Last Nights Post Explained-Super long post

So things with my family are less than good right now. Not all of them, but the key players.

I’m not sure that it’s any secret that my sister and I have a less than stellar relationship. Before everyone starts saying to me “Oh that’ll get better when you get older” or “it’s normal for siblings to fight. Mine picked on me and we’re best friends!” or any variation of that, just accept that no, my sister and I are not like you and your sister. We really, really aren’t. Unless your sister hated you for your ENTIRE LIFE and then when she turned twenty eight decided to change her mind and try to be friends with you. Unless your sister used such verbally abusive language to you as a child that you would shut yourself in your room and put a pillow over your face and cry for hours. And unless your sister was able to get away with doing these things because your parents LITERALLY didn’t know how to control her and told you to just “let it roll off your back” and therefore made no effort, no, me and my sister are not like you and yours. We’re not.

Needless to say, I avoid any unnecessary time with her. I would NEVER hang out with her alone. She raised me to be afraid of her. I feel inherently uncomfortable and quite frankly trapped when we’re left alone in a room together. I will do anything to get out of that room. And the sad thing is that she “wants” to be friends. But no, it just can’t happen. If she had legitimately changed then maybe it could. But she’s attention seeking at all times and she still says cutting things to me on a regular basis. She’s thirty fucking years old, and she’s quit her job because she can’t get along with anyone. She wouldn’t say that’s the reason, but it is. She’s had so many jobs and coincidentally, ALL the bosses she’s ever worked for just happen to be major assholes. What terrible luck, right? And my dad totally supports her just not working and trying to sell things at farmers markets. She practically lives off of my dad now and her husband works constantly. Not to mention they’re taking state aid. I’m sorry, state aid is there for people who are down on their luck, not people who have made CONSCIOUS CHOICES not to work. And if she declared her earnings from the farmers markets I can guarandamntee you she wouldn’t qualify for it. I can’t even really make you see my sister for what she is because there’s no one out there like her, but let’s just say we’re polar opposites. I play by the rules, I work TWO jobs, I support myself. Basically, I’m an adult. And I don’t think she ever will be.

So anyway, both of the things I’m going to tell you about will seem really, really minor. But in the context of my life they’re not. Sunday night we were at family dinner at my dad’s house and he said that he needed Chief’s help sanding the floors in house because he’s desperate to put it back on the market. He wanted Chief to come over next weekend. I said that I would prefer for them to pick a different weekend, because next weekend is the only weekend we have off together for a while. I worked last weekend, he works this weekend, we’re off next weekend, and then I’m back on the weekend after that. So the weekend after that (the 15th) is the weekend I suggested. And guys. I NEVER SEE CHIEF. He works until midnight and I’m typically asleep. So anyway, my dad acted like I was so damn unreasonable for saying that I would like to spend some time with my husband. He even said “I never get to see MY girlfriend!” to which I responded “That’s not my fault, so it’s not relevant here.” Long story short, he guilted me terribly and I left feeling like shit. Because sister and her husband are over there all the time dad gets her husband to help a lot, but they’re over there because they’re mooching off of my dad. They only have one car that they’ve wrecked, so now they’re down to a only sometimes working motorcycle and they borrow my dad’s truck CONSTANTLY. Like four days a week I would guess. And I would also guess he’s paying to fill it up for them.

So anyway, my dad makes me feel really bad, basically calls me selfish at the dinner table, and I leave the house at the end of the night and call my mom and sob. I just cried and cried about how sister can do no wrong even though her life is a fucking mess and I have tried so hard to put mine together and yet my dad still makes me feel like shit. All the time-this is definitely not the first. Please refer back to my published works, specifically a post right around Christmas.

So life goes on, and I go to family dinner at my grammas house which we have every Tuesday. My sister was being obnoxious, as per usual. She can’t STAND not to be the center of attention. I mean, really, it kills her. When everyone was making a big deal about me getting my masters degree and she quit her job she initially claimed it was so she could go back and get hers too. Well that shit hasn’t happened. Anyway. She’s razzing my mom because my mom said she was really tired because she had worked a long day. I wanted to tell my sister to shut the hell up and get a real job, and until then shut her mouth about other people being tired, because WE WORK. But I didn’t. I held my tongue. Then at dinner we started talking about church. I haven’t been going much lately because I’ve been so tired from the two jobs, but I know I should do better. So I said something about trying really hard to go this weekend while Chief is at drill. Now, sister has been going to an “ecumenical” catholic church. So basically, a catholic church without rules. Although she’ll call it a “catholic church without bigots”, RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY CATHOLIC GRANDMOTHER WHO IS CERTAINLY NOT A BIGOT. Guys, I’m not catholic, but my family is and I love them. The church has it’s faults, but it’s offensive to say that to a catholic person. Really. And I’m sorry, a catholic church that has a priest who can marry and ignores a lot of catholic doctrine isn’t catholic to me. THAT DOESN’T MEAN IT’S BAD. That’s my big disclaimer. It just means it’s not really catholic. So the way this relates is that my sister, at dinner in front of my whole family said “Don’t you think it’s funny that Librarian isn’t as good a Christian as me? Who’s the heathen now?” and I responded “Well, you go to a semi-fake Catholic church, so….” and she YELLED across the table “IT IS NOT A FAKE CATHOLIC CHURCH” and I said “Okay, calm down, I was just kidding”.

Anyway, after she had left my mom turned to me and said “DON’T make fun of her church. That’s HER church and it’s important to her”, to which I replied, “Oh, but it’s okay for her to call me a bad christian?” and my mom just kept saying “That’s her church, don’t mess with it” and I kept saying “She shouldn’t dish it out if she can’t take it”. Finally I did the dishes and got the hell out of there. I was pretty rude to my family I felt because I was on the verge of tears and just had to go. I wasn’t upset that my sister flipped out-I really don’t give a shit. She SHOULDN’T say stuff about me if she can’t deal with getting it back. I was upset that just like always, my mom took her side. She has always done that. My whole life. Sister could pick pick pick at me and when I would finally say something back sister would flip out and THEN my parents would deal with it. NOTHING has changed.

And here’s how I know I’m in the right on this one-BOTH of my aunts called me to check on me. Aunt 1 (the oldest) called and I was crying and she said “We know what it’s like for you-we’ve watched it your whole life. I’ve always wished there was something I could do to make your mother see what she does.” She went on to acknowledge that sister has basically abused me my whole life. she’s acknowledged this before, but guys, it really is good to hear that I’m NOT just a crazy oversensitive person that my parents make me out to be. They have always said I’m “too sensitive”. I think I’m the opposite of sensitive. If anything I’ve become resilient because of my childhood. That’s the only thing I can thank sister for-hardening me. Anyway, Aunt 1 offered to come over and sit with me because she knew I’d be home alone and I assured her I would be okay.

Thirty minutes later, Aunt 2 who doesn’t come to family dinners calls me with a random library question and then says casually “So…sounds like you have a cold. And oh how was family dinner?” Subtle, right? Obviously Aunt 1 called her, bless them. So I knew what she was angling for and told her what happened and she basically said the same things as Aunt 1, only tougher. She’s always very encouraging of me just standing up to sister, parental opinion be damned.

It’s good to have their support. I mean, they’re my mom’s SISTERS and they can see what’s wrong with our situation. They always have. They’ve always been my second moms. And I know it sounds like I’m overreacting to nothing, but this is just an incident in a long string of incidents that have made up my life, and I thought things were finally better at least with my parents, because my mom has ADMITTED to me that she wishes she had done more for me as far as sister goes when I was a kid. She has told me that she didn’t know how to control her so instead she let her steamroll me. And I’m not asking her to control her anymore-I’m an adult, so sister doesn’t actually bother me. At the age of 22 she told me that no one would ever love me and she wished I had died in the womb so she didn’t have to deal with me taking over her life. She was 22-not 16 and bratty, but 22. I honestly believe that was the point of no return. She said that to me the day I was packing for college, the day I was finally getting the hell out of there (she lived with my parents far longer than I did-practically still does). So no, her words don’t hurt me anymore because I know that I’m worth more than what she makes me out to be, but my parents will always have the ability to hurt me.

To top off a truly splendid week, I woke up with a terrible cold this morning. Snotty, sneezy, headache, sore throat-the whole deal. We’ve had lots of illness/injury around work today so I’m here for the long haul (one reason why I waited so late to publish this is because I didn’t want the Captain to see it and try to come in to work on her day off and make me go home). After crying myself to sleep last night and being really sick all day, I’ll be ready for some good solid zzzz’s tonight.

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My family is the reason I’ll never be a size six.

Let’s just say the last two family dinners I’ve had (Sunday and tonight) have ended in me crying in the car on the way home and eating a bowl of cereal before bed. There are worse comfort foods, but I’ve got to get my emotional eating under control or it’s going to unravel everything I’ve worked so hard for (aka size 10-12).

I’m going through such a rough patch with them that chief suggested we take some time away from them. After what happened tonight at dinner BOTH of my moms sisters called to check on me and one even offered to come over and sit with me.

And I’m not being intentionally cryptic. I’m just updating from my phone right now and don’t have the finger strength to type out all the terribleness.

More tomorrow.

There are days I’m grateful I don’t have kids

The day when they have tracked some sort of food with powdered sugar all over the carpeted hallway of the department is one of those days.

The day when I ask them about it and they all say “That wasn’t me!” or “I wasn’t even here when that happened!” is one of those days.

The day when I spend four hours creating a Black History Month Jeopardy game in powerpoint for them to play and all they can do is complain that the questions are too hard and can’t they just have candy is one of those days.

The day when one of them stubbornly refuses to listen when I tell her she can’t loiter in a certain area is one of those days.

The day when the twelve year old WHO KNOWS she’s too young to be in the teen center continues to sneak back in is one of those days.

When all of those days end up being the same day? Well that day makes being a barren cat lady look pretty damn good.

The art of bra laundering

That’s right faithful bleeps. Bra laundering.

Recently I went through a disillusionment about my breasts and my bras. I knew that my breasts had gotten smaller, significantly smaller. I even thought I was a D cup according to all logical measurements.

Oh, bleeps. I was so very wrong.

Yes, LOGICAL measurements would put me around a D or a DD (probably more like a DD). But, in the words of my bra fitter, my breasts have become “pendulous”, which is the nicest and most fancy way to say “saggy”. And she’s not wrong. Losing a ton of breast fat/tissue has led to a definite…lack in definition. And it’s not like my breasts can do sit ups to tone up. There ain’t nothing changin’ this sitch-ee-a-shun but a plastic surgeon, and ain’t nobody got time for that (or money). So all I can really do is sling those puppies in an awesome bra.

So sadly, I don’t have “normal boobs” as I had previously hoped. I’m a 36 G or a 38 DDD. I prefer the 36 G honestly.

A few weeks ago I spent half a mortgage payment getting new bras. I got three Wacoals and a Chantelle and after seeing the horrified look on my husbands face when checking out became newly resolved to REALLY make these last. Really. And now we’re getting to the point.

The way to really make a bra last is

bum

BUM

BUM

Hand washing.

I have never hand washed a thing in my entire life. I even throw SOME dry clean only stuff in the washer (because really, some of it can totes be washed on gentle and cold-don’t let those labels fool you, it’s all about fabrics). The way I previously handled my bras was to put them in the wash intermingled with everything else, wash the load on cold, and pull the bras out and, confession time, hang them on a rusty hook that’s been in the laundry room since before I moved in.

I’m giving you all a moment to inhale a collective gasp of horror.h4E2602FE

Moving on.

Yes, my $70 bras have been intermingling with my commoner clothes like jeans and t-shirts and then hanging from an oxidized shank of metal jutting from the wall. The bras that have been lost to these practices make me feel like a monster. BUT IN MY DEFENSE:

My mother never taught me any different. That bitch. We never had “the talk”.

So when I was using my never-going-to-have-future-child’s college tuition for my over the shoulder bolder holders and the girl who had spent the last hour feeling me up in the fitting room said “make sure you hand wash AND NEVER USE WOOLITE”, it occurred to me that maybe I’ve been doing things wrong-ish.

Then I found this article and thought something along the lines of “well this is…less than good. un-good even.”

For instance, I NEVER knew you weren’t supposed to wear a bra more than one day in a row. Guys. Sometimes I wear the same bra for a week. I’M DISGUSTING AND SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED TO LIVE.

No more.

I am a hand washing, bra rotating, air drying on a fancy air drying rack (courtesy of Bed Bath and Beyond (and $35.00)) bra connoisseur. And because I am a super cool party person, that is what I did tonight. I had Galentine’s Day with the Captain and her brother at our burrito joint, came home, emptied the sink of dishes (note that I did not actually DO the dishes-that would be silly. I merely moved them in all their dirtiness to the counter for Chief to deal with. Hopefully.), rinsed out the sink, filled that giant basin (because we have a giant sink) with warm water and some Mrs. Meyers Clean Day detergent, and smooshed my bras around in the bubbly goodness. A short journey later that entailed much rinsing and squeezing, they landed up on their fancy drying rack with towels underneath them to catch the drips. Here is the point basically to this entire post:

 

The cats are almost out of food and I have no bras to wear.

 

My pendulous breasts and I are trapped in a house of feline rage.

 

If you don’t hear from me, it’s been nice knowing you.

Forming an Attack Plan

I’ve been trying to decide what to do about the absence of my period. I’ve been trying to decide if it’s a big enough deal to worry about. I’m a little on the fence, but here’s what I’ve decided:

It’s a big enough deal. Not like I’m in danger or anything, but it’s not normal. It’s not okay. And while I’ve been putting off dealing with fertility doctors I feel like I’m at the point that I can’t put it off anymore. So here’s my attack plan:

If by March 1st I have no bleeding, I’m calling Dr. T and talking to the nurse. I’m going to tell her that I’m very bothered my period still isn’t here. It was supposed to come months ago. I’m clearly not pregnant. I’m going to ask her to discuss with Dr. T if there are any tests he would like to do, because if they can’t do anything to try and figure this out I’m moving on to the fertility clinic and would like for them to recommend a doctor to me.

Honestly, my preference would be to see an endocrinologist, just a regular one (covered by insurance) first. I feel like there might be some testing that could be done there before I move on to the fertility doctor, and I might mention this to them. It’s ridiculous that because of our healthcare system I can’t even get my period without paying a fertility specialist to help me do it. I’ve never felt the need to be pushy with Dr. T before because for the most part he’s done what I’ve wanted and we’ve been on the same page about things, but this is pretty messed up. Lupron was supposed to wear off in October. It’s mid February. And I’ve taken two rounds of Prometrium. Obviously something isn’t right.

Someone once told me that you have to be your own advocate. Infertility will convince you of that.

So come on Aunt Flo-I’m giving you two more weeks. Then I’m bringing in the big guns.

Worn Down

I’m feeling sort of exhausted by life, fall-on-a-fainting-couch-ish today.

I have a few things to tell you, but again. Exhausted. Not physically (for once). Just not my normal self.

So you’re getting a list post:

1. Chief’s SA came back as “normal. no infertility noted”. That’s what we were told. I asked Chief if they were going to send us the results and he said if we didn’t get them by the end of the week he’d request a copy. Because, please, it’s not enough for me to be told things are normal. I need to have numbers to google. I need to dissect and analyze every last thing. And I wonder why I have no energy left for life in general.

2. I’m wondering at what point last school semester I started to have my fall aparts from him being gone so much. I was just remarking to myself the other day that I had done so well this semester/night shift rotation. Today I’m feeling less so. I don’t want to break my streak, but right now night shift has no end in sight (even though the end is actually May) so I feel forlorn about it.

3. I bought some new roses yesterday. Retail therapy and what not.

4. My dad is finally letting me have my dog from when I was a teenager. He’s been holding him hostage but has agreed to let me have him. I get to bring him home this weekend.

5. Valentine’s day is in two days and I have had no precursor period symptoms. We’ll see if your predictions hold true anyway.

I like to sign off in some sort of definitive/adorable way, but I got nothing. Happy Wednesday. I guess.

SnoHMYGOD 2014 has struck UPDATED

The snow started around 5:00 and this picture was taken around 8:00.

All I have to say to the “meteorologists” is this:

Does THAT look like one inch of snow to YOU?!

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And it’s falling for another four hours at least…

UPDATE:

Ok, I just posted this five minutes ago, but I also just went to the bathroom and had EWCM. WHAT THE HELL DOES THIS MEAN? I mean, okay, I know what it means. BUT HOW?!

I don’t understand my life, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.