Apocalypse

I'm pathetic
You know that song-
I realized you guys have never seen me when
Ugh. You know how many different times I've written this post?

So, I'm on wonky meds, I'm flirting with someone, I'm coughing all over my guitar and spending my days watching things like Pitch Perfect and reading books and trying not to let my fever reach boiling status.

The apocalypse is coming because I'm running out of meds and all out of orange juice and will eventually have to go to the market.

How's your day?

Disneyland

Alright, now that we got all those gross feels out of the way, we can talk about the rest of my Disneyland trip, which was thoroughly enjoyable. This was the first year I've seen the new Buena Vista St and Carsland all trussed up in holiday spirit and it was thoroughly enjoyable.

It was packed. The wait times were out of control, so I'm glad we'd all been there before and were okay with taking it easy. I nabbed a sour cream, bacon, and chive potato and shared with my niece which was delicious. We snagged our way onto Haunted Mansion, her favorite, Pirates, where my necklace was commented on, and Thunder Mountain, a fast ride, before we hit the parade and ice cream for the kids. Then it was Astro Blasters, where I got demolished by everyone, including the five year old, so obviously my gun wasn't working. We nipped over to the other park for a few rides and watched World of Color which, as always, was gorgeous.

My first day I totally overdid it by only having a milkshake and cotton candy for dinner, mixed with 98% of my brother's mojito, which he took one sip of and didn't like (in fact, the majority of the trip continued in this fashion before he realized he should just drink beer.) The resulting sugar crash mixed with carrying around my two year old nephew in heels and dancing with him on my hip at the Mad T Party was hilarious/ridiculous as I stood on the bus and had to keep my balance on the way back to the hotel over speed bumps and with abrupt stops.

Alice :D

The second day started off at the Ghirardelli shop, with chocolate filled croissants and a white chocolate mocha :) Healthy? No. Delicious? Yes. After having my picture taken with all my chocolate and being hounded by a very gay lady castmember who wanted a piece of my croissant and also loved my necklace, we were off to Carsland for the day. Thank god we are all funny or we would have been so bored in line for two hours. Some ice cream and cold water later and I've got a kid on my hip eating string cheese between rides like California Screaming and Tower of Terror, and then night fell and I took over as babysitter and went cavorting through Bugsland before making our way back over to the Mad T Party where I had a very nice conversation with Alice, who also liked my necklace, and serenaded us with a great version of No Doubt's "I'm Just a Girl."

The Tweedles

"Dee" and "Dum" then commented on my "hoodlum" nephew and posed with him while a flamingo peckishly photobombed behind. We made our way back over to Tomorrowland for some fun rides where my niece got creeped on by an adult male and my nephew fell in love with Princess Leia, and we watched the fireworks on Main St.




At this point my brother's family was tired, so they left and I stayed behind to enjoy life's little pleasures. A jalepeno-cheese pretzel, single rider lines, the Casey Jr Circus train at night, talking to cast members and getting free things :)

View from the top floor

The next morning I woke up with a sore throat, lounged around in bed, said goodbye to my brother and fam, and then drove home - where I found out yesterday that I have strep throat. Remember all that food/drink I shared?

Oh crap.

Bra Strap Thing

I can always tell when it's December because of the bra strap thing. You know, when your body is changing and your boobs are shrinking and all of the sudden you have to tighten all of your bra straps because they keep falling off your shoulders and it's really annoying? October-January is the time of year when I start losing weight automatically. I don't get much sleep, there's not much time to eat, and I'm running around working overtime at two jobs and stressing out. Packing on the pounds during the holidays has never been an issue for me.

It's also the time of year that people take lots of pictures. I'm going to admit, I take lots of pictures of myself and like having my picture taken. I think I'm pretty. I got complimented a lot as a kid and now I'm vain. Sorry, it's a flaw :)

When I was going through my serious bouts of anorexia, I used to keep picture logs (from what I've learned after-the-fact this seems to be fairly common). Instead of weighing myself obsessively, I would take pictures, measuring how small I could whittle my waistline. I have hundreds of these pictures I can't seem to trash.

Size 1/3, unhealthily. Eating less than 300 calories a day. Hips are still huge.

 However, no matter how much weight I lost, the bra strap thing would happen, but my hips never seemed to shrink in proportion.

Hips down to size small/x-small. Unhealthy. X-small pants are loose, sweater falling off shoulders. Arms too thin.

This is me at 108 pounds, a size one, still with some serious hips compared to the rest of me. I don't know what it is about my body, but that's just how it works for me. For an anorexic, it was seriously frustrating.

One year later. Less than 90 lbs. Pile of clothes are because nothing fits. Boobs are nonexistent. Pants are children's size. Sweatshirt is x-small and is far too big. A few months after this, I began eating again.

So, despite all the pictures being taken this holiday season, I have to make the conscious decision to not begin this unhealthy behavior again. It's one thing to lose a little weight because there's hardly time to eat and I'm so active, but it's another to actively seek out anorexic behavior. This is the time of year when my battle gets harder. I will fight.

But man, I still miss fitting into size zero jeans.

Guilt/Killing

While I'm excited that everyone wants to hear about my trip, and I promise I will write about it, this has to come first.

I always joke around with my mother that I don't feel guilt. To some extent, I don't. She feels guilty about all the little things, guilt that she's not at work, guilt that she's not at home, guilt that her husband is dying and she wishes it would happen faster.

Maybe the last one is something I feel and project onto her. But I don't guilty about things like that, don't feel guilty that I don't care if my father lives or dies.

My father has a disease. He stopped taking the medication that doctors prescribed because it wasn't working, and he thought they were trying to kill him (paranoia is a side effect). Now he takes alternative medicine, and it's not helping. He is withering away.

I came home from a perfectly wonderful lunch at a lavish old castle with two fabulous old hens, an aunt, and my cousin (whom I have always considered as a brother codename:ladybug), to find a family visiting with my father. The mother is not ill, but her grown daughter has chronic pain, and her husband has the same illness as my father.

I listen quietly, fiddling with cans and cupboards in the background as he paints the future for this couple. A future where neither of them are in pain, where both can walk, run, jump and play like normal people.

And I feel guilt. I feel guilt as he convinces these people of the impossible. Feel guilt as he sits there in his chair, ashen, withering, and shriveled, and leads this couple to their deaths. In my head, I want to arrest him for murder. For surely, if her husband stops taking his medication he will deteriorate and die.

As I they say their goodbyes, I walk the nice family to their car and pull the husband aside, "The medication works. My father has gone downhill so quickly since he stopped. Try the silver as well, try it, but don't stop the injections so long as you want to live." I can see his eyes darken as he takes in what I say, measures the weight and gravity in his head. He nods and looks at his wife, sitting in the car waiting, when he looks back at me I recognize his wan smile as one I've seen in the mirror too many times, and I know he won't stop the injections. Yet even as I get the mail and walk back into the house, the guilt knots in my stomach, and behind my eyes, I see the lovely husband and wife rot and decay.