Hungry

Due to an ongoing search for new birth control that doesn't make me break out OR leave me bleeding 20 days of the month, my body is a little out of wack.

I just finished the 10th (yes, TENTH) day of Aunt Flo's visit. That is over, but apparently PMS 2 weeks ago kicked my metabolism into a different drive. Is it faster or slower? Only the scale will tell.

Now I am either ravenously hungry or feel completely full. All the time. I eat a meal of any portion or level of healthfulness and feel stuffed. The full and satisfied feeling lasts for 2-3 hours, which means that I am aware of FEELING FULL for 2-3 hours.

And then the hunger strikes. My stomach actually growls. Am I in the 7th grade again? When did my stomach last growl loud enough for other people to hear?

I physically feel hungry at least 6 hours of the day. This is because I refuse to feed a starved feeling body that told me I was full only 10 minutes ago. I also refuse to eat around the clock...unless there is a pity party involved.

Here is my nugget of wisdom from a jacked up body: Physical hunger, the feeling of an empty and growling stomach, is easier for me to ignore than emotional hunger. Anyone who has an unhealthy relationship with food knows the difference.

Is my stomach growling? Oh well. I don't need a cup of ice cream. The pain will go away.

Am I feeling lonely and depressed about something important in my life? That damned cup of ice cream won't shut up until I eat it. I MUST eat it, for it will replace the lack of comfort and love in my life.

Sad, but true. I can ignore my body, but not my emotions. Maybe that will change as I get closer to 40...that gives me 7 1/2 more years to find out.

grow some lady parts

This is my catch phrase. I taught it to teenagers a few years ago because they kept yelling "grow some balls!" during ultimate frisbee games.

Balls? That doesn't make sense. Balls are the most sensitive, vulnerable, and wimpy part of the human anatomy. If you hit a man in the balls, he is down. If you injure a man's balls, he may lose one. You even have to watch how you TOUCH a man's balls...which is not exactly a beloved national past time (at least for me).

The vagina, on the other hand, goes through a lot of tough shit. It sees blood on a regular basis. It adapts to whatever is thrown at it. It can be ripped apart while a HUMAN passes through it and still heal to see another day. Women are forced to accept pain on a regular basis because our lady parts are rearranging themselves (also known as menstruation).

Is someone being weak? Tell them to grow some lady parts. Balls will only give them another weakness.

Tonight I wanted to tell a college student to grow some lady parts. "My parents don't understand me." Waaaaa. "I don't know where home is anymore." booohooo. "My friends don't call often enough or text back when I want them." poor thing.

These are valid life experiences and are especially jarring during college when you seem to live in transition. I know this in my head because I am a well-trained minister. Emotionally, though, I just want to tell this girl to start growing some lady parts. Apparently, I am a cold hearted bitch in my 30's. Oh well.

I love this place! Oh, now I hate myself...or do I?

Today I went to a different grocery store that is 10 minutes closer to the big city. I've heard that it is a step above the local Food Lion but still smaller than the super-fancy yuppy stores that I used in Atlanta.

Hello Lowe's Food! I love you! I walked in and was reminded of all the grocery luxaries you give up living in a small town. Boar's Head deli meats? Check. Fancy bakery with pretty cakes and an entire display made just for muffins? Check. Great produce and plenty of good looking single men shopping on a Saturday afternoon? Double check!

I was immediately aware of my clothing choice when every high school bag boy looked at my chest and then smiled wide friendly smiles at me. Ego boost? Check! I love this place!


The woman at the deli counter had a different take on my cleavage showing maxi dress, loose crazy hair, and lack of make-up. When I got to the counter to order, she smiled really big and said, "Now, is this your husband?"

I turn around to glance at who she was referring to...a big, beer-bellied, white haired biker dude complete with leather vest and bandana on his head.

"Um, no. (friendly smile to hide my shock) I don't know him."

Whaaaat? Should I hate myself? Does messy hair and no make-up make me look like a biker chick? Do I look that old?

Apparently, I've lived in a farming town long enough that I've let myself go. I can no longer walk into the somewhat fancy grocery store and fit in. I belong with the biker dude.

A small part of me thinks it is kind of bad ass to be mistaken for a biker wife. The minister who is married to the bearded biker(who was actually married per the ring on his hand and well groomed under the leather vest). That is a fun thought.

Nah. That small part of me does not overshadow the shame of being the trashy girl in the still not-that-fancy store close to the big city. It is time to start exercising and putting on make-up again.

hopeful living

Beautiful weather, the return of short summer dresses, and a haitus from birth control all leave me inspired. I now want to make changes to my life that will feed hope for the future.

It is time to start working out again. A lot. I don't care about losing weight (although I should) but I need to rebuild muscle and stamina. I will go back to the pool. I downloaded music and prompts for Couch to 5K, which I know will last about a week before I give up in pain.

I shaved my legs ABOVE the knee and began the long process of transforming my feet from a calloused mess to smooth and beautiful.

Yes, people, it is time! I am ready for hopeful living! This is the beginning of a journey to prepare for great things ahead...

I decided this week that I want to spend a long stretch of time preparing for sex.

You read that correctly. Sex.

As of today, I will live as a woman who hopes to have lots and lots of sex in the future. Not just getting laid, but good sex. I am talking about love nest weekends in which you do nothing but eat, drink, sleep, and get it on. Over and over again.

If I found the man of my dreams right now and we made love, I would be mediocre at best. I am way too out of shape. The prep time for anyone to see me naked in the next couple of months would be exhausting. I'd be worn out before we even started!

Now I am going to live as a woman who hopes to have great sex far in the future. I don't have time, energy, or a desire to fall in love any time soon. I don't even want a man in my house or on my phone. I do want to have something to look forward to...to live in hope.

Hope for a lot of great, sweaty, dirty, loving, committed sex.

Lap pool, here I come!

I need a day off from my free time

Today was one of the last days off I will have for another two months or so. Did I go to work? No. (although I am now starting a 11pm-7am shift, so "day off" is disputable)

I am still exhausted.

12:30am- a text saying "Osama Bin Laden is dead!" that didn't bring me joy but pissed me off because I got a text at 12:30am

6:00am- wake up sweating from a nightmare about hiding babies from bad guys

9:00am- wake up from nightmare about trying to find the babies again

11:00am- wake up happy that I slept a total of 8 hours!

11:30am- Read email from my friend, the school counselor, saying that a teenage girl might give her baby up for adoption. Is my wonderful, rich, kind, and barren cousin in Texas still interested?

Noon- call mom to get cousin's phone number. Spend 1 hour listening to her tell me about my sister's relapse into alcoholism and how much she is screwing up my family.

1:00pm- resist the urge to drink because I am so depressed about my sister

1:15pm- talk to my cousin about the baby. Tip-toe and tap-dance around a huge, emotional, and life-changing topic. Listen to her cry and struggle.

1:45pm- email friend my cousin's phone number


(now I had a stretch of time in which I ate Blue Bell ice cream and watched TV in my pj's. it. was. awesome.)

5:30pm- Get a call from frantic teenager. She just had sex with her boyfriend and the condom broke. Listen to her spend 1 hour voicing all of the panic and fear that I've heard from so many other women. And myself. I agree to go to the drugstore with her tomorrow to learn about the PlanB pill and get spermicide to use with condoms.

6:45pm- Pray that I can support this kid without losing my job.

All through the day, I had to read people's comments on Facebook about Bin Laden's death. Whether they were good or bad comments, it made me feel tired just to be a human.

An adoption arrangement, a relapsing sister, and a panicky sexed-up teenager. All were accompanied by a historical bullet to the head. This day off left me exhausted. I need a break.

worst trade ever

Well, my cold is nearly gone, which is awesome.

I was happy until 11:30pm when my stomach turned. What? Oh wait. Maybe the 10 trips to the bathroom today weren't because of too many cough drops.

Pepto chugged? Check.
Toilet and bathroom wiped down? Check.
New towel placed on the floor in front of toilet? Check.

Now I am sitting on the couch and waiting to see if I am going to spend the entire night on my knees...in a bad way. Actually, the alternative way to spend the night on my knees is equally bad. Not a fan.

ANYWAY, if this turns into a stomach virus, I am going to start re-evaluating my life. God is punishing me for something.


You benefit from my queasy stomach. This is the least gross, cutest toilet picture I could find.

walking petri dish

You know those sci-fi movies where one person is sick, and walks all around town spreading their toxic liquids around the world all the while looking nastier by the moment? That was me this week. Correction, that is STILL me.

I am now on day 5 of a nasty cold that came just in time for the chaos of Holy Week. Normally when I get sick (which hasn't been often this year), it is because I stayed up all night with teenagers or quit eating anything healthy for a few weeks or something of that nature. I can point to an event or decision and say "damn, I deserve this."

This cold is different. It hit me out of the blue in a stretch of time when I was sleeping well, eating well, and even working in the yard (as opposed to sitting on the couch with my dog). There is not a cold epidemic in my town...it is just me.

Miserable, feverish, dark green snot, coughing, sore throat, infected ears and everything. It is still a common cold. The doctor can't do anything for you.

I am happy to report that 3 days of complete silence (sorry friends for not answering the phone or being coherent enough to text to say that I am not answering the phone) and countless cups of hot tea allowed me to preserve my voice for early Easter morning preaching. After the sermon, I quit drinking all of the damned tea and actually spoke to people from a safe distance. Now my voice is going, going, gone. Who cares now?

Okay, I'm done whining! Here is the cool-to-me experience from having a cold:

I blew my nose into a tissue and threw it in the toilet without flushing it. Who wastes water on just tissue? Not this earth-day woman! The next morning, the germs from one tissue somehow multiplied and grew an actual ring around my toilet. OVERNIGHT. That is nasty and awesome at the same time!

Happy Easter, world! This preacher is now going to bed with her most recent lovers: cough drops, tissues, nyquil, and vicks vapo-rub.