No more sugar

Once again I am sugar free. I was this way for a number of years, but vet school stress had me sailing off the wagon like a parched fool in the desert drawn to an oasis. All the free cookies and candy... the sweet siren song of sugar, from all sides... the lure of free cheap energy... the sweet wonder of chocolate goodies, holidays laced with sweet powder, legal crack, kiddie crack...

It's so bad for me, so so bad. Years ago I was hooked and was jumping buggered nuts from the hypoglycemia it caused. I was a complete psycho to my boyfriends, to every situation in life until I was terrified I was certifiably mad or something.
WTF is wrong with me? I'd ask. I just didn't know.
Years later I read Protein Power, which was somewhat on the right track.
I still hit the kiddie crack on a regular basis, but backed it up with protein, thinking I was curing the problem. The crashes still came but they were gentler almost, slower and more predictable; but I still had inexplicable crying jags, bad judgement and bad feelings.

The bad feelings were the worst by far. When you have an emotion and you can't identify where it comes from, you want to label it just so you know you aren't completely bonkers. So often my boyfriends would take the blame (bastards!) Only they didn't know, as I didn't, that sugar is a completely evil poison that knocks out clear thinking and reason. The Twinkie Defense? Maybe there is more to that than we reckoned.

So years after the Protein Power, someone gave me a copy of Sugar Blues. This book saved my sanity. I had already recognized I had hypoglycemia, but hadn't a clue how to handle it. Oh well I thought, I will just have to recognize my crashes and deal with it for the rest of my life. Hey everyone, if I get 'hangry' (hungry + angry) just feed me some cheese, ok? Crappy!!! BUT, I read this book and realized it was a bunch of bunk. The gigantic corporate conglomerate that is our food industry was poisoning me and you on a daily basis, without even our permission. See if I'm wrong! Go for a stroll in the supermarket, and look at the normal things you eat. Ketchup? sugar. Mayo? sugar. Cereal, yogurt, table salt, dried fruit, juice, soups, tomato sauce, you name it and it has sugar.

I did it though. However at the time, I was living in a place that had a lot of access to 'alternative' food stores. There were lots and lots of 'sugar alternatives' that you could experiment. This was fun and handy, but what I ended up doing was trading white crack for the more natural kind, and lots of it. It wasn't any better even if it had a lower glycemic response curve and more fiber! It's still sugar, and I was still hooked.

That was before I fell off the wagon these last 2 years. I got sick last month with all sorts of ailments; UTIs, several in a row (a big clue!), flu which I never ever get, muscle aches, short attention span, crankiness... and on and on... but I wasn't ready yet! Not yet, I thought, as I devoured Christmas, then Valentines, then Easter candy, bag after bag. Please let me stop, I thought, as I just ate this crap because I felt that my life in school was so unhappy that chocolate was the only thing that would take the edge off.

Classic addict behaviour. Classic.
Then, all the sickness happened. This is two weeks ago! I went for a hike on a particularly nice day after feeling crappy for some time. I was sick, depressed, exhausted and unhappy.
In the woods I focused myself and wrote in my journal. I started to feel better, reminding myself who I am and all that I strove for the first time I kicked it. That I used to be a person that wanted a simpler life, something more (I hate this word) wholesome. Meaning, less refined, less processed, less stressed and rushed. Getting back to sugar free, yoga, meditation and art as ways to let off steam.

So it has been about a week and a half. I feel a lot better. My focus is clear, my body feels better, my skin looks better and I look less bloaty somehow. It takes a while to get past the cravings and that sneaky voice in your head that says (only a little... sssss... just a tassssste...) but once you clear it you're good. It was so easy for years to sail past the brightly colored seductive isle in Walgreens, filled with chocolatey holiday cheer! It will be once again, and I am nearly free.

This time I will not go heavy on 'alternative sugars' which still jack up the blood sugar. I will instead use more Stevia (goddamn government and Sugar industry keeping it from being a legit sweetener!!! more on that later). I am concious of eating whole grains, lots of veggies, less dairy and more whole foods in general.
I hope someday our society wakes up and realizes that they are being poisoned. It is in everything. It can't go on! It makes people so sick, and our society has to pay and pay for the resultant diseases... diabetes, obesity (why is everyone so surprised we have this problem? And that people can't control it? I'm not surprised) and so on. Even dementia, social issues, ADD! ADHD is sugar addiction out of control, I should know!
Can that shit, live healthy and long... fight the man! No more sugar!

Donating my hair!

Today is the New Moon, an auspicious time for cutting away the old, the veils, and bringing in the new. I have been growing it out quite long for some time now, and I finally feel ready. I am donating to Locks of Love... those pics of cancer kids, really just kills me!
I threw a party this weekend, and when my lovely magical friends found out what I was doing they surrounded me and blessed the hair... any child who gets this hair gets all the fun magic and juju I have put into it over the years. This hair has been to countless fire circles, dancing, through the woods, to far places... My hope is that some of that is given to the child, to give her hope and confidence and healing. Aaaahhhh!!!
So today is the day. I go in half an hour... oooh, the butterflies. My long blonde hair is an essential part of my identity, something I am used to. Sweeping across my back as I dress in the morning, being part of my image and my fun... it will take some getting used to.
But hey! It's a renewable resource...

Just call me cop charmer...

Been a while since I blogged. Since then I have definitely been pulled over several more times, and not once have I gotten a ticket... I don't want to ruin my luck, but seriously! I am a little proud. It all comes down to politeness, a little dimpling never hurts, and usually I have been speeding to get to the hospital... so telling them I am going to help a possibly dying horse never hurts...
I am shameless, I know it. When I have more time I will post here my adventures. Meanwhile a grueling exam awaits me tomorrow morn, and who am I to deny it?

school is eating my brain cells, one at a time

I swear, as if I wasn't brainially challenged enough before vet school, it's rough having to prove over and over what a ditz I am. Honestly. I've always felt since I was accepted, 'wow, I fooled them, huh? They have no idea what they've just invited in'. And now look. I am completely unable to do even basic math; I get lost in parking lots; I can't remember what day it is most of the time, especially if it's not on my schedule.
Ha! Sounds like old-fart's disease! And I'm not even that old!
I've a story to tell and a test tomorrow... so the story must wait, I'm afraid.

Entourage

This is why it's good to be blonde!
I went to a local alternative/goth/gay club on Fetish night with my lovely open minded man and a few guy friends. I was dressed not to kill but to entrance... red mesh dress, flamenco heels, yummy!! I felt the need to really break loose because school has been killing my spirit and what I feel I am or was...

I brought with me a two foot long black ostrich plume that I would dance with and tease my lovely entourage... a little teasing glance from behind the fluffy plume here and there... not quite a veil, but certainly a lovely experience dancing with it!

My feet began to throb after a few hours of dancing in these lovely torture devices with three inch heels. Beautiful and incredibly impractical, kind of like a miata. I found myself in the midst of a massage at that point, my lovely boy on one shoulder and my favorite hunky dance partner on the other, and a handsome gentleman taking care of the pesky lower back muscles. I felt like I could finally recover and let go of the horrendous tests I have been having lately.
Finally as the dark haired lovely one went to get me a drink, I found myself escorted to a throne like chair; plush red velvet, dark wood detailing, the works. As soon as I was seated, my shoes were removed and my feet found themselves in capable hands. Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!

So there I was, my lovely dark boy on my left holding my drink, my hunky dance partner on my right making meatballs with my feet when up walks a man in a thong and a slave collar.
Does this sound shocking? Perhaps I forgot to mention some details of the club like the amount of flesh covered in vinyl and leather (or perhaps the amount of flesh not covered). As long as your nipples and nethers are covered, you're legal. And I mean only covered; electrical tape is A.O.K. So is mesh. Hmmmm. Anyways, I believe in the sexiness of leaving some things to the imagination (parts of me are still a lady and I like the old method of seduction; leave them wondering...) but I certainly don't mind looking at what other people consider legal, interesting or sexy.

So back to my new slave.

He had asked before if he might have the 'privelege' of serving me, so I told him to get on the floor as I had a spare foot that needed care. So down he went, and took great care in his massage. I was careless in all this, laughing with others who were somewhat drawn to the scene to see what it was all about; at one point I had my dark lovely on one side, my hunky dancer on the other, the slave on the floor and two other male friends standing about my chair; I handed S my plume and said, "please, complete it, if only for a second!" and he obliged by 'fanning' me with my feather. Again, I say aaaaaaahhhhhh...

I have always said that I will someday move to Utah and turn them on their ears by being a woman with a polyandrous family. Why not? A man to take care of the yard, a few more to tend the children, a few to work, and each one to satisfy me how I like. If men can have it why can't I? I could probably do a better job handling it all anyhow.

So there you have it. Why it is good to be a blonde.

Fahk you, you fahkin fahk!

Ahh, today dawned so beautifully, birds singing and grass growing... I even saw the crocus leaves poking their way through the dirty mounds of garbage on the lawn the retreating snows have revealed. Garbage, garbage everywhere, multiplies overnight.
Worcester, dirty old armpit of a sad ghetto white trash town.
So I smile at the sun and head down the walk between the piles of garbage towards the sidewalk.

Is that MY sportsbra on the sidewalk?

Why yes, yes it is. Uh oh.

Well I did give blood yesterday, perhaps when I was bringing in the groceries it got snagged out of my gym bag and dropped on the sidewalk.

Not bloody likely, you are saying this to yourself already.

So I go to the car. I was expecting the worst because I already had the feeling. THAT feeling; someone has violated me YET AGAIN.

Yes. Someone broke into my car. AGAIN. For the second time this month, and also for the second time this month stole really stupid meaningless things. I don't get it. I really don't.
They took my rainbow print gym bag, complete with smelly sneakers, worn out yoga pants and a vet school T-shirt, shorty socks and a CD walkman that doesn't even FAHKIN belong to me!!
Not to mention a cd book with cd's in it, and... my perscription glasses?
Yes. They stole gym clothes and glasses.

WHAT.
THE.
FUCK.

I mean it's not like there is a hot market for used sneakers, is there?

Last time, they smashed my window and stole a leather bag on the floor of the front seat. What was in it? Three other bags. All to donate to a fundraiser. Hahahaha! They missed the stereo and expensive cross country skiis, and the leather jacket... all safely in the house now...
but it was the morning of my grandfather's funeral, and I came out of the house to find glass all over the sidewalk and all over the inside of my fucking car.
Which, I might add, was not all taken out by the replacement glass company and as we speak still lines the floor under the mat and was witness to the SECOND FUCKING TIME I was violated.

I.
HATE.
WORCESTER.

I can't wait to move out and back into the safety of the countryside. These people are animals.
I will shut up before I say more because I am pissed, and justifiably so.
fuck you worcester and your white trash ghetto denizens. You can fahkin keep 'em.
balls.

The short bus

Dr.S from Immunology took pity on us sub-level geniouses and allowed us to have a 'special' study group with him.
He's the nicest man, truly he is; he really truly believes it will help (though he doesn't get the fact that we all understand it and either couldn't understand the language of his questions, or just suck in general at testing. Who knew that over analyzing a multiple choice question would be my downfall?)
So we were embarassed but sticking it out together, as the 'special' kids. We were sitting at a table together, we know who we are now, laughing in that embarassed way that people have when they have done something bad... like farting loudly in the library or something.
Anyway, we were trying to make the best of it, putting ourselves down for the amusement of others.
At one point, it got out of hand; we were all feeling dumb and J.A. said, "Looks like I'm riding the short bus today!"

Now, poor Dr.S, not knowing what was coming, looked genuinely concerned and said,
"Oh! You have bus or train to catch? I will hurry." Nice man, foriegn, not up on the jokes, you know?
We started laughing even more, and he looked confused so I did my best to explain.

"You see, here there are two kinds of buses. There is the long bus, that all the regular normal kids get to take to school. And then there is the short bus. For the 'special' kids. And today, that's us."
He looked confused.
"Special?"
Someone chimes in,
"Yeah, you know, window lickers!"
It goes bonkers at that point.
I started doing that incredibly un-pc thing that we ALL did as kids to make fun of the 'special' kids, you know what I'm talking about because you DID IT TOO or you are lying, you curl up your hand and thwap it against your chest. Someone else pretended to lick windows. Other people were throwing in behavioral suggestions, all for the education of our beloved Dr.S.

He got it.

We settled down and he said,
"Well sometimes I feel that I am driving the short bus."
hahahahahahahha!