TMI Tuesday

This past Saturday was a busy busy day.  Went to a baptism at church, bought some new shoes, then worked a 6 hour shift.  As my shift got closer to ending I started feeling light headed and nauseous.  I had had a little bit of the flu on Thanksgiving, and so I figured it was because I hadn't eaten much in the past 3 days and waved it off.  After work, I Drove up the canyon with my sis to use her gift certificate to a fancy over priced French Restaurant (featured on Sister Wives!....sadly they weren't there) and had shrimp cocktail and dessert.  On the way back down the canyon I was really feeling sick but figured it was from being in the car and the twisty road.  By this time it was almost 10 pm and I still hadn't really eaten anything all day except the shrimp and dessert.
We decided to stop at WinnCo and get some groceries because they were giving away some free eats. 

The air outside smelled terrible due to being down wind from a sewage treatment plant.  I made a semi-joke about it making me want to throw up.  As we walked in to the store we ran in to our neighbor Josh.  I asked if his wife was there, and he said that he left her alone with the kids.  We joked that he was sneaking beer and that he was going to share it with us.

All of sudden I knew I really was going to puke.  I told my sister in a panic and ran to the bathroom which fortunately was close to the entrance.

Warning...this is gonna be gross.....hence the title. :)

I barely made it in to the stall....and Cue the Projectile Vomit.  Seriously, it was like the pie eating contest scene from Stand By Me.  Except I was the only one there.  Same amount of puke, less people.  Let me tell you...it was everywhere.  The floor.  The walls.  The seat.  My jacket.  My skirt.  My brand new $105 shoes.  In fact the only place that it didn't get on was my hair.  Not sure how that happened.

I tried to clean up as best as I could and had to tell some poor young girl at the customer service counter.  She tried to make me feel better but I could tell she was none too happy about the clean up job she was going to have to do.  And I was absolutely mortified.

Luckily my sister was close by and we were able to go home soon after.  She was so sweet to me and washed my clothes and everything.  I then spent all day Sunday in bed.  I am finally feeling better, and hope to never repeat this episode again.

P.S. My sister is appalled that I wrote this post.  She even made me edit and leave some stuff out.  She says I am bringing shame upon our family name.  Sheesh...Amateur.

TMI? Probably...

So the big news of the week is I passed my kidney stone yesterday...or at least most of it!  YAY ME!

It was embarrassingly tiny for the amount of pain that it caused.  I think calling it a stone is a bit presumptuous.  They should call it a kidney speck.  Or a kidney smudge.  Or a kidney-if-you-blink-you-will-miss-it-in-the-pee-strainer-thingy.  Though I guess none of those names command the kind of respect that the word "stone" does.

Anyway, I passed the stone but still felt really crappy and was worried that I might have an infection so I went in to work for a couple of hours yesterday and then went to the Dr.  Dr A said I probably only passed part of it and to keep drinking water til I felt like I would puke.  Really?  Water? I can think of many other things I'd rather consume until the verge of puking.  Cookies. Brownies. Ice-cream. Lasagna. Cookies. (Ooh!  That reminds me!  I have cookies in my purse!  Nom Nom Nom!).

So I tried to keep up with my water therapy last night, but really, after you eat 5 a couple pillsbury ready bake sugar cookies for dinner, there's only so much room for water.  I popped another flocase (designed for men with enlarged prostates.  Which I guess is fitting since the mailman thinks I'm a Mr. Anyway)) and swigged another case bottle of water.

Around 4 a.m., in the midst of a Sister Wives Marathon (creepily addictive) I got up for my 987th trip to the bathroom to pee my little guts out.  As I was sitting on the pot, minding my own beeswax, this spider came running at me at breakneck speed!  I panicked because here I was cornered, caught literally with my (under)pants down!  Around my ankles no less!  I didn't have the time (or the manual dexterity for that matter...you know, naked butt and all) to grab a shoe so I just grabbed a piece of toilet paper and squished him.

Or so I thought.  That little bugger was speedy and shot back out of the inadequate piece of TP.  But I was faster and turned again and caught him!  Ha!  Squashed him dead!  I threw the TP in the toity and continued on with my business.  Which really was just #1 people, but the whole spider incident was making it take longer.

Suddenly I felt something running across my bum!  AAAAAAGH IT'S THE SPIDER!!!!!!THERE'S A SPIDER ON MY ARSE!  HELP ME RHONDA!!!

Oh my gosh, breathe!  BREATHE!  No, No, of course it wasn't the spider.  It was just a little run away pee since I stood up in the whole process to catch that damn arachnid.

But it freaked me out for a second.  I mean, really.  Could you imagine the call to my Dr if it really had been?  Um, Hi, Yes, this is Stacy, I was in there earlier today?  Yeah, um, well I passed the stone, but now I have a bigger problem.  It has 8 legs and 4 eyes.  Should I go to the ER again?

Is this really my life?

TMI Tuesday

A few weeks ago I had an appointment with a dermatologist.  I originally made the appointment because I found a couple of spots on my chest that I was worried about and wanted to get checked out.  But in truth, the REAL reason I made the appointment is because I harbor a deep dark secret.

Adult Onset Acne.


Yep, old lady zits.

I know!  It's humiliating!  When I was growing up I NEVER had acne.  I mean seriously never.  Once in a while I would have a pimple and I thought the world was coming to an end.  I always felt SO SORRY for the kids that had terrible acne in highschool.  And I silently gloated was thankful that I had perfect skin.

Until I turned 25.

Since then I've struggled with acne.  I've been embarrassed about it for years.  I know it's all relative b/c I have a friend that truly has terrible acne at age 31, but when you've had perfect skin your whole life it's amplified by a zillion times.  And now I'm 37.  I decided it was time to get this under control.  So I made the appointment with Dr. Ross. For the 2 weeks before my appointment I prayed that this Dr. Ross was not going to look like George Clooney.  You know, Dr Ross on ER?

I went to my appointment and was greeted by yet another a male nurse.  Seriously?  Does UT not have ANY FEMALE NURSES any more???  Dr Ross came in and my fears were confirmed. He was H.O.T.  I was instantly mortified because I knew I was about to embarrass the crud out of myself.

First I  had to show him the spots on my chest.  I pulled down my shirt to the top of my bra, and there was a long hair coming out of my bra.  From my head of course, but HELLO!  Seriously???!!!  I said a silent prayer that he wouldn't notice it.  Or that he would think it was perfectly normal for a 12 inch long hair to be peaking out of a fat girl's bra.

Fortunately the spots were nothing to worry about.  He said they were hereditary.  Thanks a lot, Mom!

The next embarrassing moment came when I said I needed some skin tags removed.  Ugh.  I hate that word. Skin tags.  It's so disgusting.  I had a few dozen  on my neck.  And a gazillion couple under my arms.  He put  on his little glasses that should have made him look nerdy but only exaggerated his gorgeousness and got to business.  A little pain and blood later we were good to go.  He gave me some pills and cream for my face and I got out of there relatively unscathed.

That is until a few hours later when one of the removed skin tags under my arm was hurting and I went to look at it in the mirror at work. I got up close to look at it.  And that's when I noticed it.  The patch of hair that extend all the way across my arm pit (I hate that word too).  I had missed it with my razor!  For who knows how long!  It looked like Sasquatch had taken up residence in there.  I quickly checked my other arm pit , and sure enough, Sasquatch's twin brother.  Can we all say HUMILIATION together?

Poor Dr McHotty was probably throwing up in his mouth the whole time he was working on me.

I'm supposed to go back in October.  I wonder if I can afford laser hair removal by then?