Grave

I was still fuming about my aunt stealing my dad's grave marker when I was on my way out of town, so I stopped at the cemetery.  My cousin has put all this detritus on Grandma and Grandpa's grave, and it looked like she had put a wreath or something on Dad's.  The wreath was godawful so I threw it away in the trash can they had sitting there and pulled out some stupid looking plastic flower stumps.  Then I took one of the plaques sitting on Grandma/Grandpa's headstone about tears and Heaven or some bullshit and put it firmly in the ground in front of Dad's grave.  If she fucks with it again, I'll bite the rest of her goddamn fingers off.

Crazy

I'm in Grinnell right now helping the high school kids not suck at painting their set for the spring musical.  I'm staying with Mom, and since we've both been sad lately we ended up talking for a long time about Dad.  Maybe it's because I was watching Ghost Adventures.  She told me my piece of trash of an aunt was high and left this message on her phone saying Mom and us girls were going to be damned to hell for not having a tombstone put on Dad's grave yet, and we were going to hell for putting "the family" through this.  We had other bills to pay before we thought about getting a tombstone, including insurance for the house that my aunt is living in illegally.  And we've already picked out a stone.  (As far as the house is concerned, there's this thing with the title 19 stuff she gets.  They paid to redo her house or something.  You're not allowed to have bills in your name at a second property and you have to live in the house.  Well, she's been living at my grandma's house for a few years now, and has someone paying her rent to stay in her house.  Not cool and very illegal.) 
Anyway, she went to the cemetery and pulled out Dad's grave marker so we wouldn't be able to find his grave.  RETARD, he's right next to Grandma and Grandpa, and we all already know where his ashes are buried.  Fucking moron.  Regardless of that though, I'm pissed.  First of all that's theft.  Secondly, he hated his fucking cunt of a sister.  She's fucking evil, and so is my cousin.  I hate them both so much, sometimes it consumes me.  At least I don't have to have anything to do with them anymore.  They deserve all the misery they live with now plus more.
After Mom relayed this story to me, she asked, "are you ready for another shock?"  Well duh, yes.  So Mom was having lunch or something with Dad's "girlfriend" Deb.  She's pretty nice and she loved my Dad.  Awhile ago my aunt lost part of her fingertip, and she had told all of us that Deb turned on the garbage disposal while she was digging something out and it chopped her finger.  Deb told Mom that's not what happened.  Dad and my aunt fought all the time, and one of the fights I know about he punched the shit out of her face.  Dad was worried for a long time that us girls hated him because of it and lied, saying she fell or something stupid like that.  I wasn't mad.  I didn't give a flying fuck.  If I had to live with her I would have broken her face too.  Well I guess they had been fighting again, and my aunt was doing this thing where she was jabbing her fingers into Dad's chest, over his heart.  Mom said she's seen her do it to John, my aunt's boyfriend, and it hurt him bad.  Well she did it to Dad and it pissed him off.  He grabbed her hand and fucking bit the tip of her finger off.  Deb said she saw it, and she saw him actually spit the tip of her finger out of his mouth.  Afterward he went to his room and locked himself in, and my aunt went to the garage and curled up in the fetal position and just mumbled to herself.  This doesn't make me mad either.  I wish he would have chopped her goddamn arm off, BUT, it's just so clear how far gone he was before he died.  Now that I'm studying the human body more in depth in school, his insanity and his cruelty make more sense.  Bipolar disorder, brain damage from a car accident, brain damage from years of ignoring his sleep apnea, brain damage from his pain medication abuse, brain damage from his heart attacks. 
Now that he's gone, I feel protective of him.  I've bad mouthed him more than anyone throughout my life, and I think I was justified, but my little sister said it best when she wrote, "he was a terrible person, be he loved his kids ferociously."
It's easier to see that now, so I feel like I have to defend the Dad I knew when I was little.  The Dad that knocked a goddamn bull off its feet when it pinned my older sister.  The Dad that held my little sister's head to keep it from moving when she fell off the hay elevator and cracked her skull.  The Dad whose lightning reflexes kept a tamping post from falling on my head when we were doing chores.  The Dad that gave us rides in the tractor bucket and gave us all the money in his wallet when we wanted to ride the heart flip and the sidewinder at the county fair.  The Dad that brought me back a hammock from Austria because he knew I wanted one so badly.  The Dad that taught me not to take shit from anyone.  The Dad that was so proud and bragged about his daughters to anyone who would listen throughout his whole life.
Dad's lawyer/our lawyer told us that Dad would come into the office sometimes, fighting mad and red in the face about one thing or another.  His will, Grandma's will, whatever.  The lawyer said he knew exactly how to calm him down.  He just had to ask about his daughters.  It was like a light switch would go off, and he'd calm down and start smiling while he talked about us.  I have to stop, I'm crying and can't see the computer screen.

Snap

I had to move my final bariatric checkup.  It was supposed to be on the 27th at 10 am, but I have a midterm at 9 am.  So... shit.  SHIT.  And of course my doctor is always fucking booked up, so I can't get in until March 8th.  I'm not happy.

Today I allowed myself cake.  I had cheesecake at lunch with Sara and a piece of chocolate cake tonight.  I haven't had junk in about a week, so it felt like a treat instead of guilt ridden poison.  Sometimes when I crave sugar, I eat it, but I don't even like it.  It gets rid of the craving but I don't feel satisfied.  This was different.  Still, I'm sure I've gained more weight.  I'm not getting on the scale to check until my appointment though.  I don't want to break it.

Where Is My Mind?

I wasn't going to blog about this, but I keep thinking about it.
During my marathon sleeping today, I had some bizarre dreams.  The first one I can remember was about me and Sara.  Instead of studying mortuary science, we were going to school to become jewelers at Cartier.  We were browsing one of the stores and there was this guy in our jeweler class that had landed an internship and there was a bitchy woman that had her own pool in the back of the store where she used babies to make pearls.  It was weird.  Sara and I shoplifted a $500 necklace because I liked how shiny it was.
Next I dreamed I had my gastric bypass, but I didn't have to schedule it and it only took an hour.  I was running around at the house I grew up in but had to keep stopping.  I'd hold my stomach and say, "take it easy, you just had stomach surgery."  Even though I kept holding my gut, I was still eating the same amount and the same kind of food.  I kept thinking to myself, "I thought I had to be on a liquid diet, why aren't solid foods bothering me?  Why didn't anyone tell me what I'm supposed to eat?"  That one got extremely weird toward the end with a big video game screen in the sky and me driving on ice trying to play cooperative mode with other people on the ice highway in a first person shooter game.
The one I keep thinking about had my dad in it.  It was the first time he's talked in one of my dreams.  My sisters and I, along with Mom and Dad were living in the woods.  Someone was writing a story about Dad's excellent survival skills and how he'd managed to keep us all alive in that environment.  Even though I was with Mom and my sisters, the writer started talking over my dream, like a narrator, at the same time he was writing the book.  He was talking about how a log sliding down a hill had killed my mom, and how a bear had killed my sisters, so Dad and I were moving into the city.  The dream then cut to me and Dad in a city, trying to expose a corrupt police department.  That bit didn't go too far before there were flashbacks of my sisters being killed by a bear.  Dad had put me in charge and gave me a rifle while he went to catch fish.  The bear came and I couldn't think of what to do and the rifle had disappeared, so I was throwing peanuts at it.  When that didn't help, I tried to put my hands in the bear's mouth to keep it from biting my sisters, but it was too late.  Dad heard me screaming and came running up to see what was wrong.  He saw the bear eating my siblings and me trying to cram my hands in its mouth and he grabbed it and tore it in half.
Things get fuzzy at that point, but the part about Dad killing the bear keeps replaying in my head.  At one point this morning I remember waking up thinking Dad was the only member of my family that was alive instead of the other way around.

*Shrug*

I'm sad.  And my sleep is all messed up.  I've been staying up until 9 am and waking up at 5 pm.  Last night I got to bed around 4 am and still slept until 5 pm.  Although, I did have a couple opportunities to get up earlier, I just didn't want to face the world.  I got up at 10 am and wandered around for a bit, loaded the dishwasher and such, then laid back down and woke up again at 1 pm.  I covered my head with the blanket and woke up again at 5.  Yuck.  I did manage to take a shower, but fat lot of good it did me.
I was going to make a protein shake and had the almond milk and powder in my shaker cup.  I set it down without screwing the lid on tight so I could feed the cats.  When I picked it back up I started to shake it, the lid flew off, and everything splashed in my face and all over me and the couch.  I need to re-wash my hair now.  I had to throw all the freshly washed clothes I was wearing back in the wash, along with a couch cushion cover.  At least Nathan was amused.  I was pretty hilarious, (not for me).

I'm not looking forward to embalming tomorrow.  My back has been killing me, and just standing at the grocery store made it lock up.  We'll see.  I'll take my weight in Aleve and muscle relaxers and hope that helps.  I'm just praying for no autopsy corpses.  When my back hurts, I keep all of my muscles tight to keep it from moving.  I wears me out fast and makes my hands shake a hundred times worse than they already do.

Damn You Netflix

So there was a new series recommended to me by Netflix for instant watch.  It's called Strange Sex.  I'm on the first episode and it's about cougars and cubs.  This woman is talking about how she was divorced and menopausal and decided she wanted to date younger men.  Now she's in her 70's and is still doing it and is, essentially, the real life Blanche Devereaux.
So, if I'm menopausal and dating a younger man, does that make me a cougar?

You Have the Power to End This

I just got out of the shower.  I lifted my bottom gut roll to apply my new tea tree oil mix and felt a sharp sting.  I lifted it up so I could see, and I'm gaining weight so fast, my skin is literally tearing at the stretch marks.  I can't really do anything other than keep it oiled up and disinfected with my castor oil/glycerine/tea tree oil mix.
I'm scared.  Terrified really.  I haven't binged or anything since my last doctor's appointment.  I just have protein every 3 hours and a skinny cow bar if I need chocolate.  Regardless, I'm sure I'll put on another 10 pounds before my appointment at the end of February.
Nathan was in the mood for sexy time earlier and I just said, "please don't come onto me."  I'm sure I hurt his feelings even though it doesn't have anything to do with him.

Insurance companies, if you're reading this, please....  PLEASE approve this surgery.  If you don't, you might as well put a bullet in my head.

Not In The Mood

I'm not in the mood to blog right now, but I haven't in awhile, so here's a quickie.

I have sore spots under my bottom gut roll and under my tits that I can't tell are just irritations from thin skin or something else.  I've made myself a mixture of tea tree oil, castor oil, and glycerine and I put it on everyday.  It's really helped the belly, but my tits are still kind of gross.  I've been using that treatment as a general everyday application to all of my sweaty spots and I have yet to get another yeast infection and my rancid, obese sweat smell is almost non existent.

My body hurts.  I only have embalming clinical once a week, but I feel like it totally wrecks me.  I've always had problems being on my feet for long periods of time, even when I was a normal weight.  My feet are shitty and my back is shitty.   When I was young I had horrible foot pain, and a specialist told me I had Sever's disease, which is inflammation of the growth plate in the heel or something.  It goes away when you're older, but I've had to have shots in my feet before as well for bursitis, and that was when I weighed 130.
 Now that I have my own gravitational pull, it's excruciating.  I LOVE embalming class, but I dread it at the same time because I know my body is going to hurt like a bitch.  Last week I wore these heavy duty arch supports I got from Birkenstocks.  They really hurt my feet after an hour or so and since then I haven't had any feeling in the bottom of my left foot.  It's not turning blue or anything, but I think I hurt a nerve or something.  I tried another pair of insoles from Pedag and they rubbed a huge line of blisters along the inside of my arch.  Now I've got just some good old Dr. Scholl's comfort gel.  My feet felt pretty good at the grocery store and running other errands, but when I'm standing for 3-6 hours, it won't matter.  I see my doctor for my last bariatric checkup before insurance send off at the end of February, but I don't think I can wait that long.  I may just call her and ask for a referral to a podiatrist.  I probably need some prescription fat shoes or something.
My back I'll just have to put up with.  It will get better when I lose weight, but it will always be shitty since my discs are degenerating from trauma, which, again, started before I was ultra fat.  

I don't think I'm going to get my surgery when I want it.  I was really pushing for spring break, which is also my b-day.  I'm afraid I may have to wait until summer.  I don't know.  At my January appointment I had gained another 10 pounds.  I told my doc I'm just always so hungry, and I try not to eat, but then I get ravenous.  She told me to have a protein shake or bar every 3 hours.  So I've been doing that and so far it's working okay.  It keeps me satisfied enough that I don't crave horrible food.  I've been having a small piece of meat with steamed broccoli and cottage cheese for supper.  Tonight it was fish with cottage cheese and green beans.  I keep Skinny Cow ice cream in the freezer for my junk food cravings.  I've been doing well with that and I can usually just have one and feel fine.  Of course I have to go for the protein if I don't feel satisfied.  I think when I finally get this surgery and start losing weight, my muscles are going to be bulging.  I'm pretty muscular anyway, but with all this protein and having to carry around so much weight and doing water aerobics, I may end up looking like the Hulk.  Whatever.  It's better than being a noodle armed wuss.  (I'm looking at you Sara).