Kristann Monaghan's Blog, page 2

Stop the Ride. I Want to Get Off

It is a normal day.  Nothing exciting.  I can feel my heart starting to race.  My breath quickens.  The feeling of dread comes over me.  My chest feels tight.  I start to bounce my leg to alleviate that feeling of wanting to flee.  This is all too familiar and comes on without warning.  I know exactly what is happening and I cannot stop it.  It will control me even if I don’t want it to.  Hello anxiety my old friend.  Thank you for showing up unannounced and bringing your friend panic attack with it.  Anxiety and panic attacks are no stranger to me, unfortunately, but what happened this time around was different.  This time around, I suffered from severe vertigo.  Someone stop the ride.  I want to get off.

I have suffered from anxiety and panic attacks since I was a teenager so when I feel that anxiety starting, I just try to use my breathing techniques or a quick walk outside to calm myself down.  But the vertigo?  Where did that come from?  The first time I got it, it was sudden and violent.  I stood up from bed and my whole world spun so quickly that I had to grab the wall to not fall down.  It was terrifying and I was immediately sure I was either having a stroke or I had a tumor.  There could be no other answers.  Also, would the paramedics come in and find me naked on my floor?  All I could think was please let this stop so I could at least not be naked. The vertigo left as soon as it came and I was dumbfounded.  When it happened again the next day at work, I thought maybe it was an inner ear thing.  But when it kept happening? For almost 2 weeks?  That is when I went to the doctor.  Only to be told to go to the ear doctor because of course, there was nothing wrong that my primary doctor could find.  That must mean a tumor.  I was partially convinced I was going to be told I had months to live when I went to the ear doctor.  After a round of some testing, I was told the one thing I was not expecting.  The vertigo was stress and anxiety related. Excuse me?  Wait.  That could not be it.  I left thinking the doctor was full of it.  It had to be a tumor.  There is no way this is stress or anxiety induced.  I was frustrated.  The vertigo disappeared and I was left wondering if it was all in my head.

Then this past weekend, I was sitting at home minding my own business when I started getting texts about work.  The room started spinning.  What the heck?  I was totally fine all day till I started feeling anxious.  I sat there and realized I did not have a tumor.  I had anxiety induced vertigo.  Ugh.  So that is a fun new level to my anxiety.  I thought about what the ear doctor said about lowering my stress and I want to laugh.  Not possible right now but thanks.  So now to monitor these symptoms and see how to handle them. Anxiety and I are old friends and it can show itself in weird ways.  I know I am not alone.

I write about stress and anxiety and panic today because I want you to know if you suffer, you are not alone.  Most of us do not talk about it and we should.  We should tell people how we feel.  We should reach out when we are not ok and get the help we need.  It is ok to tell someone you are sad, depressed, stressed or anxious.  I went through a period in my life that the anxiety was so bad, it cause me to not want to leave the house and going to any social situation was so painful I just could not.  I would throw up before going to work because I had to leave my house. But I would plaster on a smile and nobody knew I was suffering with such debilitating anxiety.  I should have said something.  I should have reached out.  But along with the anxiety came some crippling depression and I felt like I shouldn’t tell anyone.  I want all of you out there to understand something.  IT IS OK TO FEEL LIKE THIS.  This was a hard blog to write, but I am always honest with you and if this can help someone else realize it is ok, then that is the purpose.  YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I almost had to be found naked by paramedics and thought I was having a stroke or a tumor but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl with anxiety induced vertigo Running and I am not alone.  The experiment continues…

I’m Late! I’m Late! For a Very Important Date!

Ever have an event and you were late? Or almost late? All because you woke up late? For whatever reason, whatever your excuse, it makes you feel so flustered. We all have been there. We hit snooze one too many times. We don’t hear the alarm. We just cannot plain wake up. How about waking up late for a HUGE event? Yeah…that might have happened to me. In Denver. At Book Bonanza. The biggest signing event of my career, and I set the alarm wrong. No really. I felt like The White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. This really did happen though and was not a dream. How did this happen? Let me try and explain.

Book Bonanza was a 2 day event with panels and signings over two days. I was lucky enough to be invited to participate as an author and I was super excited to be there. BFF and I drove out (12 hours y’all) which you know meant a continuous concert provided by us to us in the car. I mean how can you go on a 12 hour road trip and not have an amazing playlist? You really cannot. So you know I went and made an epic one. There might have been car dancing. Who am I kidding. You know there was.

The first day of the signing was packed full and more about that later. We were up late hanging out with BFFE and before we fell asleep, BFF and I discussed what time we needed to get up to be ready for the 8 am signing. We decided we needed to be down there around 715 am to make sure we were all all ready and to help #soulmate set up if we needed. I set my alarm and we went to bed. The next morning I felt like I fell down the White Rabbit Hole as it started with this conversation:

BFF: “Hey what time did you set the alarm for?”

Me (still half asleep): “Why? What time is it?”

BFF (panic has now set in): “Holy shit! It is 715! What happened?”

Me (jumping out of bed and checking my phone): “Oh crap! I set the alarm for 715! I was so tired I got mixed up!” Frantic panic has now set in as we both rush around and I text #soulmate to let her know.

BFF (who somehow has magically got dressed already): “I thought I heard a lot of people lining up and wondered why! We got this! We can do it!”

Me (half in my spanx and half trying to brush my hair at the same time): “I am so sorry! Biggest signing of my life and I might be late. I am a hot mess.”

BFF (looks at me half dressed, struggling to even put on Spanx and a brush stuck in my hair. She laughs.): “Oh my God. You are such a hot mess. Stop trying to do two things at once. Would you at least put on your Spanx? You cannot go down there in your bra and half your unders on.”

Me (realizing she looks completely put together. I have now attempted to put deodorant on my legs as lotion and my brush is still stuck in my hair): “How the hell do you look so good right now?” I am also wondering if I put on deodorant at this point.

BFF (gives me a look as she removes the brush from my hair): “Because I am obviously not a hot mess. Duh. I am the BFF and I am amazing.” That she is. Maybe she is a magical creature from Wonderland. Hmmmm.

With that and in 20 minutes, we are out the door and down to the signing. Needless to say in that time, BFF also managed to make me a stiff Arnold Palmer for the signing. Because sometimes a little whiskey helps calm the nerves. I don’t know when she found the time nor do I know how we got ready so fast. We normally are both primpers and take about an hour to get ready. This was a miracle. A Wonderland miracle I tell you.

Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I was almost late to the biggest signing of my life and realized BFF is some sort of magical creature but I didn’t die. I am Fat Girl who wondered if I even put on deodorant that day Running. The experiment continues…

Just One Step. Just One Breath.

Let me tell you a story. Bear with me here. This is not one of my funnier ones, but I always promise to be honest and share all parts of my life with you. So keep reading. It is worth it. I promise. Take a breath. Just one breath.

The last year has been one of the worst periods in my life. No really. It has. I dealt with losing two members of our family, my Mommy being in the ICU twice and the closong of InknBeans Press. To top it off, I was miserable at work. Miserable. I don’t even know if that word accurately describes how I felt about my job. No, I don’t think it really does. I sank into a deep depression and had a hard time seeing the good in anything. I decided to take one step. Just one.

That one step? I decided to change my job. The push to do so was knowing that where I was at was seriously making me cry every night. I sat one night on the couch and decided to get off of it and apply for different jobs. Living in a small town means there is not a lot for nurses to choose from and it also means a pay cut. To say I was scared was an understatement. I was terrified. Who is going to want me? How can I afford it? Can I even start over after 20 years at the same facility? All these doubts races through my head and honestly made me want to crawl right back in hed and never get out. But, I did it. I put in applications and decided whatever happened was meant to be. I never expected how it would happen.

I was sleeping for a night shift and got a phone call from a care facility for an interview. Yes! An interview. Ok that I can do. Well at least I can try and not sound like a complete moron who maybe knows how to speak English during an interview. I could only hope that my personality would shine theough and I would not have to complete the interview by interpretive dance. How embarrassing would that be? I laid there contemplating what I would say in an interview that would not make me seem like a complete moron when my phone went off again. I got a message from the place that was making me miserable and I knew. I knew I needed another job. Right then and there, fifteen minutes after agreeing to an interview, my whole world had gone upside down and I needed to make a change fast.

I crawled back into bed, stressed and tired. Defeated and exhausted. I needed to figure out what I was going to do. The world felt like one crazy merry-go-round and I really wanted off the ride. But you know what I did? I laid there and took one breath. Just one. That one breath allowed me to stop and listen to my soul. That one breath allowed me to take control of my life once more and see above the water of life I felt like I was drowning in.

I realized my self worth was not wrapped up in a dollar amount. I realized through that one breath that I could take that one step. I finally was able to see myself as capable. I slowly treaded the water of life. I pulled myself up out of that drowning depression and took a step. I went to the interview two days later. I took the job they offered me a week later. Six months later, in a company that appreciates me for who I am, I am taking a promotion. Change sucks but change can also be good and make you better. As long as you don’t change into the Stay Puff Marshmellow Man like in Ghostbusters. That is still terrifying to me.

So take that step towards happiness. Take that breath. You will be glad you did. Just one step. Just one breath.

Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I did step back and make my life better and i didn’t die. I am The Fat Girl who can take just one breath and does not turn into a giant marshmellow figure Running. The experiment continues…

The Fat Girl Running Version 2.0

I started a new chapter in my life this month.  It was hard and exciting but I did it.  I joined the world of self publishing and the result of all my tears, hours on the computer and a million questions to #soulmate comes out on July 12.  We all know I have been missing from the publishing world for about 6 months and I actually have not been blogging as much (which is going to change as well).  It was hard to figure out what to do after my publisher died and they closed the doors abruptly, leaving all of us authors with no way to continue.  But, I did it.  I self published a better version of Book 1.  I feel a little like the way a book must feel if you crack its spine (you monsters who do that).  A little broken and a little relieved.  I never knew as a writer/blogger that it could be so painful at times, but it really is.  And this whole self publishing thing?  Kind of scary and I feel like half the time I have no idea what in the heck I am doing to be honest. But what came out of this process is a new and improved version of me.  The Fat Girl Running version 2.0 I guess you could say. Let’s talk about how I came to be this new version.

You see, after my publisher Boss Bean died, I was stuck.  Stuck without a way to get books, my files or even the rights to my cover art.  So I was at the beginning.  I actually had to cancel book signings because I was unable to get any copies of my books and I was so very frustrated.  I was determined to not pull out of Book Bonanza though.  For those of you unaware, Book Bonanza is one of the BIGGEST signings around and I was actually invited to be an attending author.  Me.  Little old me.  Six months of no contact from the publishing company and I decided enough was enough and looked for my files myself.  I am glad I was able to find all my files for books 1-4 on my computer.  There was a pint where I couldn’t find Book 1 and I was entertaining the thought of retyping out the entre thing from a hard copy I managed to have.  That made me cry for sure.  No really.  Ask #soulmate.  I cried.  Then I found the file and I cried with relief.  Files being found, I could proceed.

First of all, I needed an editor.  All of this stuff my publisher did for me before so I had no idea what it all entailed.  Luckily, I had an editor recommended to me that was willing to take me on.  That was the hard part.  You see, most of my author friends are romance authors and we all know I am far from that.  Before I could send the books off to an editor, I needed to go through them all and revise things, self edit, take out chapters and add new content.  That alone made me want to pull my hair out.  You see, part of me cringed over some of my older writing.  It just sounded like a four-year old came in and wrote down some gibberish.  I mean, how did you all actually stand to read it?  Wait.  Are you all just real life stalkers?  Because that would be cool.  Unless you are SOTL Man.  Then that would not be cool.  It would be slightly terrifying.  But I digress.

Once I got the books sent to an editor, I needed to also line up a formatter and a cover designer.  Seriously, I cannot thank my author friends enough for all their help in this direction either.  Oh yeah.  I also had to figure out what to do for my cover.  I wanted to cry and be angry at the same time.  Have we ever talked about what an indecisive person I really am? I finally decided to do something completely out of my comfort zone and put myself on the cover.  It made me want to throw up in my mouth a little, but I called a local photographer and decided to do a photo shoot.

Can we discuss how awkward that was?  I mean I am as awkward as it comes and then put me in front of a camera?  Oh my heck.  I cannot even imagine some of the photos she must have gotten.  There were definitely some gems for sure.  There had to be knowing me.  My photographer was a genius.  She made me do things I thought was stupid.  In fact, the one pose I thought was going to look so dumb is actually the cover.  Huh. Guess she knew what she was doing. We both were laughing a lot during the shoot and I think that helped me relax and be myself a little more than I would have otherwise.  The pictures were all so cute that it was hard for my cover designer to actually pick just one.  But we managed and all of a sudden, I was excited.  Excited to try this whole self publishing thing because my new covers are the cutest.  And a little sassy.

[image error]The new cover?  It is everything you guys. 

Book edited?  Check.  Cover concept?  Check.  Cover designed?  Check.  Formatted?  Check.  Next step?  Actually get it set up to publish both in paperback form and e-book in time for Book Bonanza on July 19. Ack. Biggest signing of my life and I didn’t have books for it. But with the help of #soulmate, I got it all set up and approved by the all mighty Amazon.  Paperbacks of Book 1 AND 2 are actually sitting in my kitchen in boxes right now.  Because the lucky people who come see me at Book Bonanza get a sneak peek of Book 2 and a chance to get it early (that one comes out in August).  Now for those of you familiar with my books, these are revamped editions of the old ones with new content, formatting, editing and the like.  I mean I would get them just for the covers alone.  So, if you want, the pre-order is already live and the book goes live on July 12.  In case you need it, here is the link:  Climbing Off the Couch

I still might cry on Thursday because this is the first time I am doing this all on my own and boy do I miss Boss Bean.  But I know she would approve and love the direction I am going this time.  And once again, my books will be available for you guys.  In fact, they are better versions of the old ones.  It really was a little bit what I can only imagine giving birth is like, except without the gross bodily fluids.  Because let’s be honest.  People coming out of other people is gross.  Lots of sweat, tears and love went into this new version of my books and I really hope that maybe a few of you pick them up and stalk me.  Let’s just hope SOTL Man doesn’t blow up my cover into a poster to hang in his house.  Creeper.

Oh yeah. I didn’t die today.  I did, however, venture into self publishing and have a book releasing this week, but I didn’t die.  I am the Fat Girl Running version 2.0 and I hope you love it as much as I do.  The experiment continues…

Expelling a Demon Can Be Painful

This week I expelled a demon.  No really.  I mean I am pretty sure that is what happened.  It for sure felt that way and might not have been a real demon.  But you don’t know.  Don’t judge me for thinking that I had a demon living inside me after what happened.  It really could have been.  I have watched enough Supernatural to know that expelling a demon can be quite a messy business. But, what I didn’t know was how painful it can be.

It started out with me waking up and feeling rotten.  I mean super rotten.  My stomach hurt and I was trying to sleep for work, but the pain would not stop.  I laid in bed, wondering what the heck was wrong.  I do have some trouble with my gut in general, but this felt out of the norm, even for me.  Then the abdominal cramps and nausea hit me.  Ugh.  The worst.  Let me clue you in on something.  There are two things I hate the most.  Sore throats and nausea.  Sore throats…what the heck are those and why.  Why does your throat have to sometimes feel like you ae swallowing razor blades every time you swallow?  Never mind trying to drink or eat, or even sometimes talk.  There is no need for that.  It’s not like you can sit there and not swallow your own saliva at all.  I mean, I guess you could and wear a bib and just let it all drool out onto yourself, but that might be frowned upon in public.  Or you could pretend you are a loose mental patient and just wander around drooling and making noises since you can’t talk due to the razor blades that are in your throat.  Totally doable.  As you can tell, I really do not have a very good tolerance to a sore throat and even less for nausea.  I can deal with abdominal cramping because I would much rather poop up a storm than vomit.  Vomiting is the worst.  So there I was, trying to figure out what the heck I ate and then realizing I hadn’t eaten anything since like 4pm the day before.  That was 16 hours prior to all of this starting.  There is no way this is food poisoning.  Food poisoning, for those who do not know, has about a three-hour window where you get sick.  I was trying to figure out if this was an ulcer attack when I had to jump up and run for the restroom.  Luckily, it didn’t start out as vomiting, if you catch my drift.  I thought to myself  “while this is not pleasant and feels like fire water coming out of my butthole, I can handle this.  This is ok. I can pee fire water out of my butt.”  I seriously would so much rather have fiery water coming out of me with cramping, then hugging the toilet bowl and vomit.  I could take something to stop it and still work.  All right I got this.

I got back in bed and took something to help with the cramping and such and fell back asleep for about an hour.  Then, the obvious creature dwelling inside me decided to stir.  Holy crap.  It was that moment when you can’t decide what is going to be worse, waiting for the nausea to pass or just vomit.  I decided to try to wait it out and took another form of medication called Zofran to help.  20 minutes later, everything took a horrible awful turn.  I ended up running for the toilet, grabbing a hair clip to pull back my hair and just in time getting my necklace off.  If you have long hair, you get it.  Nothing worse than your hair ending up in the toilet bowl while you are dying.  As I knelt there on my bathroom floor emptying my stomach contents in a violent fashion, the wort decision of my life happened.  Can I stop vomiting long enough to get my butt on the toilet? Nope.  Totally did not happen.  It was like that scene in the movie Bridesmaids where the bride with uncontrollable diarrhea says “It’s happening.  I am shitting in the street.”  So that happened.  Worst thing ever to have absolutely no control over what is coming out of either end of your body at the same time.  Humiliating.  This went on for hours. I didn’t even fell like I could leave the bathroom. Work was out of the question.  In fact, I decided to lay on my bathroom floor, sans chonies, because why bother at that point if it was going to come out both ends at the same time. I pulled a towel down to lay on and wondered what the heck I did to deserve this.  Then it hit me.  This is a demon.  I am expelling a demon.  Has to be it.  There is no other explanation.  Totally what it is. Has to be.  A demon.  Yup.

Now, you have to realize, at this point I am delirious with pain, dehydration and have taken even more anti nausea medication to try to stop all of this without any success.  It really does have to be a demon.  I looked around trying to see if maybe my Bubby or BFF had snuck into my bathroom or bedroom and drawn a Devil’s trap there to help me out.  Because maybe I didn’t realize I was possessed by a demon and they did.  Maybe the Winchester brothers were going to come any moment now and there I am, laying on my bathroom floor with no panties on, covered in a sheen of sweat, smelling like death I am sure.  Oh that would be so unfortunate.  No one needs to see that, least of all Dean Winchester **swoon**.  That would be so my luck.  Fat Girl humiliation at it’s finest.  I wondered if I even had enough energy to go grab some salt to swallow to try to expel the demon even faster, but opted to just go to bed instead.

12 hours later.  No.  Really.  12 hours this lasted, the expelling of the demon that was in me.  Finally, it left.  Exiting me, leaving my soul intact (or at least I hope so), but without the big plume of black smoke they always show on Supernatural, to find another body to invade.  I woke the next morning and went to get out of bed and realized there was a lasting effect to throwing yourself on the floor and hugging the toilet bowel for so long when you are older.  My back was out.  Are you freaking kidding me?  This had never happened before.  The fiery pain of the diarrhea had now been replaced by shooting pains into my ass in the form of sciatica flare up.  I hated this demon.  My ass was on fire in such a worst way and I could barely stand without pain.  Awesome.  So glad this was now my life.  Stupid demon.  Stupid getting old.  Is this now what is going to happen to me every time I have to vomit violently for hours?  My back is going to go out?  What did I do to deserve this?  Great. So now, after expelling the demon that was living inside me, I ahve back pain.  Thank goodness for pain medication, a tens unit, lidocaine patches and a visit with my massage therapist in a few days.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  Oh my goodness, I felt like I was going to die for 12 hours but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl who actually threw my back out violently expelling a demon and wondering if the Winchester brothers were going to witness my humiliation Running.  The experiment continues…

Hello? Are you still there?

Hello! *waves sheepishly* Do you remember me? It is just I….The Fat Girl Running and I know you haven’t heard from me in quite awhile. My life kind of got turned upside down and it has taken me a bit to find my bearings. I hope you are still here, eagerly anticipating a new post from me. When I logged on, I half expected a layer of dust needing to be cleaned off in here. I even brought one of those duster thingies. Oh who am I kidding. I don’t clean. I am literally the world’s worst housekeeper. So I wouldn’t have even known where one of those duster things live in my house. No seriously. I wouldn’t. So let me explain something about my absence because you are about to see some changes around this joint (starting with firing the current housekeeper in here. I am pretty sure a dust bunny as big as my car just rolled by). Yup. Change is coming. But just in case you forgot who I was…here is my face.

[image error]

December brought with it a very sad event and the one for the catalyst of change. Our beloved Boss Bean decided to leave is and go have coffee and chat books with The Big Guy upstairs. Cancer is a bitch my friends. A big, mean spirited bitch and she came around and took our sweet Boss Bean from us way too soon. I lost not only my publisher, but a fantastic friend and mentor in this book world. I will be forever changed by Boss Bean and her believing in me. She is sorely missed. This leads me to what is happening. Book 5 was due to come out in February but obviously that got put on hold when I got the news about Boss and the subsequent news that Inknbeans is to close it’s doors permanently. A slight hiccup to say the least. Hmmmm. So now what you ask? Never fear! The Fat Girl Running and her books will still be around but I will be rebranding them all and republishing them myself soon. This means that the originals will soon be disappearing off Amazon and you will soon hold in your hands unicorn covers! I wish I could say they came with glitter and a fancy horn, but that would make them cost more. I wish I could rig them to explode with a glitter bomb when you opened the covers. Wouldn’t that be awesome? As long as I don’t have to clean it up. Because obviously I would just leave it to make the world a more sparkly place. So look for new covers and hopefully Book 5 and beware of glitter bombs.

A couple of other bumps in the road happened recently that I need to write about to tell you. So more new posts will also be coming. I was rearended and had to get a new car (ugh but a new car!). My Mommy had another trip to the ICU in which certain words were used and I also changed jobs. There also are some trips to my Happy Place that I need to fill you in on, but for now, let’s just say I am happy you are still here. You are still here, right? *peeks around the giant dust bunny that is once again tumbling but now has glitter in it to see* Ok…just checking.

Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I did drop off the face of the earth for a bit and stumble through life, but I didn’t die. I am Fat Girl still wondering if I can dig glitter bombs in my book covers Running. The experiment continues…

On Being Evacuated of How I Learned That Seester Did Not Know Who Her Grandparents Were

I don’t know if you heard, but California is on fire.  No really.  There are currently several fires being fought over there and some of the video looks like the next apocalypse.  I know that fire fighters from here in Arizona have been sent to help fight and people I know are being evacuated.  It is a scary situation.  I know because I have been there.  Many years ago, there was a fire by my house and my Seester and I had to be evacuated.  It taught me many things, like what was important, but also that my Seester had no idea who her Grandparents were.

My Seester was visiting me for the weekend when we heard there was a fire nearby that had been started by a tire blowing out on the freeway.  You see, I live in the world’s largest Ponderosa Pine tree forest and every summer fire is a true problem.  The forest service is even known to shut down the forests around here to hiking, biking and camping if fire danger is too high.  Seester and I wondered how close the fire actually was and decided to go outside and see.  As we walked outside, I noticed that it looked like it was snowing outside, which was weird since it was June.  Well, not too weird since I have known it to snow in June here as well (Yes, it snows in Arizona. I live at 7000 ft, remember).  Seester and I looked at each other and shrugged.  We then heard the sound of a chopper and saw it fly overhead with a giant bladder full of water.  Huh.  This fire must have been going either awhile or it was moving fast.  Then my Seester gasped, grabbed my arm, and pointed to the trees behind our neighborhood.  Flames.  Giant flames.  We could actually see the flames above the trees.  Then I put two and two together.  That wasn’t snow.  It was ash.  So, what do Seester and I do?  We take out our phones and take pictures.  Yup.  This is us, dear readers, with a fire so close it is raining ash and we can see flames and Seester and I decide to take photos.  As we are taking photos, I happened to look down the street and notice something.  My neighbors are all loading up their cars with their belongings.  Huh.  Oh crap!  Maybe we should do that!  Seester and I agree that we should go grab stuff and start loading up both our cars.  Because obviously we needed to do that.  So we ran inside to try to determine what stuff needed to come with us.  Where we were going to go was not even a thought.  Just getting out was.

Now, if ever you are put into this situation, remember this.  Some stuff is just that….stuff.  It can be replaced.  I immediately packed a bag of clothes and Seester gathered up her stuff.  Of course, pets are a first priority and at that time, I had a sweet Heeler dog named Princess Fatty and all of her stuff was gathered up (Shhhh…this was before Ninja’s time with me).  After that initial gathering, it was time to decide what else needed to be put in the cars.  The CPU from the computer was a no brainer as was all the important papers for the house.  But what else to pack?  The one thing I wanted that cannot be replaced were family photos.  Seester and I gathered up all my photo albums and placed them in boxes.  As we took them out to the car, we noticed everything was covered in a red film.  Slurry.  My house and driveway had been coated by a fire-retardant and now smoke was filling the area.  Holy crap.  The fire was closer than I thought.  It was then that we were approached by a police officer.  He quickly asked if we were ready to leave and then told us we had 10 minutes to gather anything that we wanted and to evacuate the neighborhood.  I noticed my elderly neighbors being helped out by an ambulance and was grateful they had a way out.  Quickly, Seester and I ran back into the house to gather the photos off the walls and shelves.

Seester was busy pulling photos off the walls and I the shelves, when she turned to me and we had this conversation

Seester (pointing to old family photos on the wall):  “So do you want these old pictures of these babies and people we don’t know?”

Me (a little confused):  “Um…yes!  I mean do you think I just put up photos of people I don’t know on my walls?  Those are family photos.  Don’t you know who they are?”

Seester:  “I mean, I don’t question your decorating taste.  I just thought you had some fascination with old photos you found at an antique store or something.  Who the hell are these people?”

Me (laughing):  “Your Grandparents.  They are your Grandparents. Not random photos I just put up but our Mommy’s parents.  Please take them off the wall so they don’t burn up.”

Seester:  “Well good thing I didn’t say these were creepy old photos of people I though you had randomly put up.  That would have been bad.”

In her defense, our Mommy’s parents both died before she was ever even thought of so that is probably why she didn’t recognize the photos (or at least that is what I am telling myself).  By the way, ten minutes goes by super fast and soon the police officer was back, banging on my door, telling us to leave NOW.  We ran out to our cars, Princess Fatty in tow and watched him put a big X on my door.  It all seemed so surreal as we drove out of the neighborhood and I wondered if my house would still be standing soon.  Luckily for me, the fire was contained and the neighborhood was spared.  We were able to return in the morning and the creepy old photos put back on the wall as I explained who everyone was to Seester.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did however get evacuated and have to explain wh the people in the family photos were to Seester, but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl who apparently takes photos amongst the falling ash and nearby flames when there is a forest fire Running.  The experiment continues…

How To Have Fun With A Head Injury

I know I told you all about my Mommy falling and getting hurt because that is when I discovered she had a potty mouth.  But what I didn’t tell you is that she also had a really good concussion from the fall.  Now if you have never dealt with anyone with a head injury, it can be a little frustrating.  You see, head injuries repeat themselves quite a bit.  They can’t help it and they are not aware they are doing it.  It is part of the injury to the brain.  I always tell the parents of my patients that this is normal and it will pass but as the daughter of the patient, it was hard.  I didn’t realize how hard it was being a family member of someone with a head injury.  I didn’t want to get frustrated with my Mommy because it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t remember.  To make it easier, I decided to have some fun.

After she fell, my Mommy was in the ICU and I got down there the next morning after her accident (there had been a wicked snowstorm the day before and the freeways had closed so I wa unable to get there sooner).  She luckily knew who I was (not always the case) and who BFF was so that was good.  I knew I would need to be down there for a bit, so I proceeded to move in to my Mommy’s apartment and stay with her during the day.  The first day or two were rough as Mommy asked about every 15-30 minutes what had happened.  It went something like this”

Mommy:  “Where am I?  What happened to me?”

Me:  “You had a nasty fall Mom.  You are in the hospital and you broke some bones.”

Mommy:  “Oh yes.  I remember now. ”  and then she would proceed to talk about something else for 15-30 minutes.

15 minutes later….

Mommy:  “What happened?  Where am I?”

Me:  “Remember Mom, you fell and broke some bones.  You are in the hospital.”

It was a never-ending and tiring situation.  To make it easier, I decided to make it a little more fun on my end.  I mean, she wasn’t going to remember what I said so what did it matter, right?  The next time the conversation went like this:

Mommy:  “What happened?  Where am I?”

Me:  “Mom.  Aliens abducted you.  They took you up in their spaceship and probed you.  You had to come to Area 51 to get checked out, but it is a secret military hospital so we have to stay quiet.”

Mommy (whispering):  “Oh my goodness.  Do you think they will come back for me?”

Me (trying not to giggle):  “Do you want them to?”

Mommy (still whispering):  “Well, no!  But we better not talk about it in case the room is bugged. I sure don’t want to be probed again.  That could not have been comfortable.”

Me (really tying not to laugh loudly):  “Ok Mom. I am sure they won’t come back. Let’s just watch tv.”

I know you may think I am a horrible daughter, but after so many hours of being asked the same question over and over, I really just needed some comic relief.  It worked for awhile and I think she fell asleep for a bit.  Then when she woke up…

Mommy:  “What happened?  Where am I?”

Me:  “You ran away and joined the circus Mom. You fell off the tightrope and broke some bones.  Luckily, the Strong Man carried you here and the clowns called me.”

Mommy:  “No why would I do that?  That is stupid. Are you fucking around with me?”

Me (deadpan serious):  “Mom.  Would I ever do that?”

Mommy (glares over at me):  “Yes.  Yes you would.  I don’t believe you.”  The nurse walks in and Mommy looks at her “Did I really fall off a tightrope at the circus like my daughter says?”

Nurse (horrified and trying not to laugh as she looks at me):  “Did you really tell her that?”

Me (not at all ashamed):  “Yup.  What?  She isn’t going to remember in 15 minutes anyways.”

Nurse (shaking her head turns toward my Mommy):  “I am sure whatever your daughter tells you is correct.”  I start giggling uncontrollably and have to turn away.  I mean bravo to the nurse for playing along.  My Mommy caught on to that one and smacked me.  but 15 minutes later…

Mommy:  “What happened?  Where am I?”

Me:  “Ummmm.  Well, you decided to take up break dancing.  As you can see, that didn’t turn out so good for you Mom.”

Mommy:  “Guess I shall have to cancel those lessons then.”

Me:  “I already did Mom.”

I can now hear the nurse outside my Mommy’s room laughing as she listened in while she was charting.  At least she didn’t think I was terrible and found it funny.  Because 15 minutes later…

Mommy:  “What happened?  Where am I?”

Me:  “Mom, remember how we talked about that sex position I didn’t think you should try?  Well, I was right.  Look what happened.” I hear even more laughter from outside and from more than one person so I am assuming the nurse has called her co-workers over.

Mommy (giving me stink eye):  “Shut up. You are totally fucking with me.”

Me:  “Yup.  Sure am Mom. But next time let’s not try something new without fully reading the description.”

Mommy rolled her eyes at me and laughed.  At least she had her sense of humor.  And so did I because 15 minutes later…

Mommy:  “What happened?  Where am I?”

Me:  “You decided to drive in a Nascar race and crashed into the wall.  So here you are, in the hospital and broke some bones.”

Mommy:  “Well, I guess I didn’t win the race. Shit.”

Me (giggling softly):  “Nope.  But there is always next time.”

Mommy:  “I don’t think so.  I think I better not drive those fast cars anymore.  Sounds pretty dangerous.  I mean I am no Danica Patrick.”

Me (laughing out loud):  “No Mom, you aren’t.  Better stick with a regular car.”

Mommy:  “Yup. What made me think I could do that anyways?  That was dumb.  Remind me never to get some wild stupid idea again.”

Me:  “You got it Mom.  Check Nascar off the list of career choices.”

I think you get the point.  Luckily, the episodes got fewer and fewer as the day progressed, although she still doesn’t remember a lot of what happened and that is ok.  Brains are weird that way.  I don’t know if I would recommend this method as a nurse, but let me tell you, it sure made those first few days a lot more enjoyable and made me, my Mommy and the nurses laugh.  A lot.  And sometimes in times of stress, you need a little laughter.  Every 15 minutes.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did have to come up with new reasons my Mommy was in the hospital every 15 minutes, but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl whose Mommy even with a head injury knew I was fucking around with her Running.  The experiment continues…

 

 

The Time I Thought I Was In a Secret Porn Video

You might be surprised at this information, but I see a massage therapist.  Yup.  This Fat Girl gets naked every week to get her rolls massaged and all the stress worked out. It really does make a difference in my mood and my migraines.  If you have never tried one, you really should.  I have been seeing my massage therapist for over ten years and she knows my body well and where are my areas of stress.  Just once have I cheated on her by seeing another therapist while on vacation.  And that one time convinced me I was currently starring in a secret porn video.

Sometimes, when you are on vacation, you just want to really relax.  That is what I had in mind when I booked a massage, even though I was weirded out by someone other than my regular massage therapist putting their hands on my fat rolls.  I mean, she has done my massages forever so I am super used to the way she does them.  And plus, she knows my knots and areas of tension.  But, I really wanted to relax so I thought I would give this whole spa thing a try on my vacation.  Everyone always raves about how awesome it is to do a spa thing.  I wonder if they ever had my experience.  I was at least comforted by the fact that my massage therapist was a woman (although to be honest it really does not matter to me).  I started out with a sea salt scrub and that was quite messy.  Would have been nice if they had told me to put my hair up while they were doing it as I felt a little like it got everywhere.  But my skin did feel amazing afeter the scrub.  So soft.  I was anticipating the massage to be just as relaxing.   I was told to shower the scrub off and get back on the table.  This is where the massage started to feel a bit like a secret porn video.

After I situtuated myself back on the table, the massage started.  The massage therapist opened up the oil bottle and proceeded to pour what felt like the entire bottle on my back.  No joke.  I have never felt so oily in my entire life.  I could feel the oil filling in all the fat roll spaces, creating little puddles where I didn’t think oil could pool.  I was so greasy that when she started to massage me I could only feel her hands sliding all along the rolls.  I was actually scared her hands might slip into places that no massage therapist should enter because I was that slippery.  As she moved on, she proceeded to pour more oil on me, like another full bottles worth.  On just my arm.  I am not kidding.  It was right about then that I started to wonder if the porn music was gonna start and the bright lights were going to go on as someone shouted “Action!”.  There was so much oil on me you could have deep fried me.  I waited for the massage therapist to remove her robe and be dressed in some scantily clad unders or something else quite bizarre.  Maybe this was a fetish porn video.  I mean I am a big girl, so that could be it.  Like a hidden camera fetish porn.  Is there such a thing?  It was either that or I was being prepped for some girl on girl oil wrestling match that I was unaware of.  As the massage continued, more and more oil was slopped on me and I was starting to feel it flow down into places it shouldnt.  That is when I really wondered if the secret porn video was going to start.  Any minute now.  I wanted to look up and see but was afraid that oil would spill into my eyes and blind me.  It really was a problem.  I didn’t want to be blinded by oil but I also didn’t want to be part of some Fat Girl fetish porn video without my knowledge. I mean, at least warn a girl so she can make sure her girly bits are properly shaved.

I finally was told to turn over and gratefully snuck a peek around the room.  Nope.  No cameras or sudden wrestling ring.  Whew.  I was hoping she would use some of the leftover oil puddles that had rolled onto my front, but no such luck.  I swear she opened another bottle of oil and lubed me up even more.  I couldn’t even relax because I kept expecting the porn music to start and hear all sort of weird sex noises as I was being massaged.  I was never so grateful for a massage to be over in my entire life.  Totally not relaxing.  Not when you kept wondering when you would hear the cameras rolling.  I was so greasy that the towels couldn’t even soak it all up and my hair looked like it had been drenched in oil.  I mean if I wanted to do a porn shoot or have the slicked back look to my hair, I was killing it.  I even felt like my body squished as I walked as all the oil had no other place to go because my skin was saturated.  I quickly slid back to my room and took what felt like the longest hottest shower to get all the oil off and I still didn’t succeed.  I actually checked in my room to make sure there weren’t any cameras set up to continue filming the secret porn video that I felt like I starred in.  Thank goodness there weren’t any.  So spa experience while on vacation is obviously not my thing.  Nope.

I vowed never again to cheat on my massage therapist.  Not worth it.  Not unless I suddenly wanted to change careers and become a fetish porn actress.  Hmmmm.  I mean I could make a good living.  But maybe in another life…. (Note to self:  clear browser history on how to become a fetish porn actress).

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did cheat on my massage therapist and regret it once but I didn’t die today.  I am Fat Girl who thought she was secretly in a porn video instead of a massage Running.  The experiment continues…

 

 

 

 

When You Discover Your Mom Has The Mouth of a Sailor

Earlier in this year, my Mommy gave us all a scare. She fell and broke several bones, including her pelvis. It was scary because we think she laid on her floor of her apartment for about 16 hours before Bestie found her and called for help. Some of the scariest moments of my life were when I couldn’t get a hold of her and was waiting to hear if she was ok. Mommy made a full recovery but during that time was when I discovered for the first time in my life that my Mommy has the mouth of a sailor.

Because my Mommy broke her pelvis when she fell, she had to have physical therapy and go to a rehab center to get well enough to go back to her apartment. Now, luckily, she did not need any surgery. While we were in the hospital, she had physical therapy working with twice a day to walk. There we were, sitting in the ICU, when she sees the physical therapists coming towards her room. Mommy turns to me and says “Well here come those mother fuckers again”. Shocked, I looked at her, probably with my mouth hanging open and gasping at her word choice. She just looked back at me matter of factly and said “What? That is what they are. Straight up mother fuckers.”

Never in my life have I heard my Mother say words like this. Ever. I really was shocked beyond words and sat there stunned while she muttered under her breath at the physical therapists as they got her out of bed and made her walk. I am certain she used those words a few more times as well. I even heard her say she was a “foul mouthed old lady” at one point. I felt like a parent wondering where the heck she learned how to cuss like that. I mean…was my mother hanging out in biker bars or with military men when I wasnt around? Maybe I needed to put a GPS tracker on her and find out who she was spending all her time with or what movies she was watching. Was she taking a course in how to swear? Where the heck had she learned that phrase and why was she calling people that? My Mommy had never used language like that. Or at least not in the presence of her children.  I decided I really couldn’t handle her calling the physical therapists that phrase so when she got back we had a conversation.

Me (still shocked): “Um Mom. You can’t call the physical therapists names.”

Mommy (indignant): “I most certainly did not call them names.”

Me (slightly giggling): “Yes you did Mom. You called them mother fuckers.”

Mommy (matter of factly): “Oh yeah. Well they are mother fuckers.”

Me (now trying not to laugh): “Oh ok. So glad to know what you think. Can we try not to call them that?”

Mommy: “Well I guess I can try. But I am not making any promises”

The next time the physical therapists came around, I braced myself. But even though she complained and muttered under her breath, she did not call them MFers.  She did use a string of swear words that I have also never heard her utter as they made her walk, but she didn’t call them names. Seriously where did she learn to seear like this? When she was getting back into bed she said quite loudly “Oh kerflufflebunny”. I busted out laughing with tears running down my face. What the heck was that phrase?

Mommy: ” What are you laughing at?”

Me (in between laughs): “Kerflufflebunny? What in the world is that?”

Mommy: “Well. You told me I couldn’t call them mother fuckers any more.”

Point made.

Oh Mommy. You are too funny. And yes, she made a full recovery (with a lot of swearing).

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Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I did get the shock of my life with the words that came out of my Mommy’s mouth but I didn’t die. I am Fat Girl who wonders who my Mommy hangs out with to learn such words Running. The experiment continues…