What's At The End Of This Tunnel? Could It Be...Light?

Ever just been overjoyed and filled with gratitude?  That was me today.  Seriously, just so overwhelmed by the generosity and support of others.

I got the draft of my grant complete! Good thing #1.  Cannot tell you what a relief that is or how much better I feel. I still have one section left - it's suppose to be optional, but really isn't optional at all. Not if you want to get funded. It's like bonus points  that you can't afford to pass up. I actually plan to knock that out next Monday and Tuesday because I'll be the only one in the office and there really shouldn't be too much traffic. But the bulk of the application is complete! Yay, I can breathe again!

Then I sat down with the advisor for our program and we ran through her edits/suggestions. I had been sending her pieces to read as I completed them and told her to be critical. And I honestly want her to be because that's the only way to get good - you can't improve the weaknesses you don't see.  We got through most of the edits and there weren't many. I kinda think I did an okay job writing this thing. Good thing #2.

I submitted a few sections of the grant to an external reader for a second review. I have to say, I could not have done any of this without her assistance. She was so helpful when I met with her last month at conference.  I felt like she genuinely cared about my grant and seemed like she would do anything to help. During the meeting she even emailed me some templates to use.  Like, who does that? In the grant world, no one.  

We've had some correspondence and she understand the situation I'm in and that I'm doing this alone, with no grant writing experience. So after I sent her the three sections she's going to read, she sent me templates for all the other sections! Good think #3. I've already written them but it will be really helpful to go back and compare to know if I'm on the right track.

So I'm feeling really good. Relieved. Hopeful. Grateful.  I've made it through the most difficult part of the process and I am happy!

*Side note to say my blog DOES NOT represent my writing skills. I promise!  Every time I read an old post, I find errors. Every time. It's embarrassing. I really do know proper grammar. Now the spelling...eh, the spelling is probably questionable. But the grammar, I've got that.  So I have no excuse- I'm just a sloppy blogger. I may, or may not, try to get better about reading/proofing but I'm not making any promises.

FML

It's nearly 2:30 a.m. and I am running out of ways to procrastinate.  I'm suppose to be writing my grant. But my brain is just done. I'm on what should be a simple section but I can't even muddle through it. Largely because I just feel so damn lost. How do I know what they want? How do I know it will make sense? How do I write this damn thing? 

Have I not filled you in on that? Surprise, surprise - guess who's writing? I officially got told last week. Last week! That should tell you everything you need to know about how this entire thing has been handled. That and the fact that the original grant writer leaned over to me in a meeting and said, and this is an exact quote, "Well, you can write it and when it doesn't get refunded I'll say see, you should have submitted mine." I wanted to punch him right in his snarky little face.

But only violent people do that. And I'm not violent. See, I'm really not or I would have knocked him out. Or at least tried too.

What was worse than him actually having the audacity to say that to me was the fact that both his supervisor and my supervisor were also in the meeting and neither one said anything. At one point I cut him off and said "Excuse me? Do NOT talk to me that way."

But why did it even get that far? One of those two should have reigned him in and shut him down. Weak. Weak. Weak.

Okay, see what happens when I don't get enough sleep. Two nights of no sleep and I turn into a bitter, ranting hag - not a good look. I'm shutting my own self down and calling it a night!

Pretty Please

**Proceed with caution. This is a really personal post that includes adult content. And the word Vagina. If either one of those makes you uncomfortable, you probably shouldn't read any further.**

Soooo remember in an old post when I was talking about my sense of humor and how sometimes people could interpret it as insecurity but I said that was never true because the things I'm really insecure about are the things I never talk about?

Of course you don't remember...it was just a random line in an old post from several years ago. But it's true.  I will joke all day long about my height, make fun of my dumbo ears, laugh at myself for being a lousy cook and crack jokes about being a chubby chick  strike that, fat chick now because who am I kidding?  I've passed the chubby threshold...but the point is, I can do all that because I'm not insecure about any of it. Do I like that fact that my ears jut out? Or that I have muffin top and back fat? Or that I'm shorter than most 12 year olds? Not particularly. Do I feel self-conscience about any of it? Not particularly.

But I am insecure. I have huge insecurities. Which is why I have no idea why I'm about to share one of them. Okay, here goes...*Deep breath

One of the things I am most insecure about  is the fact that I *Oh my God. Am I really gonna do this? Okay. Just say it - really quick. Ihaveanuglyvagina. Yes. You read that right. I have an ugly vagina. Don't laugh! It's a serious thing. For real.

I had no clue, for a very long time. I mean, it's not like I had a frame of reference or anything. I've got the one, and that's it and I pretty much assumed they all looked alike. My first boyfriend, who was my first everything, never said a word. And when I said he was my first everything, I really mean everything.  Before him, I had never even seen male anatomy - like, not even a picture. I was so inexperienced. And clueless. But how could I be anything different when I didn't even know what my options were? It's not like they teach technique in sex ed and I never found a copy of Sex For Newbies.

So it wasn't great.  I didn't know it at the time - I just thought that's how it was done. It wasn't until I learned to have sex that I was like "Oh my God - this is how it's suppose to be? This! Is! Awesome!"

And I totally fault him. He was several years old than me and a real slut. You would think someone that had slept with so many people might be able to provide some instruction. Some feedback. Some type of guidance. But no - there was nothing. It was a very in the dark, under covers, not really looking at each other thing. And I think maybe that's why he never said anything to me. I honestly don't think he ever looked at me enough to notice...

So fast forward several years and some experience later: My husband and I have been dating a while and we've gotten into the comfortable stage. And he starts teasing me about it. And here's the thing - you can't "tease" a woman about her vagina. Ever. Just...no.

I was shocked - they don't all look the same? And mines ugly? I had no clue - it's not like I ever had a guy run away in horror screaming "Oh my God, No! It's too disgusting!" So it's not like it's gross, right? Right?

So I blew off the teasing as just that - teasing. But then, in the back of my mind the thoughts started to grow.  I started getting paranoid. What if it was gross? And over the years I started to feel a little self-conscience and then really self-conscience. So one day I did what any reasonable person would do - I googled it. And then I really felt bad.  Whatever you do, don't ever google it!

I call my oldest friend and start the conversation with "I HAVE AN UGLY VAGINA!" She didn't miss a beat. "How do you know?" "Because I googled it!" And apparently that didn't seem odd to her because the next thing she said was "Oh my God. What are you going to do?" She said it really sympathetically - like I'd lost my job or something. Huh? What am I going to do? It's a vagina...what can I do?

But there was something.

So the next morning I called my OB/GYN. I wasn't really sure how any of this worked I mean, how do you have a conversation like that? but I was determined. When the nurse answered the phone I asked to speak to the doctor. Of course, they weren't having any of that. I explained that I wanted to speak with her about a referral. Well, that really confused her so she asked what type of referral.  "A plastic surgeon." "A plastic surgeon? Honey, she's in Gynecology." "I know. I need to talk to her about a plastic surgeon....for a...uh...for a...uh...a labiaplasty" There was a deafening silence. Then "Okay, what's your name and number and we'll have her call you." Ugh. Really? Do I have to give you my name and number? Because I basically just told you that I wanted to have plastic surgery on my lady parts and I would feel soooo much better about that if you didn't know who I was.

Less than 5 minutes later my phone rings. "Amber, this is Dr. Hager. What's this about a labiaplasty? Why are you wanting to do this?!" So I explain, I feel self-conscience, I'm not happy with the way it looks...and I have the coolest OB/GYN.  If she didn't see me in stirrups with my knees up to my ears, she would totally be someone I would hang out with. Then she tells me - like a girlfriend, not like a doctor- "You could get an infection, have permanent scarring, suffer nerve damage, lose sensation and decrease your ability to orgasm. You really do not want to do this. Besides, there's only three people that see your vagina - you, your husband and me." Which technically isn't true. Because I don't see it.

My mind was pretty much changed the minute she mentioned loss of sensation and not being able to find the "happy place".  Because really, it doesn't matter how pretty it is if it doesn't work. I need it to work.

So that night I kinda casually mention the phone call to the doctor to my husband just to see what he would say and he flips out. I think the opening phrase was "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard! Why would you do that?" So I repeated some of the comments he's made. Actually, I think it I repeated all of the comments he's made. It must really suck for him that I have such a ferocious memory.  "I was just giving you a hard time!" he said, laughing. Yes. But you were giving me a hard time about my vagina. That doesn't fall into the simple "razzing" category.

That next afternoon my phone rings - my oldest friend. I answer the phone to "I HAVE AN UGLY VAGINA TOO!" "Ohhh no. You googled it, didn't you?"

I'm sharing this really embarrassing thing to highlight two very important life lessons: if you can't say anything nice about the V, don't say anything at all and whatever you do,  don't ever google it!

Boat Babe

I'm sitting here trying to type. Carefully, because I just painted my nails. That's not something I do often. I love the way it looks but it's a maintenance issue - I can't stand chipped nails. It looks so unkept and slouchy to me. If you're going to paint them, you have to take care of them. And on my long list of things to do each night, maintaining nail polish doesn't usually rank. 

But I needed to do something to make myself feel pretty. So painted nails it is...

That's actually the third good thing I've done for myself today. Because I also drank water and went to the gym! 

It doesn't sound like a big deal, but I hardly ever drink water - unless I'm at a restaurant, then I'll order a water with lemon. Other than that, it's like never. Seriously, I've gone multiple weeks without a glass of water. Technically your body get hydrated from multiple sources so it's not like I've been dehydrated. But I'm hydrating with the wrong things. Unhealthy things. 

So, I printed out a water tracking sheet to try to help keep me accountable. The goal is 64 ounces of water a day.  I drank 48 during work hours today. I also went to the bathroom about that many times too. It was odd, I'm sure, to see me running to the bathroom every 10 minutes. Really, I'm not having any issues - just small bladder and lots of water. No worries! Probably not real great for productivity but I was getting in some steps so that's a bonus.

I also got in some steps at the gym. It's been so long, I wasn't sure I could remember how to get there. Seriously, I don't remember the last time I went. But I had to go. Like it's not even a choice.  I eat way too unhealthy to not do anything. Plus, I've blown up. BLOWN. UP. 

I had gained a little weight - no, there's no such thing as a "little" weight with me, five pounds on my frame looks like ten. So, I had gained some weight during the last couple of months.  I didn't buy anything new to wear for the conference last month (I know, that's a first) and as I was trying on dresses, they weren't fitting. I said to my husband, "Man, I've gained weight! Can you tell?" and he said yes. Not in a jerky way, but in a sincere, I'm answering your question truthfully way. 

And I've gained even more since then.  I got on the scale at my Mom's house and I'm the heaviest I've ever been. Ever. Whoah.  Apparently, this emotional eating thing isn't working out so well for me. Now I'm just stressed and fat.

You would think the shock from the number I saw on the scale would be a good motivator. Or my clothes not fitting would be a good motivator. Or the fact that I am one french fry away from someone asking when I’m due might be a good motivator.

Nope.

None of that seemed to have any impact, whatsoever. Then the other day, something happened.  I’ve shared that my husband is honest. Sometimes when I share things, that can make him look like a jerk. Mainly because you don’t have the opportunity to actually hear it and two, because you don’t know him. But here’s the thing – if I ask him a question, he answers me honestly. Each and every time. Always.

So if I ask him if I look fat and he thinks I do, he’ll tell me. I never get offended by that. In fact, I appreciate it. And here’s why – because I can always, always trust that he’s authentic.  So when he tells me I look good – which happens more frequently than anything negative, by the way – I absolutely believe him. I know he’s not just trying to make me feel good or telling me what I want to hear. He only tells me that when he believes it. 

So the other day, I was sitting in front of my mirror in a towel, blow-drying my hair when he rushes in to the bedroom, phone in his hand and exclaims “I found a picture of you!” Of course, I was all “What are you talking about?” and he proceeds to pull up a photo gallery from facebook. One of those that shows a series of pictures that have funny things in them that you have to really look at them to catch it…and the very first one was a picture of a model, laying on her stomach in a thong bikini.  He was convinced it looked like me. 

"See, doesn’t that look like you? It looks just like you!” He was so convinced he even asked, only half joking, if I was sure no one ever took pictures of me on any long ago college spring break trips. So convinced that a few days later he even showed the picture to my Grandma, Mom and sisters. "Doesn't that look just like Amber?"

Just for the record – I’ve never, ever in my life had a body like the model in the picture, I’ve never laid on a boat and posed for pictures and I’ve never owned or worn a thong bikini. Well, not intentionally. I may have some bikini bottoms that are now so small that they may appear to be a thong…but I won’t be wearing those any time soon.

Obviously, it wasn’t me. The girl was a model for crying out loud! She was beautiful…gorgeous, really.  But it touched me that he thought we looked alike. Like I couldn’t wrap my brain around that fact that he would think I’m that pretty. Especially because he’s the one to see me at my very worst – crusties in my eyes, smeared makeup, slumpy clothes. That man has seen me gross, gross, gross. And he still thinks I look like that? Mind blowing.

So it kinda motivated me, pushed me out of this slump. So I’ve decided to try to be better – to just try, at least.  Not for him, but because of him.  If that even makes sense.

And at this point, I don’t care even if it doesn’t make sense because I just needed something to get me to put down the chips and get off the couch.  So here I go. Again. I may not be the most consistent or hardcore person, but at least I’m making an effort. And that's a start!

Turkey Do

I would like to say that my absence was due to Thanksgiving festivities but that's not entirely true. Mostly true, but not entirely. I did, however, have a wonderful Thanksgiving. Actually one of the best in a very, very long time.

First and foremost - no traveling to my in-laws! Instead,  my husband extended an invitation to his family to come to our house. No Thanksgiving night in a hotel! No McDonalds on Thanksgiving! We get to watch the Macy's Day parade! This is gonna be great!  Flash to the thought of the 9 of them throwing their used toilet paper in my trash can, instead of flushing it down the toilet...no, it's still gonna be great!

And it got even better. Because they didn't come! I know that sounds so hateful. It's horrible, I know. Completely horrible. And yet, it made me so happy.

So I got to host Thanksgiving for my SIL (the newly reconnected one), her family and an old friend. Now, this is a major feat for someone that cooks like...never. I mean, yeah, I make dinner but I don't cook. If it comes from a box or a sack - I'm good. Most the time. But to really cook? Yeah, I don't do that. I don't enjoy cooking. Mainly because I'm not good at it.  I know I'm suppose to feel inadequate or something because that's not a skill I have...but I'm not heartbroken over it. So I'm not a good cook? There are lots of other things I'm good at. Not exactly sure what those other things are...but I know there's something.

I have been in the kitchen enough to know that a large part of it is timing. So, I made a list (you know how I love a good list) and timed everything out. Yes, I made a timeline for my dishes. And I do have to say that it worked perfectly - everything was done and still hot. It was perfect.

Food prep - I got this!

And no major disasters either. Actually no disasters of any kind. Not that I made anything hard - although I did make dressing from scratch. Like I boiled a chicken for the broth kind of scratch. But even that wasn't hard - just time consuming. So I would call my first Thanksgiving a success.

As an added bonus, I actually got to have Thanksgiving with my family too. We split our holidays so I usually don't get to spend it with them but this year they decided to do it on the weekend so it worked out. Super low-key because I didn't host - just had to show up with asparagus casserole and a smile. And eat myself to death. I don't know why, but my family is always worried about running out of food. Really? We're all like 20 pounds overweight, I think we'll survive without a piece of pie. Of course, I totally ate one.

It was that sugar rush that helped me establish myself as Queen of Pit - I smoked everybody! If you don't know, that's a really fun game. It's based on the stock market, which doesn't sound fun at all. You have got to try this game - it's the coolest thing ever! You just have to try to collect a full set of commodities. You know, like wheat, barley, oats, corn...Yeeeah, doesn't sound real exciting. But it is! It's my party must have. So. Much. Fun.

So super great Thanksgiving.  Although I will say that I am up to here with Turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and anything else Thanksgivingish. You can only eat the same meal so many times in a row. And I think 5 days may have been pushing it.

And I got my Christmas decorations up!  What an experience that was! But that's a story for another day. A story involving broken bulbs, bruises and a whole lot of brawn.  Let's juts say my Christmas spirit will not be defeated!  So hello holidays!