Color me Green

I'm depressed. Money problems are threatening to overwhelm us, and I kind of feel like it is all my fault. A* and I were trying to figure out the budget for the week, and we had it pretty much worked out, when all of a sudden I realized that it is the beginning of the month, and therefore I will need to buy all of my prescriptions. So then we had to add in the Zoloft and the birth control for the endometriosis. Then I thought about how I will have two weeks off of work this month for my surgery, and A* will have to take at least a couple days off immediately following the surgery to take care of me. Sigh.

The whole problem started last month, when we foolishly borrowed a cash advance to pay an unexpected bill. DO NOT EVER GET ONE OF THESE!! Because we made it through that couple of weeks, but then Hey! you have to pay this back, in addition to all of your regular bills. So then you have to get another advance in order to pay the bills that you couldn't pay before. And it is a huge neverending circle of monitary despair, that you just keep getting sucked back into. Someone very, very smart (me) voiced her disapproval of this plan, but then was forced into by necessity. I knew this would happen!!

I just hate living from pay check to pay check, all the damn time. When will we have actual savings? When will we be able to go out to dinner without "planning" for it in the budget? When can I just assume that we will go to our customary breakfast on the weekend, instead of being let down because we had to spend a million dollars at the laundrymat instead? I feel like A* and I work our asses off and have nothing to show for it. Then we get in the mindset of hey, I worked hard for this money and I am going to do something fun! and we do and then realize that while that dinner out may have been fun, now we don't have enough money for the electric bill, and we were really stupid assholes for spending that money when we didn't have it.

I am just very frustrated with the whole situation. Now I have to sit and stare at A* all weekend, because we can't go out and do anything. As he emphasized on the phone WE CAN DO NOTHING. Mmmm, sounds fun.

Sorry this was so depressing, but that is what is going on right now. It can't all be sunshine and rainbows here at Little Bits...

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

I have two things to tell you all. Well, maybe two and a half, because I think one of them needs to be told with a little back story. But anyway, let's get the good thing out of the way first....

I AM HAVING MY BREAST REDUCTION SURGERY ON APRIL 24!!!!!!!!!

Woo hoo!! I am so excited. The nurse called me yesterday at work and told me the good news, that the insurance company had approved me and that I was all set. I have wanted this for so long, I don't even know what to do with myself. I had hot flash after hot flash as I made exhillerated calls to A*, my mom, my grandma, and everyone else I could think of. Then I got in trouble for making personal phone calls at work, but I was too excited to even care. I can't wait!!

Okay, now the next thing has to do with my dad. Let me just tell you a little bit about him and our relationship, though, before I start.

My parents got divorced when I was two. In a way, I think this worked out better for me because I don't remember them ever being together, so I never had any kind of problems with them being apart. Plus, I wasn't one of those kids that tried to get their parents back together, either, because the only life I knew had Daddy in one house and Mommy in the other. For a long time, I thought this was how all people lived, and by the time I knew that wasn't true I was just used to it.

My dad had visitation with me on Saturday. Now, I have to say that he always showed up, and always spent the day with me. However, that was the ONLY time I saw or heard from him. The rest of the week, it was like he didn't have a child at all. If I had some kind of function in the middle of the week, he wouldn't be there. I would never even think to just call him out of the blue to tell him something exciting that had happened during the day... we just didn't do that. And yeah, I could have called him, but I kind of think that I was the kid and he was the adult, so it was more up to him. He didn't come to choir concerts, swim meets, award ceremonies... Saturday. was. it.

When I was about seven, both my mom and dad got remarried. My mom married a wonderful man, who I feel is my dad too. He taught me how to ride a bike, took care of me when I was sick, and never missed a choir concert. He refers to me as his daughter, and I refer to him as my dad. I love him very, very much. My dad married a witch of a woman, who didn't like me from the very start because I was a product of my mother. And I guess in some ways I was a threat. I don't know what kind of woman would be jealous of a seven year old, but she was. The Saturday visits stopped, because I was miserable at their house. We worked out a new plan, and my dad and I met once a week for dinner together... minus his wife. This went on for years, and it was fine. Just the same way as the weekend visits had been.... Wednesday nights only.

Then, right around the time I was about a junior in high school, my dad remembered that he had a daughter. He came to one of my swim meets. He came to the Prom Grand March. Sometimes, he would even call me just to see how my day went. I don't know what happened, but I thought it was nice. As I got older, we just got closer. Now, I still try to see him at least once a week, but we also email each other a lot and call. I feel like now we are actually really good friends. He told me he was proud of me for the first time just a couple of years ago, and it felt so good. I count myself lucky to have two dads, not just one.

That being said, I was so hurt and angry at my dad the other night. I don't know if I am making a big deal out of nothing or not, but all I can say is that it really hurt my feelings. So, we're out for one of our customary Wednesday dinners. Everything is fine, we're chatting, and I tell him that I finally got approved for the breast reduction. He was excited for me, and I told him a little bit about it, but not too much, because, as he said, "I am your dad, and this is a little weird to be talking about with my daughter. Keep the details to a minimum, please." I can understand that, so I just told him the basics. He told me he was pleased that I could do this.

Then he added, "And after you get that done, you can start working out!" Okay, yeah, I can. I agreed with him, and explained that right now any kind of running or even walking fast or jumping around causes me pain. He nodded, and then said, "Because you know, I was looking at your senior picture the other day, and you were so pretty! You could get back there really easy." I must have had a foul look on my face, because he was quick to add, "Not that you're not pretty now! But man, in that picture you just looked so good, and you really could get back to that."

So now my father has told me how ugly and fat I am... now. But I "used" to be pretty. I didn't say anything, because it isn't worth it. But I felt really offended! What is wrong with the way I look now? Does a couple (or a lot) of weight have that much bearing on it? If it does, should it? So now I feel pressured to get the surgery and right away to whittle myself down to that elusive "high school picture" look. I was kind of hoping to just enjoy the new small perky boob look for a while, before I started working out like a maniac. Am I less successful because I gained weight? Am I not as good of a person? I don't think so. But that is how those comments made me feel. Do you think I'm overreacting to this?

Oh, and just an aside to that... when I got home I told A* the story, and OBVIOUSLY he was supposed to say, "No way, you are so beautiful and way better looking than you were in high school." But what he really said? Was, "Well, everyone looks better in high school." Ha! My self esteem is just up to the roof now.

Men.

Blah

This morning, as I was walking into work, the sky decided to vomit the entire contents of its stomach directly on top of my head. It was raining, hailing, the wind was blowing... my umbrella twisted its cute little pink self all the way around trying to protect me from the elements, but it was no use. By the time I made it to my desk, the back of my pants were soaked, and you could ring water out of my socks. My coat, which is hanging up as we speak, is still damp. It was not a very good way to start a (monday!) morning. And the kicker is, the weather didn't start to get out of control until the very second that I stepped out from under the protective covering that leads out of the parking garage. I'm totally serious... the sky waited until I was vulnerable, and then let me have it. And when the heck does it hail and lightning in February? In Ohio? Is someone up there playing a cruel trick on me?

In other news... well, there isn't really any other news. A* and I had a pretty quiet weekend. The most exciting thing that we did was laundry. Ha! We are such party animals. Get this~ A*'s nephew had his sixth birthday party on Friday night, and by the time we got off work, cleaned up, and bought his presents, it was about 8. A* called his sister and told her that it was just too late for us to come over, we would come and see him and give him his presents another day. Just too late! It was freaking eight o'clock, people, and the six year olds were still going strong. We are old.

Perhaps I will have something more exciting to talk about some other time, but right now I have to go drink some fiber subliments and eat some prunes... my hips are killing me.

Hello Toes!

Once, in my college days, I let a boy come up to my room. You know how things go in college, we had just been to a keg party and the drinks were flowing, and soon enough I was taking off my shirt... or he was taking it off, it doesn't matter to the story. Anyway, I turned around and this was his reaction.

He yelled out, "Those are the biggest goddamn tits I've ever seen!!" Now, I'm not sure if I was supposed to be flattered by these words, or turned on, but I was neither. Instead, I was mortified and very uncomfortable. The shirt went back on, the tits were put away, and he never saw them again.

But soon, this won't be a problem for me anymore. (Not that I am in the habit of bringing boys into my room and taking off my shirt... I don't think A* would take too kindly to that) It won't be a problem because... drum roll please........

I got approved for my breast reduction!!!!!! I called my insurance company yesterday, and for once I had a very nice and helpful woman get on the line, and she told me that they just approved it yesterday and they will be sending the paper work over to my doctor, who in turn will call me to set up a surgery time. I called at work, and when I hung up the phone everyone that was around me was leaning out of their chairs. I think my huge grin gave it away, and then they all burst into applause and hugs. It was great. I cannot wait.

I have been wanting this for so long, I won't even know what to do with myself when I don't have to want it anymore. I have been thinking of all the things I'll be able to do better... painting my toenails, running, dancing, bra shopping, buying clothes, cutting my toenails... the list could go on and on. No one would understand this unless they too, are cursed with ginormous breasts. Some girls, when I tell them I am having surgery, gasp and ask me, "Why in the world would you want to do that? Could you save some for me?" and I want to tell them, "YOU try carrying around two twelve pound watermelons on your chest all day and then tell me that you want these things." I think they would change their minds.

I'm nervous, of course. I mean, they ARE cutting out part of my body. And I know this is weird, but for the longest time my entire identity has been of the "girl with the big boobs". People who don't even know my first name will nod in recognition if someone says, "You know, that girl with the huge boobs." I feel like I will somehow be a different person, and then I think what will be my defining characteristic then? But on the other hand, I don't WANT that to be my indentity. I want to be the "girl with a nice smile" or something. I'm sure it will take some adjustments (no pun intended) but ultimately I will be a lot happier.

I haven't seen my toes in fifteen years. It will be nice to get reacquainted.

Memorial

My grandmother passed away late Saturday night, March 4 at around 11:00 pm. My uncle was holding her in his arms, and he told her that it was okay to go, everything is fine, we'll all be okay, and finally she let herself go. Yesterday we had a memorial service for her, in which my breathtakingly handsome twelve year old brother delivered a eulogy that anyone would have been honored to have read about themselves. I was so proud of him I didn't know what to do. He got his first suit (on the phone, when he told me that my mom and he were picking it out, he said, "And D, I look good.") and so eloquently stepped up in front of a church full of people, unfolded his dirty looking notebook paper, and proceeded to tell us all about Grandma better than any of us could express. There was not a dry eye in the church.
But instead of telling about her death, I would like to tell a little about the person that she was while she was living. And living she did, she never stopped. A fighter till the very end.
The first memory I have of her is with a head half full of curlers, reining over her family on the sun porch. Being an Italian family, nothing was ever said, it was yelled over everyone else who was screaming at the top of their lungs. And Grandma could yell with the best of them... if she didn't, she would never be heard! She was very clearly the queen of her kingdom, and she was never happier than when the entire family was gathered around the dinner table. She loved to cook for her family; she got very upset if anyone tried to come into the kitchen while she was cooking. She didn't mind having help with the clean up, though!
Grandma was dedicated to her family. She raised four men to adulthood, and nurtured countless grandchildren. She loved her grandchildren, especially the youngest ones. No one could do wrong at Grandma's house; if you were a child, you could pretty much get away with anything. There was a special section in the closet just for me, back when I was the only kid, that was filled with crayons and coloring books and games for me to play. I could get into that closet whenever I felt like it and play with whatever I wanted in there.
Grandma and Grandpa live on a small lake, and I used to go and catch turtles there in the summer. Grandma always provided me with a box to put my newest treasure in, and sometimes would even help me make a wonderful sign for the pet's box. Of course, then my parents would make me let the turtle go before we went home, but we did have some fun as we created it.
Grandma was a very faithful person, devoted to her church and priest. I never saw her without a cross around her neck, a cross that she gave my cousin this Christmas. She took a lot of comfort in her beliefts, and made it a point to involve her Christianity in every aspect of her life. It was how she raised her kids, and how she continued to help raise her grandkids.
Grandma was a dynamic, dedicated family woman, who loved music and loved to laugh. She was a big Neil Diamond fan (we won't hold it against you, Grandma) and played the guitar throughout her life. One of my favorite pictures of her hangs in my parent's dining room. In it, she is probably about twelve. Her hair is done in two braids, in a Heidi-esque style, and she is wearing a jumper with flowers embroided on it. She is holding her guitar in her lap, and she wears a grin that threatens to split her face in two.

This is how I want to remember my grandma.