68 posts tagged “health”
I have come to the conclusion that no matter how far I run, how many lunges I do, how many upward dogs and downward dogs, three legged dogs or pigeon fuckers I do, I will always have my mothers legs.
It has been a disappointing realisation.
By the way, there is no yoga position called a pigeon fucker.
Its just pigeon. But I used to work with a guy and his nickname was The Pigeon Fucker.
Not that he did mind you. Well, not that I know of.
He was french. Its a long story. And I think you had to be there.
Anyway the point is genetics suck.
Its a constant battle fighting them.
I admit to being a Denise Austin fan. Even though she never shuts up. And she always lies. But you get used to that. I now know that when she says
just one more
She doesn't really mean just one more. She means just that one more then a few more after that.
I've been doing the Fat Blasting Yoga dvd. Its pretty strenuous. And just when you think its over she brings out the stability ball and does another 15 minutes.
When I first started doing it a few weeks ago my legs would be wobbling and shaking from the effort but now I'm pretty good. My thighs feel like they're packed with cement actually. Jem was feeling them the other night and said I'll be able to crack coconuts with them. Which I guess could come in handy someday.
And I've lost 5 kilos which is also pretty handy. 4 more to go. But my aim is really firmness. I want to firm up all those bits that start going soft after 40. You know where they are. Triceps, back fat over the bra, thighs, well lots of places really.
And I made this magnet a couple of years ago when I was trying to lose weight and I think its time to put it back on the fridge to help the cause. Because she's 52 and looks pretty damn fine. And firm. Thats my aim. To be fitter at 50 than ever before. So I have 5 years up my sleeve.
I have decided not to delve any further into the tinnitus situation for now. Even though it really can make some days bloody awful.
Main reason being that I'm fed up, and not in the mood, to get on that expensive, time wasting road of tests and specialists that seems to lead nowhere.
It all started a couple of years ago when I found a small lump in my breast one day. I went to the doctor, which lead to a mammogram, that lead to an ultrasound, that lead to them telling me it was just a cyst.
Then, my doctor decided that since I was over 40, I should have a full set of blood tests done. The one that they use to test for ovarian cancer came back at a high level. This led to a trip to the ultrasound place for an internal unltrasound, which is possible one of the most embarrassing yet humourous things I have ever had to go through. This led to a trip to the hospital for a laproscopy. This all led to nothing. Turns out there was no problem, some women just have elevated levels of whatever it is.
And then there was the Weird Undiagnosed Throat Thing. That remains undiagnosed. It started with a trip to the doctor, that led to an ultrasound, then on to the ENT guy who stuck a camera up my nose and down my throat, and finished with a barium swallow. All of this led to nowhere. Apparently I'm just making it up in my mind.
So. The tinnitus. I have been for a hearing test and I have some slight hearing loss so far. I was given a referral to another ENT doctor, but at the moment I just can't be bothered driving for an hour and a half, to sit in his waiting room for another hour and a half, then pay him a small fortune for him to tell me there's no cure anyway. I said to my doctor, well what will he tell me anyway that you haven't. And he said - he'll advise you.
Thats one problem with small town life. You have to drive to the big smoke to see any sort of specialist.
Maybe I'll look into it next year.
Do you have Sakatas where you live? If not, they're a small rice cracker that we eat a lot of here. You'll need to know that later.
Today I'm off to get my hearing tested.
Because I have tinnitus. You know, when you have a constant high pitched noise going on in your head, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for the rest of your life, and there's no cure. And the doctor wants to see if it is affecting my hearing yet.
Its definitely affecting my mental stability. I'm pretty sure if they did some research into people who commit suicide they'd find about 98% of them had tinnitus. And the thought of living with it FOREVER just about does my head in completely.
However I was doing a bit of research on how people cope with it. One lady who has it told me yesterday, that you have to put the noise at the back of your mind. Or it'll drive you mad. So that was reassuring. One guy said he just imagines his head is full of birds flying around singing. Now that is definitely not going to work for me. That would put me in the madhouse.
So I cope with it by imagining that the nosie just means my brain is working. Kind of like a fridge, how it just hums along in the background. And I can ignore it most of the time. As long as I have other noise going on. So night time is the worst because the house is quiet and I'm really aware of the ringing. Someone told me that'll settle down.
But its not really a ringing, or a screeching. Mine is like having a head full of cicadas singing. Thats what I imagine when I'm thinking about it. A sunny day with a head full of cicadas.
So.
The other day Lizzie came home from school and told me this story about a girl in her class who had written a poem and it was titled
The Screaming Cicadas
but she had spelt it
The Screaming Sakatas
Which was pretty hilarious. And now, whenever I think about my head noise, I imagine I have a head full of screaming Sakatas. Little rice crackers just going crazy.
Jesus, I just almost put an eye out.
Lizzie borrowed this pilates dvd from the store and told me I would be in BIG TROUBLE if I lost the stretchy resistance band that came with it.
She didn't mention anything about snapping it in half.
But I can tell you right now, there was no way that sucker was going to stretch right up above my head, full arm span. And all of a sudden - SNAP - in the side of the head.
So now I'm deciding if I'll tell her, or just fold up the longest piece and put it back in the box. Which would be pretty funny because the next person who borrows it will think they're really weak and unflexible.
Why does everyone wait until I'm on the treadmill before they decide they have to tell me something really important!
Is it too much to ask for 50 minutes (in a row) to myself. Obviously yes.
This has been going on for fifteen years.
When the kids were little they'd give me about ten minutes alone before they'd turn up in the garage wanting to tell me something, or have a fight about something, or had hurt themselves on something.
And now its Daz.
This morning he roamed back and forth in front of me a few times so I was sure to see him. He blew his nose, spoke to the dog, bashed things about in the kitchen until finally I got off and said to him -
WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT
Turns out he wanted a couple of invoices typed up. Now I'd just like to point out that we're talking 7.30am here. Thats the trouble with having a home office, people think you're on call 24/7.
I was really really cranky.
really cranky
Why do you love your body?
Sponsored by Body by Victoria®from Victoria's Secret.
Well, thats funny actually that you ask.
My body, Your body, The Body.
I don't know if its big news around the world, but here in Australia its pretty huge. Now if you don't know, there's really no easy way to break it to you. So brace yourself.
Elle McPherson has cellulite.
I know, its shocking isn't it. I've only just come to terms with it myself.
Can you imagine, a 45 year old woman with a bit of cellulite on her thighs. She should be shot really. Thats if she hasn't already done the job herself after seeing her lovely self plastered over a full page magazine spread, with people debating should she or shouldn't she wear a short skirt, is she or isn't she mutton dressed as lamb. I mean really, how long did we expect her to remain flawless. 50, 60, would we still be calling her The Body when she's 70. I mean she does have A Brain as well you know.
And do you know that in the same magazine (I was in the waiting room at the dentist), I discovered something else important.
Did you know that apparently in the eighties, Madonna had flabby arms. Those were the exact words. Flabby arms. Well, she fixed that problem didn't she. No flab there any more. But I'm glad we're still discussing it twenty years on.
And the thing is, I'm never sure if these revelations are supposed to make me feel better or worse about myself. I think they're supposed to make me feel better. I'm supposed to take some sort of pleasure in other peoples supposed flaws, ridicule them, and feel better about myself. And I say flaws, but believe me I do not see cellulite as a flaw, or a trouble zone. I hate those words - flaws, trouble zones, character lines.
So, what was the question again? Oh yes, why do you love your body. Well I don't really. But it does the job its meant to. It gets up early in the morning and it goes for a run. It spends the day carrying around my heart and my lungs and my brain and my soul. It is healthy and fit and strong. It has tattoos and pierced ears. It has cellulite and wrinkles and freckles. It has double jointed fingers and an extra ankle bone on each leg. It has given birth to three children and breastfed them. And its strong enough to haul my disabled fathers body around when he falls in the shower or can't get out of bed. And I'm pretty sure it's shrinking.
Anyway, who stands around saying they love their body???
And what the hell happened to Vox Hunt.
BRING BACK VOX HUNT instead of qotd.
I've had my share of varicose veins. And probably have plenty more to come. In fact I've had so many veins either ripped out of my leg, or injected and shut down, that its a wonder my leg is not just a withered husk of skin hanging from my hip.
Veins are like roads my doctor told me. The blood finds a way it likes to go and then just uses it all the time, and your vein gets bigger and more used up and then the valves won't close properly, and next thing you know, you have a varicose vein.
And your brain is kind of similar, but with thoughts. Circuit roads. The more you have certain thoughts, the easier it is for your brain to think that way. So you can retrain your brain to have more happy, positive, calm type thoughts. I was reading this in a book called Happy At Last, whcih was pretty interesting.
Foe example. Say you are stuck in a traffic jam and you start getting stressed. And you start swearing and slamming the horn and getting cranky, then you just started that little road in your brain, a little connection. And the next time you're stuck in traffic, your brain will go - ahhhh, I know what they want me to do, because they did it last time, so it's easier for you to be cranky and stressed again. But, if you're sitting in the traffic and you do a bit of deep breathing, listen to a bit of music, watch the birds fly by and stay calm, then that connection is made, and the next time you're in that situation again, thats what your brain will want to do.
It takes a while though. Like anything, you have to practice it for about three months before it becomes a habit. So you do it with any thoughts, even just smiling. And so even though your little smiley road circuit in your brain might start out like some dark little track that only a mountain goat can find his way through, if you just keep doing it, before you know it you'll have a huge smooth four lane highway with B double size happy thoughts rolling along it.
Now, back to the veins.
Do you know how they strip a varicose vein? I had to have a huge vein stripped, a main vein. One that runs from your ankle to your groin. And what they do is cut the vein at the ankle and cut it at the groin. Then they start at the ankle and feed a tube up the vein, all the way until it pops out at the top at the groin. And when it pops out these little hooks spring out and catch over the top. So then they grab the tube at the ankle, and rip it as hard as they can and pull the vein out. And yes, there will be bruising.
And I was looking at the doctor when he was telling me they would be doing this, and I said
won't I bleed to death? Aren't there other important things attached to that vein, that should stay that way?
But he said apparently not. He said if they went in and cut all the connected veins with a scalpel then I would have a major blood loss problem. But he said if you just rip them out, it's so traumatic that all the other veins just clamp shut. But what about the blood flowing around, where will it go now, how will it travel. And he said, it just finds a new way.
Amazing really, the old body, and how it just works (most of the time).
Imagine being the first person who ever had their veins stripped.
Okay - now we've never tried this before, but this is what we'd like to try.........
Ever since I did a month of painting, the arthritis pain in my fingers has been terrible. I've even had to start buying gadgets to help me open cans and stuff. I'll go back on the mobic for a week but I'm not supposed to take it for long periods because it raises your blood pressure. So I was doing a bit of research on other things like diet, supplements that might help. And I came across an article that suggested I should eat a lot of
shark fin soup
mussles
tripe
pigs trotters
hmmm, I have to say as a non meat eater, who is not a big fan of seafood, that sounds pretty awful
There seem to be a lot of different opinions out there regarding diet and if it helps or not. Some people say tomatoes should be avoided, some say white flour, others say avoid dairy others say have it.
Ah well, as Pat Rafter once said - Just because you have an opinion doesn't mean you know anything.
I was at the bakery yesterday and I was having trouble getting coins out of my purse because I'd just been in the freezer section at the supermarket so the fingers were pretty stiff. And the woman working there told me a story about how she used to work at a chemist, and this old man used to come in and his arthritis was so bad that his hand was totally curled into a claw. But he could do this trick where he could roll a twenty cent coin right across the back of his knuckles.
I just looked at her, not sure how I was supposed to respond to that. As if maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have claws, as long as you can do tricks with them.
I'll be the freaky old lady in town. All the kids will be saying
Man, have you seen that old witch with all the tattoos and the CLAW!! She can do some mean tricks.
Have I mentioned that I hate painting ceilings?
Patterned tin ceilings. That you have to dab dab dab the paint into. With undercoat, then two coats of colour.
Sigh.
I've done my room, Lizzies room and now I'm onto Lloyds room.
And while I've been painting I've been listening to the television. And I can not believe the shit that is on day time tv. And all those informercials. Does anyone even buy any of that stuff?
Today I was on the ladder painting and I started laughing so hard I had to get down.
It was an advert for a skin care range called meaningful beauty. (As opposed to the unmeaningful type I suppose). And there is a doctor, who is such an expert in the beauty industry that he is called the youth guru. And apparently he is so good that you can spend three hours sitting in his waiting room, waiting to see him. If you were so inclined. I guess he doesn't make appointments.
But I know his secret.
It's a melon.
A rare melon mind you. Grown in the south of France. With SUPER antioxiants. And they have taken these super melon antioxiants, and put them in a cream that you only have to pay a small fortune for, to put on your face.
And it's funny. Because last night I was watching Rick Steins French Oddyssey cooking show. And he was in France as well.
Eating melon.
Just standing in the melon field, with a knife, slicing the fresh melon and eating it.
And he took a melon back to the farmhouse and he made a salad. With melon, tomato, bocconcini cheese and fresh herbs, drizzled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.
And I reckon it was ten times, fifty times, better for your skin than any cream could be.
And even though I was laughing, I felt sorry for all those women who believe the hype.
