One More Thing

Mom and I stopped at a restaurant after my dr. appointment.  We were sitting there finishing our drinks when I feel a hand on my shoulder.  I turn around, expecting to see someone I know, (which would have been weird since we were in Missouri), but there was a older woman I've never seen before.  She said, "I just had to come over here and tell you, you have the most beautiful skin."  At first I thought to myself, it's just a fatty glow, but I shut off my brain and said thank you.  When she was gone Mom and I were in agreement that she was going to say I had the most beautiful hair.  My hair did look pretty awesome today.  Then we decided people must just be more friendly in the south.  Unless you're brown.

After we were done eating, we went and visited my great uncle Jerry and aunt Betty.  I haven't seen them since.....  since I was like, 4 maybe?  Jerry is dying and is in a nursing home.  He was very close to my dad.  When Betty first looked at me she burst into tears and said, "my god!  You look just like your dad!"  Later I had to pass around my necklace so they could see Dad's fingerprint.  Jerry didn't really change expression while I was there except for when he saw the print.  He kind of smiled and then looked really sad.  Naturally Mom brought a few photo albums.  Betty was really enjoying them, and I think Jerry was too.  I just kept wondering what he was thinking.  I wonder if he was irritated at all of the chatter or if he was happy to have a distraction.  When I don't feel well I get spiteful.  It made me wish assisted suicide was legal, but that's a thorny issue.
Anywho, I'm going to print out some of Dad's photos for them, and I'm going to send them a print of my banjo drawing.

The top is a picture of Jerry, my grandma and Dad, and the bottom is my dad with Jerry's head kind of cut off.  They did a lot of hunting and fishing together.

I Should Be Doing Math....

But I don't want to right now.

I just got back from my appointment with my doc in Kansas City.  He took my blood and pee and x-rayed my knee.  Now I just have to wait for them to call me and tell me the results.  I swear to god he's my favorite doctor ever.  He asked how things were going and after expressing that I was too fat for the chairs in the waiting room, I told him I was bursting with self hatred.  He's seen me struggle with getting my weight down and is even keeping my thyroid levels slightly too high in an attempt to help me lose it.  Alas, it hasn't worked.  I asked him to write me a letter to give to the bariatric center so they could give it to my insurance company.  I also asked him to use the word 'plight' since it sounds cool.  So here's the letter:

Tiffini has been a patient of mine for close to 10 years and has struggled with thyroid problems, hormonal problems and weight problems.  she has tried every diet there is and still suffers from the plight of obesity.  She has combined weight loss programs, exercise programs and treatment with thyroid hormones and still doesn't lose weight.  She had a hysterectomy about a year ago and has gained 135 lbs since, despite diet changes, exercise and taking 5 grains of thyroid daily.  She has developed osteoarthritis in her right knee and ankle stemming from what would have been a minor injury had it not been aggravated by her weight.
As a rule of thumb, when approximating what a patient should weigh, I give everyone 100 lbs for 5 feet tall and then add 6 (small female), 8 (large female, medium male), or 10 (large frame male) pounds per inch.  At 5'6" that would make her ideal weight in the range of 136 to 148 lbs.  At 315 lbs, she is between 2 to 2 and a half times that figure.
She is looking forward to early adult onset diabetes, knee replacements, cardiovascular morbidity events and a whole lot of expensive medical procedures.
I think it would be in the best interest of this young lady to pursue bariatric surgery as she has tried everything I know available.

So now I need to get this letter to the insurance chick at the bariatric center.

Oh yeah, I also went to my first fat class last Wednesday.  Nathan hates me calling it fat class, but self deprecation suits me right now.
The nutritionist, who is just adorable, taught us about the deception of food names, like Wheat Thins and what not.  Using the words all natural, thin, organic, blah blah blah.  I already knew that.  She was like, "there are always fads.  That doesn't make them right.  First it was low fat, now it's low carb, which makes me laugh.  I'm predicting the next one will be low dairy.  We'll have to wait and see if I'm right."
She taught us the finger method.  Vitamins A and C, iron and calcium are required on all labels, even if it says "not a significant source of....."  If the daily value for each is at least 10%, you raise a finger.  Then you look at protein.  If it has at least 5 grams, you raise a finger.  Next is fiber, and if you have at least 10%, you raise a finger.  Next is sodium.  If it's under 300 g, you can keep a finger up, but you don't get to add one.  If it's over 300, you lose a finger.  The last one is a choice between fat and calories.  The nutritionist says she likes to go by fat most of the time.  If the total fat content is 10% or less, or it's under 200 calories, you keep a finger but can't add one.  If the fat is over 10% or over 200 calories, you lose a finger.
The idea behind this is, after surgery, the amount of food you can eat is severely limited, so there's no room for empty calories.  You have to eat things that are nutrient rich.  So, if you evaluate your label, and you have any less than 2 fingers remaining, your food is shit.  You HAVE to have AT LEAST two fingers.
She said everybody goes home and checks their cupboard after this lesson, and sure enough, Nathan and I started plowing through.  My Chewy granola bars get zero fingers.  Surprisingly, Nathan's pop tarts got two fingers.  (One of the slides she showed us was comparing Kellog's pop tarts and organic toaster pastries.  The organic had zero fingers, and the Kellog's had two, so beware of shit that is organic, it's not always best.)
We also found that my protein shakes get 2 fingers, but I can add a finger for the almond milk I put in them.  Nathan's goddamn Ovaltine gets 4 fingers, without the milk!  I was pissed.  Aside from unlabeled fruits and veggies and meats, the fucking Ovaltine was the most nutrient rich food in the cupboards.  Even the lentils only had 3 fingers.  Duh.  It kinda forces me to look at food differently.  I don't like snacking on carrots and fruit and whatnot because I never feel full, so I end up eating crap in addition to anything good.  After this surgery I'll actually feel full and satisfied by good stuff.
The class gave me a little bit of hope, but not enough to make me completely optimistic.  I have this fear that something is going to get in my way and I won't be able to have it done.

Even the Mona Lisa is Falling Apart....

I think I need one of those throat scope things done.  I gotten this pain off and on for at least a year now that feels like a piece of glass is stuck in my throat/chest.  I think it's usually worse when I swallow pills or eat something chocolaty, but I'm not sure.  Tonight it's been terrible.  It started around noon and hasn't let up.  I put up with it through water aerobics and now I'm just annoyed.  I'm making some ginger pu-erh to see if that helps.  Ginger is supposed to be good for your gut.  I've probably got a tear or ulcer or something from taking so many OTC pain pills.  I've been trying to avoid those recently and am sticking to the muscle relaxers the doctor gave me.
I also had this rumbling that started around the same time as the esophagus pain.  It got worse after water aerobics and I had to lie down.  Eventually I got diarrhea.  It started out mostly solid and has gradually lessened in frequency and is completely liquid now.  At least I feel a bit better now.
Oh, and my knee hurts.  When I walk it feels like it needs to pop.  I get that feeling in my hips sometimes, but they usually pop immediately.  It hurts like hell for a second and then feels better.  My knee isn't doing that though.  It's the stupid knee I hurt in middle school playing softball.  The doctor then said there was fluid on it that couldn't be drained and it would give me fits when I was older.  I'm sure he didn't mean at the age of 29, but he probably wasn't assuming I'd be a gelatinous blob.
How is it I don't have cankles yet?

Fuck the Holidays

The only reason to look forward to the holidays is a day off of work.  Since I don't have a job, I don't care. The other reason is to see family you don't often get to see, but I'm near my mom and my sisters visit a lot.
I got to Grinnell on Wednesday night and hung out with Squirt and Tron.  We watched Louis C.K, which always cheers me up.
Thursday though, sheesh.  I got to sleep around 2 am, and felt like I slept well.  Mom and Squirt were bugging me to go to bed at 11, and for some reason that made me mad.  I put the quote up on facebook, so you've all probably seen it.  Mom was just calmly telling me to try and sleep, and I was freaking out and accused her of yelling, because in my head it felt like I was getting chewed out.
I heard Mom and Squirt being busy in the kitchen the next morning, so I actually woke up around 8 am.  Mom came in and got me at 11:30 and I didn't put up a fight.  However, the mattress she has hurts my back something fierce, so upon waking me she inadvertently woke a raging bitch.  I was having a dream that I was trying out for some super girl band, and there was a series of tests I had to go through, but I couldn't pass them because someone kept putting an ice pick in my spine.  I was roused several times only to realize the pain from the dream was fucking real.  At one point I yelled out from the pain, but I don't think anyone heard me.
When I was officially awake, I hobbled around some and was annoyed by my mom and sister's perky disposition.  I had 3 things on my mind: my back, my weight, and my dad.  Sometimes seeing his stuff at Mom's place gets to me, and automatically puts me in a foul mood.  My psychiatrist said not to worry, that my irritation is completely normal and will get better with time.
My back, duh, hurt, so I didn't want to go anywhere.  Then when I got out of the shower I was greeted by Mom's large mirrors.  I don't dry off in front of a mirror at home, and can't really see past my torso in that thing anyway, but Mom's are a lot bigger and were right in my face.  I was lifting my belly rolls to dry off and I totally broke down and bawled.  I made sure the fan in the bathroom was on and the door was shut because I didn't want anyone to hear me.  So I sobbed in my towel for awhile.  Mom tried to come in once and I told her to get out, and Squirt came in once and I told her to leave me alone.  I can't stand the idea of my family seeing how gross I am.  And I certainly didn't want to go to Thanksgiving at my cousin's, but I went anyway.  Thank god they have dogs.  When we pulled in the driveway I remembered there were puppies waiting for me, so while everyone else went inside, I played with the dogs for a bit.  One of them is a golden lab type named Rusty, and the other is a Husky or Malamute or mix named Bella.
You can't stay grumpy in the May house for very long.  Kathy May, my cousin, is just goddamn hilarious.  She's the best story teller and you never get that awkward, "there's nothing to say" vibe when you're around her.  Her daughter Shannon is getting married in 10 months or so, and told Kathy she needs to work on her inside voice, or, her "wedding voice" since she's pretty loud.  So all afternoon she'd stop talking and go, "oh excuse me, I forgot my wedding voice."  Maybe you had to be there, but it was so funny.  She just said it with so much sarcasm.  At one point we were all sitting around doing a puzzle and she corrected her voice volume again, and I said, "you know, when you're using your wedding volume, your voice takes on a sort of 900 number tone, so I think you're pretty much screwed since being loud and being sultry are inappropriate."  She was like, "TIFFINI, your truth is not welcome here!"  We had a good laugh.  We were talking about Facebook some and I said I don't keep many friends on it because I don't want people to know what a bad person I am.  Kathy looks at me and goes, "don't you think that's pretty much not a secret anymore?"  Hilarious.
We Skyped with Shannon for a little bit since she was at her fiance's house.
There are 3 kids, Shannon, Patrick, and Alex.  Shannon is the oldest and loves travel.  She's fluent in Spanish and does some translation work, I believe.  She's spent a lot of time in Spain, which is where Alex, the youngest, is right now.  Kathy was telling us the family he's staying with has this little 4 year old girl that is just totally enamored with him.  Kathy was like, "she hangs all over him, and he is getting just what he deserves because he's always been a trouble maker."  Again, you probably had to be there.  Kathy was expressing some irritation that he's not more fluent in Spanish.  The middle kid, Patrick, is kind of quiet and is happy working in Maquoketa as a truck dispatcher.  He likes being near home.  Maybe it's a middle child thing.  I've never felt the need to go off on my own far away, and I don't crave job success and recognition, (don't get me wrong, I'll travel if the opportunity presents itself, but I don't have this need for wild, global exploits).  I'm just happy when I'm able to pay my bills and sleep in a bed that doesn't hurt my back.  Patrick is fluent in Japanese, but he's so quiet, you'd never guess it.

Anyway, we left the May's around 5 and then went to see the crazies and bring them food.  I was completely uninterested in talking to any of them and I wasn't hungry, so I just sat on the couch and talked to Bryan.  He was sensing my irritation so he joined me on the couch and we laughed at various internet memes.
My cousin is getting a little bit of a baby bump, and she's just as goddamn fake as ever.  I seriously hope that baby dies.  I don't care how.  Miscarriage, suffocated by one of Tawny's 8 cats, SIDS, whatever.  She will be the worst mother ever.  Trust me when I say the baby is better off dead.
My aunt started off in dramatic fashion, but then drifted off to another room and was mostly quiet.  When we came in she started hugging me and goes, "I've just been crying all day, I miss your dad so much."  I wanted to punch her.  Mostly because she never sounds sincere when she says it.  She says it in a way that will garner attention.  The whole "oh poor me" routine.  I swore to myself that if I heard her say anything like, "it's so important for family to stick together," or something like that, that I would slay her immediately.  Luckily for us both, she never uttered those words.
Oh yeah, go figure, the animals at that place are stupid, and I hate them.  There's a snotty cockatiel that will try to bite you.  I fucking hate birds.  There's a cat that always runs from me because she only likes men, and there's a shitty little spaniel my aunt inherited from her recently deceased friend that bit my hand the last time I was there, so I hate it.  Fucking bitey little goddamn dog.  I'm sure my aunt is damaging it the way she damages all of her animals, like the dog she used to have that she masturbated.  Yeah.  The "red rocket" game from Southpark?  That's her.

We didn't stay very long, and now I'm in Davenport with Tyne and B-Rye until Saturday.  Bryan said we may go to the shooting range tomorrow, which would be awesome since I've only ever fired a BB gun.  I'm sure I'll suck because of the palsy, but whatever.  I'd like to know how to handle a gun when the zombie apocalypse comes.
Saturday we go to my good aunt's house on my mom's side of the famliy.  I have the same dread that I had for today, but at least one of my aunts that will be there had gastric bypass a long time ago, so they all understand weight bullshit, and they won't be fake or delusional or crazy.

300

I was wondering when I'd see that 3 in front of the other two numbers in my weight.  I went to the doctor today.  She's going to back date all of my gastric bypass forms for insurance.  She said, "you've been at this for quite awhile, there's no reason to start from scratch and make you more miserable."  She asked about my back and I told her it's always been shitty.  Then I started bawling.  Just from a culmination of horse shit.  She's got me on 2 muscle relaxers now.  One has a pain killer in it.  If that doesn't work I'm supposed to call in.  She had me stand and try flexing my back in different positions.  Then she had me lay down and tried lifting my legs.  She could barely move my left leg because my hamstrings are so tight, so I'm supposed to really try and stretch those.
I still feel like shit, and the cats have done nothing but piss me off today, so I'm playing Left 4 Dead with Nathan in an attempt to cheer up.

An Idea

I'm trying to draw more.  It helps my mood, I'm relatively good at it, and I can possibly sell it.  I'm having a problem that I've always had when it comes to drawing.  I can never decide on a subject matter, so I'm all over the map.  My professor in college scolded me for not developing a signature style.  Well I've got kind of an impressionist style down, but I still want for ideas.
A co-worker from Iowa Telecom, Shari Workman, is a fantastic photographer and has given me permission to use her photographs to draw from.  Right now I'm so reluctant to put stuff up on Etsy because of copyright stuff.  I've always just grabbed photos off the internet to draw from.

So....  I had a new idea.  I've always loved human anatomy and that was the main thing I drew in college.  Since I'm in this sort of limbo full of turmoil regarding my body, I feel like I should draw myself.  I don't want to sit in front of a mirror because I just can't hold still for very long.
I just need a lamp for more extreme light and dark and a sheet to put behind me or on the ground.  I'm not sure who I'd ask to take my picture.  I'm leaning toward Squirt or Dee right now.  I think this could be therapeutic, like Mary Lundberg's cancer art.

Fuck

My self esteem has really hit the skids.  I can't stand the look of my body.  I can't stand the look of my face.  I don't want Nathan to touch me.  I don't want to go out, and I don't want people to see me.  I feel like the fattest thing on the planet.  I feel like a slug.  I feel guilty about everything I eat, even if it's a carrot, and I feel guilty every time I feel hungry.  I think, "you shouldn't be hungry, fatty.  You should never eat again."  My hot flashes have been terrible and every time I wake up, whether it be in the morning or afternoon, I'm soaked in sweat.
Skinner is supposed to come over sometime this weekend to look at one of Dad's violins he was interested in buying.  I don't want him to come over because I'm a blob.  I didn't even want my mom to see me tonight because of the way I look.  The person on this planet that couldn't possibly love me anymore, and I don't want her to look at me.
I have a doctors appointment on Tuesday.  I'll be taking the sheets they gave me at the fat clinic for her to fill out.  Maybe she'll hear my plea and back date some of them so I don't have to keep waiting and waiting for insurance approval.  After the 6 months of doctor supervised diet, the only thing I have left to do is the 4 fat classes.  The session for this month started last Wednesday.  I thought all day about going, but couldn't bring myself to go because I didn't want to go out in public, even if it's to benefit my weight loss!  How stupid can I get??  I'd be surrounded by people like me!  It's completely unreasonable, but I can barely describe the depth of self loathing I feel.  I wonder how much I'll weight when I go to the doctor.  Last time I was 290.  I'm probably up to 500 or something.  I hate myself.