Kitten a Go-Go

DanielleLiss.com

You can now find me at DanielleLiss.com.

Miss me?

In the past two days, I have remarked to two women in my life (oddly, both named after animals) that I am trying to figure out where this blog fits in.  What I really mean is that I miss this blog.  I have spent so much time focused on The Frugal Lawyer that this blog doesn't get a whole lotta love.  I never really meant for that to happen.  We haven't drifted apart.  I think I have found ways to morph the content that would normally be meant for this blog onto TFL.  I never meant for TFL to represent my entire life.  That was supposed to be about my financial life.  

This has always been about me.  But for a long time, this blog became overrun by my health.  Honestly, I'm tired of talking about it.  I have fibromyalgia.  I have hypothyroidism.  I am plagued with self-esteem issues due to my weight.  Blah blah blah.  I'm tired of writing about the same things all of the time.  I don't fit into all of these tiny little boxes.

Sort of how I'm starting to feel exhausted writing about my financial life all of the time on TFL.  I'm not going to stop writing on TFL, but perhaps I need to decrease the number of posts per week so that I can get some breathing room and come over here to play now and then.  I miss talking about Glee, or getting on my soapbox about something.  

I miss this blog.  It's been with me since 2004 in some incarnation.  I'm not quite ready to let it go at this point.  

Right at this moment, I want to merge all of my blogs into one and have everything at this one.  I won't do it, but the feeling is there right now.

Confidence

Lately, I've lacked confidence in so many areas.  Other than my typical mood swings, I don't know what is at the root of the problem.  

I spend a lot of the day feeling frazzled.  Not about work.  I'm confident in my abilities at work.  I guess I've finally been practicing for a long enough time to feel comfortable in what I need to do.  But I do feel frazzled in getting everything done in a day.  By the time I get home, it seems like there is so much that I want to accomplish that I simply can't get to.  I've been very burnt out.  I know this happens to everyone.  It doesn't help that my body never wants to cooperate or function properly.  Most of the time, it just wants sleep.  

This is a prelude of sorts.  I talked about this on another venue tonight and I am also going to talk about it here.  Hell, if I wanted to, I could also take it over to TFL, but I don't want that to become a complete catch-all for whatever is on my mind.  

I am taking the obese fashionless manatee thing to new levels lately.  I've lost about three lbs., but I am still at my highest weight ever.  I look horrific.  We were in line at the grocery store last night and my husband said, Wow, Lisa Marie Presley really looks like shit.  The National Enquirer had her pegged at 165 lbs.  Then I thought how much more than that I weigh.  How much worse than that I must look.  How has this happened.

I know that it has partially been my thyroid and the yeast.  But it has also bee sheer laziness.  I don't watch what I eat.  I don't exercise.  I have more or less given in.  I've accepted the pain of fibro and the limitations that it puts on my life.  Even though every doctor I've had says to exercise through the pain.  I gave up at some point.  

I did my Ballet Conditioning DVD on Saturday and I am still sore.  

I need to get into a fitness routine.  But that's just one more thing that I've got to find time for.  One more thing that needs to get added to my schedule.  But this isn't a want.  This is a need.  I look like hell.  I feel like hell.  Changes are a necessity.  

Frustrated.  If I don't make some serious changes soon, I will weigh more than my husband.  Not okay.  

To the Makers of Candisol

Dear Bairn Biologics,

You make a product called Candisol.  I purchased this product after my colonic.  First, I will say, nice job.  I have been through 5 million yeast cleanses (due to my constant need for anti-biotics) and I know when something works or doesn't work.  This is working.  

However, your bottle states very specifically that the product "causes no 'die off' reaction."  I know a lot about the Herxheimer reaction.  I don't know if I am the first person to use it as a verb, but I was all over that.  Herxing is something I'm very familiar with.  You can call it Herxing or die off or whatever you want.  Regardless of its name, I know what it is.  

Your product caused the absolute worst herxing of my life besides valcyte.  Valcyte is crazy strong prescription shit that they gave me to kill the EBV.  You are an OTC supplement that claims not to cause "die off."  I am sorry, but I'm calling bullshit.

Your product kicked my ass for most of last week.  My assistant agreed that I was a zombie one day at work.  I left and was home by six and then I slept for nearly 13 hours.  Just to clue you in, this is not a luxury that young lawyers get.  

Your label is a LIAR.  I'm still taking your product.  I am simply posting this little letter so that people can find one person's opinions.  Perhaps you'll google you and realize that your claim is completely batshit nutters.  Your product certainly does cause die off.  Perhaps your typical consumer is not experienced with die off, but I'm a pro.  

Sincerely, 
Danielle (aka, Professional Herxer and She who is prone to bronchitis)

Elmo: Job Ambitions

Yesterday, I decided that I must become more physically fit.  So I grabbed one of my many fitness DVDs (all purchased on sale from Amazon) and went to work.  This one was Ballet Conditioning.  Portions of the DVD required a chair for balance.  

Elmo, stupidest kitty in all the land, planted his fat ass in the chair and engaged in a variety of activities to keep me motivated while I tried to keep up with the skinny ballet bitch.  

 
 

First, when I put my hand on the chair for balance, he would immediately swat at it and assume we were playing.  When the hand stayed, he upped his game to licking.  (He does not have an ordinary tongue and it was hard to hang on to the damn chair.)  Then, when I still wasn't playing right, he began chewing on my hand.  Do you know how hard it is to keep up with skinny ballet bitch when there is a 14 lbs. hairless white moron hanging onto your hand by his teeth and/or claws?  He eventually grew bored to my non-participation and decided to chase my feet.  

Eventually, he too grew tired from the workout and, instead of going to his snuggie nest on the couch, he sat on the chair.  Elmo did not realize that I had to exercise both sides of my body, so I had to keep moving the chair.  Because Elmo is so dumb, he never realized that each time, he would be moved again, so he would just climb back in the chair, make a cat croissant and try to get some sleep.  But then I'd be there again, moving the chair.  

Of course that means that I want to play again!  What else could it mean.  So back to swatting and biting he went.  Fortunately, the tape wasn't that long, so my torture didn't last forever.  I can't wait to see how he reacts when I do my cardio ballroom workout with Julianne Hough later this week.  

This morning, The Boy was working out and he was doing push ups.  Elmo came into the workout room, climbed onto his back and sat down.  

I think he may be trying to tell us that he wants to be a personal training.

Here's your warning: This is about a colonic. Turn back now.

I'm serious.  I am going to talk about Danielle's First Colonic.  IN DETAIL.  If you aren't ready to deal with this sort of topic, I am giving you ample time to click the back button.  Go away.  Shoo.  Run along. 

I'm now going to insert a large picture of Elmo doing weird things with his face and that's your last chance before we seriously start talking about ass.

 

So here we are.  I am going to assume that you have gotten here because you want to know about the topic that has been disclosed above.  MY FIRST COLONIC.  INVOLVING MY ASS.  INVOLVING A POOP CHUTE. 

I haven't been writing much because life is the same old boring cycle.  I start doing better and I take my anti-fungals and then I get sick and then I try to get better, but then I get sicker, so then I take antibiotics and then I get more yeast in my intestines and then the cycle repeats.  The problem is that the anti-fungals are ripping my system to shreds lately.  Like other side effects that even I don't want to discuss.  So after the pneumonia bronchitis, I decided that I didn't want to do the anti-fungals again.  I figured I do what I do best.  Play unlicensed medical practitioner with one patient - ME.  I researched and researched and decided to go back to the place where I had my last detox foot bath, Cleansing Waters.  (Because I got a tour.) 

I had no intention of telling people what I was doing until I told a couple of friends and discovered that this is something that people are curious about.  One friend asked for pictures.  I refused repeatedly.  Then I agreed to take one.  Here it is.  (Taken by my phone, so I apologize for poor quality.)  This is where the magic happened.  BEFORE it happened.

 
So, what you see here is the water purification system.  It's triple purified.  That's also the fancy pants toilet.  One lays on ones back with a tiny pencil sized tube in one's ass which is shooting water into one's intestines and that is where the magic happens.  Now, see that tiny square to the left of the bed?  That's the poop chute.  Everything that comes out of you goes flying by in a clear chute so that you can look at it.  (Here's the thing, you'll want to.)

I had a lovely colon therapist named Colleen.  I put my gown on and she opened my ass tube in front of me.  She said to always be sure that the CT (colon therapist) opens your ass tube in front of you so that you know it is sterile and new.  Wise words considering the scandal in Vegas with the reused stuff at the Colonoscopy centers that spread hep c.  She asked if I wanted to insert it or her.  Um, her.  Thanks.  No discomfort.  A fine professional. 

BEST PART:
Colleen:  So, how old are you?
Me:  33.
Colleen:  Really?  You're 33?  You don't look 33.
Me:  I love you.

We were off to a good start.  Since she's been doing this for 8 years, she chatted away.  I told her about my yeast issues.  She has gone through similar problems.  We discussed my chronic constipation (sorry folks, but well, it's an issue) and she told me how that's the yeast.  She asked if I was always thirsty and I said yes.  Apparently the yeast is stealing all of my water.  Awesome.  She said that the yeast is why I am an obese manatee.  All super awesome great.  KILL IT AND GET IT OUT, COLLEEN.  KILL THE DAMN YEAST.

The water is not at all painful.  I was concerned that I would have - uh - performance anxiety.  No issues.  Except that we had no real results for about 40 minutes.  It seems that the yeast does like to hold onto things in the intestines.  The clinic uses probiotics in the water, which impressed me a lot.  I was praised for taking a probiotic on a regular basis and I like praise, so that was good. 

Results were eventually achieved.  The poop chute is an interesting contraption.  She said that the yeast was present.  I'll take her word for it. 

One thing to note, dear Colleen was massaging my stomach the whole time to keep things moving. 

I've been asked if it was uncomfortable or painful.  The only time it approached anything close to painful was when I needed to "hold it" so that the water could get deeper into the intestine to KILL THE YEAST.  (This was done typically when the probiotics were in the water.)  This felt like the cramps you get when you are trying to hold an assplosion.  But then it goes away quickly. 

The entire process was easy.  Much easier than I thought it would be.  For folks who are interested in going and don't know how to pick a location, ask whether they are self controlled.  Colleen tells me that this is normal terminology for the industry.  (She also said that she worked at a not self-controlled place and one time the output tube flew out and sprayed all over the room.  Her last day there.)  This is a process that is safe enough for children, if your child is suffering from constipation.  The water lubricates the intestine and helps it to resume normal functionality.  (And unlike an enema, it reaches the entire intestine, not just the first bit.) 

They also sell an anti-yeast supplement.  I bought it.  (It came in a glass bottle.  Yay for the earth.)  I'm not taking another Rx anti-fungal.  I will most likely go back for another in the near future now that I am on the supplement and hopefully we will have better results throughout the hour. 

This was a positive experience.  As always, I have few boundaries when it comes to this sort of thing, so feel free to ask questions if you have them.  I don't mind.  Oh, and it was $75.  The pain and pressure in my stomach already feel better, so I think that is worth it.  I would assume I'd have relief, since I lost three pounds just from that.  I am also not as hungry since then.  Not sure what's going on there.

There you have it.  Danielle's First Colonic.

The Neighborhood Crazy Lady

You know how every neighborhood has a crazy person?  I think I may have accidentally just sealed my fate. 

Here's the thing.  I'm really sick.  I don't think I have bronchitis.  I think it is pneumonia.  There is absolutely no other reason why I should want to remove one portion of my lung with a chef's knife.  It feels like it did when I had pneumonia over the summer.

Here's the other thing.  I'm really bored.  I can't think to do any work at home.  (And I assure you that no client wants me working on their stuff right now in my present state of mind.)  I have Facebooked.  I have tweeted.  I have done every possible thing I can to amuse myself online.  I hate daytime tv.

I wanted the mail.  I weighed my options.  It is sort of drizzling, so I figured no one would be out and about, plus it was 4:40, so most people would still be at work, so I could go unnoticed. 

Accordingly, I went outside wearing the following:  Brian's navy hoodie that says Hawaii.  An old navy moot court tshirt.  No bra, so my boobs are down by my waist.  Black track pants with bright red stripes down the side.  They come to about mid-calf.  Since I've had them FOREVER, the seam is gone on the one side, so strings are probably hanging down my leg.  I can't be bothered to check.  I am wearing gray socks with bright pink and green leopard spots.  To complete the look, I put on a pair of claks that made the socks quite visible. 

When I went outside, I remembered that I don't like getting my glasses wet, so I pulled the hoodie up.  So now I look extra crazy.  I had to walk extra slow because I can't breathe really well.  Of course, three neighbors in the damn cul de sac had to leave their houses while I was on my walk and saw me looking like that.  One of them was loading his vehicle with luggage so he got repeat views. 

Know what I got?  Cooks Illustrated.  Totally worth the trip.  I really hope someone nominates me for What Not to Wear based on this situation.  I believe that self-diagnosed pneumonia can be blamed.

Just for the record, here are my socks.

 

Bronchitis is lame

I have bronchitis for the millionth time due to my lack of respectable immune system.  When I attempt to sleep, I can't exhale properly and it feels like I am choking.  So I am awake.  Here's the more pressing issue:

How in the hell have I taken the following and I am still awake:  1 mg klonipin, 25 mg Celexa, 50 mg Topimax (earlier in the evening); (then at bedtime) 10 mg ambien, 37/2.5 Tramadol, 75 mg Nortriptylene, 1 Tylenol PM and a dose of the good Rx cough syrup. 

And here I am.  Type type typing away.  Coherently. 

Bronchitis, you suck.  I can type, but I cannot speak, lay down or move quickly.  I hate you.  More than Glenn Beck.  So suck it.

Facebook, Bra Colors and Breast Cancer Awareness

If you are on FB, you may have recently posted your bra color as your status update as part of a breast cancer awareness initiative.  You may not have if you are a guy.  Or, like some women, you may have taken some offense to the idea of taking part in the breast cancer awareness activity.

A couple of days after I posted my color (black, it's almost always black), I saw a couple of articles that wrote about the entire campaign with disdain.  The one article that I remember talked about the idea of more breast cancer awareness as offensive because there are so many other types of cancer.  I am certainly aware of this.  I have intense fear of bladder cancer because my father worked at chemical plant for more than thirty years. 

Here's the thing, I'm proud to promote breast cancer awareness.  I'm proud to wear my old Widener Women's Law Caucus tshirt that says Check 'Em Out.  I am not trying to belittle awareness of other cancers or diseases. 

I believe there is a reason to raise awareness of breast cancer.  Breast cancer needs to be in your face.  Breast cancer, if detected early enough, can be a much easier fight than if it is detected later.  If we keep awareness up and in people's faces, people may go home (and I'll admit that I did) and do a self exam that night.  They might talk to their doctor about doing their mammogram.  Awareness leads to detection.  There is no way in hell that I am ever going to stop preaching awareness because there are other types of diseases that don't get an equal voice. 

This is a disease that my maternal grandmother had.  I have ginormous boobs and I had issues that sent me to a breast specialist when I was 19.  You better believe that I'm going be aware, stay aware and promote awareness.  If you don't want to participate in something, that's fine.  Block it out.  (Just like I've blocked Farmville, Mafia Wars, etc.)  It lasted for a day and a half and the Susan Komen Foundation was even moved by the outcome.  There was an impact from something so simple.  Even if it was just me - one woman who went home and remembered to do her self exam that night.  That's the importance of awareness.  

Now, what sort of status update can we come up with to remind women to get a pap smear each year and why it's important?

Elmo

This is the best picture ever of a laser-eyed Christmas cat.