Memory Foam

I was recently reading an article about muscles and the body. It was actually focused around a timeline of Brittany Spears' abdominal. Through out a one year period, Brittany's stomach went from teeny-tiny, to a gut and then cut, once more. In the article a known personal trainer explained that all muscles were actually equivalent to that of "memory Foam". Once you have toned your muscles a certain way, you can actually let them go and then get them back to firm in a relatively short amount of time, thus "memory foam"and thus, Brittany's Abs.
Crap! I thought, what if you never had Brittany's stomach, ever? What if you at one time or another , resembled another famous entertainer, like say, Sham mu? Does this mean, in a relatively short amount of time, I will "memory foam" myself back to the profile highly regarded by Sea World?
Does "memory foam" for me, mean the opposite?
So what about my long time effort of getting "desserts" low-fat, and sugar-free? What about the fact I haven't had Salad Dressing in 7 years? Does the "memory foam" theory mean that after digesting one normal (and probably better tasting) brownie, my stomach will balloon out, I will grow "cankels" and my butt will be once again four-dimensional?
Dang it!

Jumping off a Cliff

Yesterday I went to my Doctor with my same old issues I haven't been able to shake. I haven't felt well, I haven't been sleeping at night. I diet all of the time and have increased my exercises but haven't lost a pound. A new issue has arisen, I've been having trouble with memory loss. I told myself it was cancer. It's not that I hope to have cancer, not at all. I have this tendency to assume the worse, that way when I find out what the issue really is, I have already dealt with the emotions of the worse case scenario. In a weird way, handling situations this way has given me hope.
After a really long office visit (2 and a half hours), I was told I needed to go on Antidepressants.
Antidepressants?!!!
I felt as though I was asked to leap off a cliff, willingly.
I had the sensation I was blind folded, had my hands tied behind my back and was asked to jump. I know what I am jumping into. I have seen over that edge before. I know what is beyond it. I have jumped into that abyss and almost didn't survived.
Two seconds before, I asked my husband who went with me, what if I was told I needed pills?
He, in his normal soothing way, responded, "We'll tell them no. Absolutely not."
I felt reassured.
The two Doctors (one was a resident) came back in the room and explained that I had the signs of Depression.
How could this be? I have been battling Depression for almost my entire life. Two and a half years ago, I rid myself of all the Antidepressants I had been taking for 10 years.
I replaced the pills with regular exercise. I began reading self-help books about Positive self-talk and having a good attitude. I started doing things that scared me, things out of my comfort zone, to make me feel like I was living. I'm talking about, going back to school, and competing in a Triathlon. These types of things, in the name of self discovery.
So here I was in the Doctor's office, having a panic attack over the idea of once again needing to take pills.
I was devastated. I was even wishing for cancer!
My husband looked at me and then back at the two nervous looking Doctors, "OK, we'll give them a try."
Why would he do this to me? Doesn't he remember how I was on pills? I was a zombie, a non-person. I didn't do anything, I simply existed.
The three of them decided to just give me a prescription, in which I could fill it when ever I decided I wanted to. Wanted to?
To tell the truth, I am terrified. It's not the fear of the unknown, it's the fear of the known. After crying all day yesterday,last night I decided to jump.
I realized that for about a year I have been working so hard, only to find I am spinning my wheels. My little tricks to perk myself up have stopped working. I have been feeling despair and anger and that the world is Too big.
I had to jump.
I am constantly talking about taking control of my life. I am constantly working on fixing myself. Maybe instead of thinking I was asked to jump off a cliff, perhaps I've already slipped off the cliff and have been holding on to the deteriorating ground, and haven't noticed there's a net below me waiting to catch me. If I would just let go.
I took my first pill last night. I also forgave my husband for his "betrayal" and am trying to forgive myself for my depression.
I don't know if this will work. I do hope it will.
It's a lot of work jumping off a cliff. I hope I am doing the right thing, and at least have on a parachute.

Mak'economy

I have a gripe with how this bad economy is seeping into my makeup products. I keep spending more money for the stuff I've been using for years and getting less than half of the actual product.
I think people assume I wouldn't notice that my facial cream is only overly-whipped up to the lid and not actually filled to the lid. I am tired of having to buy more and more mascara because mine lasts for two weeks, when before I had it for months. What's up with that? Mean while I am spending 10, 20, 30 and even 40 dollars for half the amount.
I have also noticed foundations now come in new frosted bottles. This is so I can't actually tell how much I am getting.
I understand we are in a recession. I know prices are higher because of it. I also know I don't wear an inch of mascara, foundation and facial cream on my face everyday, ever!
I am tired of having to purchase more and more shampoo and conditioner because those run out every two weeks too. I know I haven't grown more hair. In fact, I keep loosing hair, which is evident by the strands left laying around my bathtub, toilet, shower, vanity and in my hair brush.
I just wish the economy would either stop sticking it's nose in my concealer, or would step up and add more of it in my frosted bottle of makeup.

The Day Trippers

Today I volunteered to help with my seven year old's Field Trip. I haven't been on a Field Trip in roughly twenty years. I had to bring a sack lunch, I smashed into a seat with two other children, one being my son and we were off. The school bus was exactly the way I remembered a school bus being, from the tattered and torn seats, to the rubber floor, to even the smell. Do all school buses smell the same?
We were scheduled for two locations. The first being a visit to The Hale Center Theater in West Valley. Each volunteer parent had approximately 8 children under our watch. Although they were sweet, my group happened to be the most wild. I took this as punishment for not volunteering more in the classroom.
After constantly calling for my group to settle down, to stop running, to keep their hands to themselves, I finally resorted to bribery. I told them that if they were on their best behavior I would bring them some gum. It worked for 2.3 seconds (I have decided to buy them gum anyway).
The woman giving the tour, spoke about how you use your body and your voice as an instrument to show the audience different characters.
She demonstrated by acting like a wicked witch, which the children realized instantly.
The second character was harder for the children. She spoke in a British accent and pretended to be prim and proper. She talked about how her crown kept slipping and how "Tea and Crumpets would be served in 5 minutes on the lawn". She then asked for the kids to raise their hands to guess who she was.
One of the boys in my group raised and waved his hand. The tour guide/actress of course pick him, "What do you think I am?" She asked Thomas. Thomas answered, "I don't know an idiot?"
The first grade teacher stifled a gasp and covered her head in her lap. I was trying to stifle a laugh. Who was this first grader?
Later we went to a Water Conservation Plant. Again the group had to sit through another lecture. The kids were restless, in fact, I was getting restless too.
After the speech about plants we ate our lunches and were handed a clipboard with a list of plants and flowers we were suppose to "find". What fun. I guess in theory this was fun.
We found probably two plants. My group spent our time finding each other because there was always someone who had escaped.
Once back on the bus I asked out loud if this was the part where the adults were given Xanax?
A little while later, still on the bus, and still smashed in a seat with two other kids (by this time, my son wanted nothing to do with me and was sitting with his friends one row behind me), an alarm went off on the bus.
I was looking around trying to figure out what, when and who was setting it off.
The bus driver looked in his enormous rear-view mirror and pointed at me.
"Me?" I asked. He shook his head "Yes".
I was on a fold up seat that lead to the emergency exit door. I was sitting too close to it and I had inadvertently set off the bells and whistles.
I apologized and announced, "there is only so much I can suck in!"
The bus driver smiled but told me as I was leaving he liked having adults sitting in that seat so he wouldn't have to worry about the alarm going off.
I think I proved that theory wrong.
I believe the Field Trip was an over-all nightmare.
If the children were older, maybe that would have worked better.
If we were taken to a park and let loose, maybe that would have worked better, too.
By the end, I was ready for a nap and possibly a Xanax or two.