The Glass is Half-Full

Have you ever binge-watched a show? I have and I blame Netflix. And quite possibly I need to find a 12-step program. And now when I there is a series on television that I get hooked on the seven days until the next episode are excruciating. And I'm grateful for the recaps because I almost forget what I watched.  This is the first summer that I've been forced to watch one of the binge-worthy series without one of the not-so-little Piggins. They're all adulting while clearly, I'm not! Last summer, Matthew and I watched Game of Thrones. (I abhor the violence and nudity but the story line is intriguing. Of course, I needed Matthew to remind me who was who and which kingdom was which.) We would hear John come home from work and we would quickly turn off the TV because we didn't want him to witness our pathetic bingeing (especially since he'd been adulting all day).  I have gotten John to join me, however, when we watched Homeland. It was a sad commentary that...

My life has been a lot like this roller coaster. Not just ups and downs, but several twists and turns. Sometimes I am whooping for joy, hands in the air ready for the what lies ahead while at other times I can see a loop or drop coming and the dread is palatable, the nausea is real. And also like a roller coaster is my weight. I've never been svelte but I have been within the BMI range. I have also been overweight and more recently the scale put me in the obese category. And that should have scared me into action but instead I just made excuses or rationalizations like "It's because I use a wheelchair to get around," or "I'm sure once X happens I'll lose that weight," or (my favorite) "It's just water weight/constipation". (Like all I needed was one really good poop and I'd be at my target weight! No plunger in the world could have worked! Like comedian Ron White says 'Just one really good dump from a new pant si...

Add insult to injury. My hair is gray. AND thinning!!! And to pile on to my grievances, I am losing weight but most of it appears to be coming from my face and breasts. Yikes. I'm having a difficult time feeling like the hot-mama I used to be or to trick myself into believing I still am. Hell, the wheelchair definitely doesn't help. On a recent bar-hopping excursion (when we crashed our friend's anniversary celebration), we went to several establishments I frequented in my younger and wilder hot-mama days. It was a night of dichotomys. The me that I was would have never looked twice at the me that I am. But I so wanted to jump out of my skin and chair and celebrate like I used to. Okay, maybe not exactly like I used to (I am after all 50 something and the mother of three adult children), but just for a moment and without any recriminating video proof!! But now I'm getting over myself as I realize nearly every woman over 50 probably feels something akin to wh...

Rain, rain, go away. Don't come back another day. My hair is frizzy. Barometric pressure makes me dizzy. If I go out, wet I'll be. No umbrella hand free to protect me. I'm no Longfellow! And I don't think I'd win a poetry slam, but you get the idea. Rainy days, even when they're not Mondays, get me down. Because when you're navigating the world while four-wheeling, rain presents additional challenges. Last week, for example, the wind was blowing hard enough to blow my wheelchair seat cushion off my car where I'd placed it while removing my chair. It landed in a puddle, upside down, and rested there long enough that the absorbent material in the comfy cushion absorbed quite a bit of water. I may have let an expletive fly, because a store clerk who was standing up against the window under the protective eave, smoking a cigarette and looking at her phone, actually looked up. She didn't come to my aid, but she looked up. Thankful...

If you've read my blog in the past or know me from the 'real world', you know about my pup Wally. Well, this 105 pound lap dog is now on a diet. Yep, one too many loaves of Asiago cheese bread stolen from off the counter. Or two too many peanut butter and treat stuffed Kongs. Or could it be that he's been too good at his job of Pre-Wash leaving no crumb (but plenty of green vegetables) un-licked. It certainly could be that his sweet, adorable face has garnered him a few (hundred?) extra treats. Or that a certain someone has soft-spot and can't ignore Wally's laser-focus stare while eating her breakfast/lunch/dinner compelling her to share a small morsel. I have to blame you and your charm (well, not completely because I am a push-over). Whatever the reason, my companion and I are now on Weight Watchers together. Instead of two cups of kibble twice a day, Wally will now get one and a half. No table food from a certain someone that is me no matter how guilty...

I've been in my wheelchair now for over a year - sometimes it seems like 20 and others times seems like days. Depends on a lot of things including my mood for the day (whether my 'get-up-and-go' got up and went), the weather (let's face it even the heartiest of Michiganders don't always want to venture out in blustery, snowy or icy days) and what's on the agenda (if I have a date with my hubby or going to see the not-so-little Piggins). Another variable, about my attitude towards the wheelchair, however is what I believe I will receive from some people when they see me in the wheelchair. What I mean is, some people see ME in a wheelchair and others see me in a WHEELCHAIR. Many times someone will see me coming and give me a look of sorrow or pity - it's a look that gets under my skin and makes me want to scream "You don't see me -I'm not pitiful I'm in a wheelchair!" (actually, what I want to scream sometimes includes a few four-letter...

The title of this post must be read with the tune of "I Feel Pretty" from West Side Story. And feeling wonky is in no way similar to feeling pretty. As a matter of fact, I'm fairly certain they are as dissimilar as vanilla and chocolate or logic and 45. Actually, it's difficult to feel wonky and pretty at the same time. My children used to accuse me of making up words and I'm pretty sure wonky is one of those words. According to Merriam-Webster wonky is an adjective of British origin (as a matter of fact, when I'm feeling particularly wonky as I do now, I am imagining John Oliver speaking the word, wonky) that means "shaky, unsteady, awry". And that is exactly how I feel. It's a great descriptive term. I even used it with the doc at urgent care on Saturday, and I hope he knew what I meant and didn't think that I was just cracked (another great British slang term meaning loopy). It's a UTI and after a couple days on an antibiotic, I...