Tuesday, April 19, 2011


I just love research on chronic pain.
Now it's using your own fat.
I don't know about you.
But they can have ALL of mine.

I've never had a weight problem. Well, let me rephrase that. I never had a weight problem until I hit 50. I promised my daughter that I'd quit smoking and I started going through menopause. 

Need I say more?

Let me just say that I now understand how difficult it is to lose weight. I have struggled with it since and I've adjusted my eating accordingly, however, in the last couple of years it just doesn't matter what I do. The weight will just not come off. Growing up I was the one that my girlfriends hated. They could look at food and gain weight and me? I ate noodles with butter at midnight and never gained an ounce. I went away to school and instead of gaining the freshman 15, I lost it.

This sucks.

When I first got diagnosed with Fibromyalgia the doctor wanted to put me on Lyrica. Now, I'm one of those annoying people that refuse to follow doctor's orders. I want to research it first and then I'll decide if it will work for me. So, I googled Lyrica. No fricking way would I take that. The first side effect was weight gain. I've got enough trouble without adding to it. It's bad enough feeling like a stuffed sausage let alone having to be in pictures looking like one.

My self esteem was in the toilet anyway. I mean.........I don't want to look 20 again. Women that Botox and face lift  themselves until they become aliens.....well, it doesn't appeal to me. I don't mind a few wrinkles on my forehead or a couple of lines around my eyes. Truth be known, I actually like it. 

I figure I've earned them.

I love seeing pictures of the quintessential matriarch. The woman that looks stately and majestic. How wonderful! Every wrinkle and line show the joys and heartaches of her life. Every deep crag shows profound wisdom and every gnarled hand reaches down to comfort the next generation. We've seen those pictures and thought that age brought that woman through everything with dignity and grace. As I look in the mirror thinking about aging gracefully I never bargained for trading the swan like grace of my neck for the wonderful waddle of a turkey. 

That's enough to send me to the freezer for more Ben and Jerry's.

I still cry when I find another gray hair where there is NOT supposed to be one. I still pray that the hair I find on my face is a stray eyelash instead of the beginning of a mustache. And I still keep all my size 6 clothes in my closet praying that I will one day get into them.

I know there is not a perfect dress size. I know I shouldn't define myself by that number; but I do. I still sometimes think about the perfect dress size, the perfect abs, the perfect thighs and the perfect face. OK.......I am not putting the neck on that list.

There is the perfect neck and I miss mine desperately!

All of this came about because I saw an article about using our own body fat for stem cell therapy to treat chronic pain. Do you believe that one? One sentence and it sent me off on a tangent about body image. 

Obviously, it doesn't take much to bring me back full circle to the weight. 

Think I still have some perfection issues?

I know......I know.........it's all about the inside.

Yeah, right.