was a long sleepless night. I threw up one more time and had the loudest talker (shockingly louder than me!) down the hall and I was also in some pain. The next morning I actually pounded my breakfast of bacon and eggs and coffee, blessed blessed heavenly sent from your higher power of choice COFFEE.

I thought that I may have had to go home with my drainage tubes. Drainage tubes, you say? Oh yes. Long skiny tubes that were wound up inside my new tiny ladies and were attached to a bulb of some kind. The night nurse drained them once. Two doctors came in and checked the output level and decided to take them out. I have had a catheter before when I had the kids so I thought it would feel similar to that sensation and it did. It burned a little. The strangest sensation was that I could feel them moving inside the breast as they were being pulled out. The doctors dressed them and that was it. The spots where the tubes were are actually the most sensitive part of the whole breast. I was seen by a couple more doctors, my plastic surgeon included, and was allowed to go home before noon. My doctor informed me that I needed to be wearing my surgical bra at all times (except, obviously, when I was showering). I was sent home with a prescription for percosets and one for an antibotic. I was taken down to the entrance in a wheel chair but when I saw P pull the car up I walked out on my own two legs. I felt a little weak and cold but other than that I was fine. I got car sick (no throwing) on the way home but I get car sick 99% of the time I am in a car and not driving.

The kids greeted me tentatively at the door. I went right up to bed and slept for while. I could have taken a shower but I felt crappy and just wanted to sleep. The first night home was rough. You need to sleep propped up and I am a side/belly sleeper. I was up every four hours like clockwork. I took a percoset every time I was up and that helped. Sunday morning I ate a very light breakfast. Even though I was hungry I had zero appetite. I had a shower, so happy to shave my armpits and wash my hair. It wasn't painful to lift my arms, something that I had anticipated, and was pleasantly surprised when it didn't happen. I rested all day and the kids were great about being gentle. I didn't take any more of the percs during the day. I managed the pain with Extra Strength Tylenol. I did take one Sunday night to sleep.

Monday was more resting and another shower. I didn't bother washing my hair. I still hadn't had a bowel movement and I was becoming increasingly anxious. I was farting an obnoxious amount. After I had the Little Man it took me quite a few days to go and when I finally did, it was worse than child birth. The amount of apple sauce, fruit, dried apicots, stool softener, water I consumed was disturbing. My stomach was as hard as a rock and it certainly wasn't my abs of steel. Monday night was an uncomfortable sleeping night but I wasn't about to take another perc because I was determined to poop. After a restless night and a lot of hard work, we had splash down Tuesday morning.

Uncomfortable doesn't cover how it felt. I was farting all day and had some major stomach cramps. After dinner I spent the next hour and a half in PAIN and trying to go again. I was in tears at one point and my son was in the bathroom with me rubbing my back. Pooping in our house is a family affair. I went to bed, the kids snuggled as gently as possible, and we read stories. I went to bed and woke on my side.

So this brings us to today. I woke up with some pain in my right armpit. I took off the sports bra and let the girls air out a little. I took a shower, shaved, washed and dried my hair. I feel like a whole new gal! I have been taking it super easy today. The tender spot is no longer sore. I took some Tylenol at 9 am and it is past two now.  The most sore areas are still where the drainage tubes were. I have complete feeling on every part of the breast. The surgi strips and dressings are still in place. I have a follow up with my surgeon on the 8th.

It is very strange for me to see myself with these little breasts. They are cute. They don't rest on my belly or flop into my armpits. Any back/neck/shoulder pain I used to have is gone. The straps on the surgical bra aren't digging into the skin on my shoulders. I went from having a left breast clocking in around an E cup and a right one coming in at a DDD to a perky C cup. I can't wait to see them after they have healed up. I am beyond thrilled that I can go BRALESS this summer. I can wear the tank tops with the built in bras and that's it. I can wear my cute summer dresses with the tiny straps and not have my giant bra straps showing. I can wear halters and backless dresses and not be in pain anymore.

I am feeling pretty good but I am determined to take it easy. I have a history of taking on more than I can and should do. I want to be able to go back to work feeling good. I want to heal so I can go back to being a mom and back to be being a (slighter hotter) wife. I am hoping to be able to start working out again sometime next week. Oh, and for those who may be wondering, I went into surgery at 149 lbs. I weighted myself after the initial big poop and I am down to 146 lbs.

Phase One

Alright kiddos, I had a bilateral breast reduction surgery on Friday, January 27th. There has been a lot of build up leading to my surgery because this is something I have wanted for quite awhile. I wanted to post something the night before surgery but I was really anxious and excited and the words weren't coming out right at all. I figured I would be better articulating my thoughts and emotions after the procedure was done, after the anticipation, after the pain meds wore off. You can catch up with the pre surgery stuff in earlier posts.

The night before surgery I had to fast, which is probably my least favorite part of surgery. Seriously. I love to eat and I NEED my morning coffee. I ate a pretty substantial dinner, put the kids to bed, checked on some last minute things for the kids. I had to remove any and all piercings (I have a few in my ears) and remove any nail polish. I was exhausted and went to bed on the earlier side. I woke up and P and I got the kids ready for school. I took a shower and washed my hair knowing that it could be quite a few days before I would be able to wash it again. I did one last big poop and knowing that it would be the last one for few days, I savored it. Yes, I savored dropping a deuce.

I needed to be at the hospital by 10 am to prep for surgery that was scheduled at noon. We headed into MGH and for once we were crazy early. After about 20 minutes I was called in by the nurse who started all of my pre surgery paperwork. I was in a room and changed into a hospital gown, robe, compression hose and non skid socks. While I was waiting for P to be brought up I was kept "entertained" by the insane couple curtained off next to me. I love listening to townies talk. Paul came up and we watched "Supernatural" until a CNA came up and brought me down to what seemed more like a closet than a prep area.

I was brought down into the what reminded me of a hospital basement. I immediately assumed that I was going to be brought down, hooked up to an i.v. and then left to die at the hands of a serial killer/homicidal ghost. Obviously, neither happened. Instead I had a great nurse talk to me about my health history, allergies, blah blah blah. The anesthesiologist was a  guy with a thick Chinese accent and a great sense of humor. That guy inserted that i.v. needle with a stealthiness I could really appreciate. I was asked by the nurse if I had been marked yet. Since this was my first foray into plastic surgery I had no idea what that meant so I said, "Marked? Like, marked by the Beast?" We had a good laugh but she checked the back of my head under my hair for good measure.

My doctor came in and began marking me. He asked if his Resident could watch. I told him I wasn't that kind of girl anymore but I figured it would be okay one last time. At that point I think my breasts had been looked at and/or touched by a dozen or so people so really, a medical resident who would be watching the surgery anyway watching my doctor coloring on me was not a big deal. After I was marked I was instructed to lay back down and I was wheeled into the OR. The nurses in there were all so sweet and funny. I still wasn't nervous at that point and one of the women commented on how nice it was that I was joking and laughing. The nurses put some compression boots on my legs so I wouldn't develop any blood clots. I was given some oxygen and then my i.v. started to kick in. Bye bye old saggy heavy breasts. Thanks for the good times. See you on the other side.

Car Accidents and Kittens

Car accidents happen. They seem to happen to me a lot when it snows. They seem to always happen when I am driving the truck to work on a Saturday. Snowstorms always seem to befuddle me and cause me to ignore the little voice in the back of my head that is screaming, "STAY HOME!!!  STAY HOME!!! STAY HOME!!!" So I bundle up and jump in the truck. I put it in four wheel drive and slide out of the driveway. The voice is more insistent now but I choose to ignore it because I will be out of work for quite a few weeks and I don't have the "luxury" of paid vacations and/or sick days. I have the "luxury" of being able to take the time off for surgery and not lose my job.

So here I am at home after my accident. I'm on the couch, sore as hell, tired, anxious, pissed off. I am procrastinating calling the insurance agent so I can make a claim. That is a whole lot of crap I don't feel like dealing with. I would love to be getting ready for work and my car wasn't all busted up and my neck wasn't all jacked up. I would love to be getting in some extra workouts so I could be going into my surgery Friday in optimal shape.  I hate to whine, I really do. Being negative and complaining takes up so much more energy than I care to expend.

So I am going to turn this around. I am taking that negative energy and pushing it away. I want it to dissipate out into the universe. I am going to sit here and breathe and set a positive intention for the day. If I can't psychically be in amazing shape, at least mentally I can be in a better, more balanced, place. If breathing doesn't help maybe these cute pictures of kittens will. xo

What Rhymes With Anxious?

My surgery is just about a week away. While I am very excited to have the procedure done, I am becoming increasingly anxious. I keep thinking about the fact that I won't be able to work out for about 6 weeks, specifically, no yoga for about 6 weeks. Aside from the fact that yoga (in conjunction with coffee and zoloft 'natch) keep me sane, yoga keeps me limber and strong. Yoga keeps my weight low(ish).  Yoga helps to flush all the toxins out of my system and reminds me to stop and focus on the breath.  Yoga reminds me that I could, one day, be the complete person I want to be. And the fact that I won't be able to practice for such an extended amount of time is almost heartbreaking for me.

This impending absence in my life has lead to even more presurgery anxiety. And when I'm anxious, I eat. I am excellent at eating away my worries and sorrows. And of course, the foods I tend to binge on are probably the worst things for you.  Chocolate, pasta, pizza, cheese, fruit, pastry, cake, ice cream. The last few days alone have been spent consuming my weight in things that could easily double that weight if I continue down this delicious path. I'm in panic mode. I am terrified of putting on a ton of weight and losing all of my muscle tone. I'm worried that I won't be able to get back into shape after I return to working out. These fears have taken a back seat to the fear of the pain, possible infections, the fact that I will look and very much feel differently about myself. But I can easily complain about not working out because that is tangible. And  as superficial as it may be, it is easily  understood.

Most people don't like to talk about the messy stuff (feelings) and I just want to put on a brave face for my husband and children. So I just stuff those feelings down with scones which will lead to me stuffing my fat ass into my soon to be too small jeans.  But I will have a great new rack, and that's pretty good, right?

Youtube? Don't you mean Boobtube!?

This is the second post in a series regarding my upcoming breast reduction surgery, which I am slightly obsessed with. When I called to make my initial consultation hadn't planned on being seen the following day. Because of the short notice, Paul was unable to come to my consultation with me. Because of this, I decided to search the internet, specifically youtube, for some visual aides. I found a ton of videos regarding breast reduction surgery from start (consults) to finish (the final unveiling) and I managed to find one that not only had a delightful British surgeon but was only about 4 minutes long. Paulie was pretty horrified by the whole thing. I had a very hard time watching some of these videos knowing that the woman on the table would soon be me. So this is for anyone who may be interested in getting this done yourself or for the morbidly curious. I want to warn everyone right now, this is NOT safe for viewing at work. It is also inappropriate for children and the squimish. xo tmfv


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GrumbleGrumbleGrumble

     I'm sick you guys. Like sore throat, cough, headache, all around feeling yucky sick.  And I think I may be coming down with an ear infection. Or maybe strep. Possibly even the typhoid. I feel like someone put my head in a vise and that asshole keeps squeezing even though I asked nicely. I totally used my good manners but they won't stop. I know that you guys really don't care that I am under the weather. You're all like, yeah, so? We've all been unwell at one time or another but you don't see us blogging about it. Well, that's probably because I have a blog and you don't.
     But seriously, this is cold and flu season. So just make sure you all cough in your sleeves, wash your hands and if you are sick, stay home. No one wants your germs. Stay away from babies and the elderly. And someone bring me some goddamn soup.

My Cup Runneth Over

     I have large breasts. I have had big ones since I was about 12. As soon as puberty hit and all the natural changes started happening I sprouted a set of breasts that embarrassed me, made me insecure, made me unhappy with my body. I wasn't the only one to notice the new editions to my newly pubescent body. Attention was coming from all sides; boys in school, adult men, flatter chested girls in my classes. I hated them. I hated the attention. I pretended it didn't bother me. I walked with a slouch. As I got older I learned what an "asset" they could be. I started to like the attention I would get from the boys in school and later, men in college/bars/clubs. I showed them off, flaunted them. Years later, I would love them for another reason. They provided nurtition and comfort to my newborns. By that time I was sporting a bra sized 40E. After I weaned the babes, they shrunk down to a "tiny" 36DDD. 
     They are saggy. They are covered in stretch marks and "Lefty" has a scar from a surgery I had when I was 21. They have been ultrsounded, mammogrammed, poked and prodded. They get in the way when I do yoga. Forget any kind of cardio. They flop around like two large tunas pulled from the ocean, gasping for air only to find none.  I have thought about breast reduction surgery for quite a few years. I always thought I would wait until I was 40. Now, a few months shy of 35, I have decided I can no longer wait. My back kills, I have chronic neck and shoulder pains. I have daily headaches. My shoulders have deep gouge marks where my bra straps dig deeper into the skin by the day. The skin on my back is constantly chafed.
     Aside from the physical pain, I can't find any shirts that fit properly.  I have to buy bigger shirts so they will fit across my chest but they don't fit properly on my narrow shoulders. Button downs are a joke. Anything that has a slightly tighter fit looks positively pornographic.
     Now I know some of you less well endowed ladies are probably rolling your eyes and sarastically muttering, "Oh poor you." and that is fine. This is my thing, my own personal hangup. The thing that I hate about my body. The thing I have to deal with in every aspect of my life. The thing that makes dressing difficult (and we all know how much I love my fashion), yoga postions uncomfortable, running impossible. I am going to chronicle my experience with my breast reduction surgery.  I already had my consult and that went well. I like my surgeon. And while I am very excited, I will admit that I am scared silly. Surgery isn't something to take lightly. Pain and I are don't like to hang out much but I am intrigued to see how I react to my new physical self. A body that will be so different from the one I've had for the last (almost) 35 years.

Hold The Pose, Not The Breath

When I am in class and in a pose that I find difficult, I keep in mind the saying "Hold the pose, not the breath." Taking a super deep breath while in a twist can be hard. Concentrating on proper alignment and remembering to keep breathing isn't easy. For 90 minutes during class I put so much effort into breathing but as soon as class is over I forget. I forget to take time to stop and fill my lungs and clear my head. There are moments in the day that an "ocean sounding" breath would provide so much relief. Stuck in traffic, dealing with an upset child, holiday blues all warrant taking a few seconds to stop and breath. Don't hold your breath when going through the poses of life.

It's Been a Long Long Time.

Life has been crazy hectic lately and with the impending doom, ahem holidays, approaching it doesn't appear that the Crazy Train will be slowing down or making any stops in the near future.  As some of you may know, I am not a huge fan of the holidays. I have something close to PTSD when it comes to this time of year. The stress and memories of holidays past often result in sleepless nights, crying, yelling and full body hives.  I try every year to slow down and be thankful for the things I have and concentrate on the positives, blah blah fucking blah.  I decided instead to concentrate and write down two lists. The things I hate and the things I love. This is probably going be really silly, and that is my point entirely. Please feel free to add your own list of irrational hatreds. I now present to you, in no particular order...

Things I Hate
*obviously I hate pedophiles, rape, murder and homophobia so I won't include those because you should just know that*

*drivers not using their blinkers
*the following words: panties, moist, precious
*inane FB status updates. Wow, your to do list. I don't give a shit.
*toothpaste in the sink
*indecisiveness
*not eating dinner early (I love the Early Bird Special)
*too much cologne
*rednecks and country music
*people who can't park correctly
*older white women who use the word "bling"
*people who don't figure out what they want to order until they are at the front of the line. Figure that shit out before hand people
*socks and sandles
*snakes
*cheap tissues
*picking up dog poo
*people who don't pick up their dogs poo
*constipation
*the Catholic Church/religious zealots
*skeevy older men
*guys that wear their pants 18 sizes too big/too small
*smoking
*stoners
*bad spelling
*Cambridge women and their long smelly gray braids

Things I Love
*my babes are number one forever and always*

*yoga
*the color pink
*black coffee
*chandeliers
*getting flowers
*when my kids fart. It is always funny.
*a good blow out
*sweater vests
*cats
*vampires of any kind/scary stuff
*going to the movies
*napping
*good tequila
*the Fall
*fashion
*dancing/disco balls/LADY GAGA
*snuggling
*nice hotels
*musicmusicmusicsingingsingingsinging
*exploring
*clothes on dogs
*my best friend Paul's sense of humor
*my girlfriends
*fake eyelashes
*drag queens
*goat cheese
*farm animals
*high heels
*my house
*legalizing gay marriage
*home improvement shows
*books
*internet shopping
*people watching


I'm sure that I will think of many more throughout the day but this little smattering of my warped psyche should be enough to give you pause to think and please, judge me freely.

When It's Time to Change....

     The Autumnal Equinox is upon us kids and with each new season comes a wave of change. The Winter is a cold hard time where plants and animals escape the bitterness by hunkering down, hiding  and hiberbating; waiting until the Spring brings a little bit of warmth, sunshine and linger days, an awakening. The Summer gives us heat and sunshine that goes past childrens bedtimes. The Fall brings us change. It brings about a shedding of sorts and a need for preparedness. The trees drop their leaves. The animals forage and store food. The weather cools and we begin our subconsious descent into a slower time, a longer night. I love the Fall. I love that manditory change.
      I can't stop the seasons. I can't stop time and the Fall reminds me to accept these changes.  It's in those moments that I choose to breathe. Breathe deeply and let go. Sit and watch the leaves move in the breeze. Feel the chill in the air and wrap your arms a little more tightly around yourself. Take a walk and listen and feel and just breathe in the changes.  Accept what is going on around you and embrace it. Be thankful for this reminder, the reminder that sometimes there are things we can't control. Sometimes things in our lives will change, will wither, will leave. We may want to run but we shouldn't because change will always catch up with you. I'm going to try and be more like the tree than the leaf. I will drop the things I need to let go of to change, to become a better  more deeply rooted person. I will try and be the tree.
     Yes Ned Stark, the Winter is indeed coming. I think the Fall is a brilliant and beautiful way to cast things off and prepare for the darker, more cold days ahead. Shed what we don't need in order to focus on what we do for the what we may face ahead. Let go and accept and breathe.