Tag Archives: lifestyle

This is Why We Work

Eric and I have been emailing with the wedding photographer in order to schedule our “Engagement Photo Shoot” (Yes. We know this should have been done months ago. SHUT UP.). We honestly didn’t even really want to do this shoot, as the whole concept doesn’t seem very “us.” But it’s included in the package, and we are unwilling to waste a dime, so we are going to do it– but we want it done OUR way.

So we emailed the photographer requesting that the shoot be of the two of us doing “everyday activities.” She responded saying that sounded like a great idea– and suggested a day at the zoo.

Eric was having none of that shit.

He emailed this back:

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Something’s in there all right

I’m in the elevator and an elderly lady walks in…

Lady (after staring at me for 10 seconds): “Are you pregnant?”
Me: “No. I am not. And honestly, this is the second time this has happened to me in an elevator and I don’t understand why.”
Lady: “It’s the way you’re holding your stomach. Makes it seem like something’s in there.”
Me: “Yeah, there is. Dairy. I’m Jewish.”
Lady: “Ah. Enough said.”

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Things I Can Do Now

Sometimes I get anxious about my new career path– because change, no matter how good and how healthy, is always difficult for me (and, like, everyone on Earth. I know I’m not unique in this. I do think I am slightly more panicked/anxious/dramatic/unable-to-calm-the-fuck-down-y than the average human during a transition, but I recognize that general feelings of discomfort are pretty universal. So if anyone else is out there going through a time of change, feel free to hit me up for some commiseration. Or just try the exercise below. I found it extremely therapeutic, and I think it would make both my therapist and Oprah proud.)

Here’s a nifty list of things I can do now that I am no longer a classroom teacher, just as a reminder that I made the right choice for myself.

  1. Pee
  2. Pee in a bathroom that is a bathroom, not a closet or former jail cell
  3. Breathe without inhaling germs
  4. Breathe (in general)
  5. Go to the doctor
  6. Not go to the doctor, because I’m not sick anymore
  7. Have air conditioning when it’s hot
  8. Have heat when it’s cold
  9. Overall do my work in temperatures humans were meant to exist in
  10. Read the news
  11. Curse
  12. Curse while reading the news
  13. Not eat a packed lunch
  14. Not make a packed lunch
  15. Not make 5 packed lunches at once on Sunday night because the process of packing a lunch is so depressing, I have to do it all in one shot
  16. Cry. In the moment I feel like crying, without having to find the nearest janitors closet.
  17. Raise my voice without fear of abuse charges
  18. Make an important phone call without fear of being caught
  19. Answer an important phone call without fear of being caught
  20. Read/write an important text/email without fear of being caught
  21. Eat a snack without fear of being caught
  22. Drink a hot beverage without fear of being caught
  23. Not fear being caught for doing things all humans need to do to be human
  24. Wake up no earlier than 7:00am, as God intended
  25. Teach the way I want to teach, teach everything I planned to teach, and use my actual personality while teaching, because behavior management is no longer the priority
  26. Be honest, not politically correct, with parents.
  27. Truly know and care about every single child I work with (some classroom teachers are able to do this– I found it impossible)
  28. Be appropriately compensated for the work I do and the effort I put forth
  29. Feel effective
  30. Feel appreciated
  31. Pee (it’s worth repeating)

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Hi Again! Here’s Where I’ve Been.

I’ve gotten many comments about my lack of posting lately. Most of you think it’s because I’m too happy and in love to bother writing anymore. HAH! No.

Yes, I love Eric dearly and yes we are very happy together, but that would never be the reason I stop posting. If I’m writing less, that is usually a bad sign. I write more when my energy is good. I make myself write when my energy is bad, too, because it is definitely therapeutic. But you’ll certainly see more frequent posting when my spirits are up.

SO STOP BLAMING ERIC.

Jk, you can blame him a little, at least for the blog’s decrease in entertainment value. My pre-Eric dating life was more amusing. For you guys, at least. Living it was bona fide hell.

Anyway, back to the point. Here’s where I’ve been:

I have felt like absolute dog shit for the past 5 weeks. No, not depression (wahoo!), but feeling this awful for this long was starting to make me FEEL depressed, which is when I knew I had to make a change. I was blaming the new Paleo diet (for those of you not familiar, Paleo is essentially a whole-foods diet…nothing processed, no added sugar, no dairy, no grains, no legumes). I had started feeling this way about 6 days into the diet (after an initial first week of feeling fabulous), so I was certain that my body was just transitioning from carb-burning to fat-burning for energy, and it was taking a little longer than normal because I’ve been feeding it approximately 16 gallons of sugar-coated garbage per day for the past 34 years and now it’s like WHAT THE FUCK DO I RUN ON NOW!?!? CHRIST.

So I was just giving it some time.

But weeks passed, and I still felt incredibly weak and depleted. I essentially felt as if I possessed no muscle whatsoever. My arms and legs were extremely heavy, and when I walked, I felt like I was going to teeter over. It hurt to hold things in my hands (even my phone. I HAD TO PUT DOWN MY PHONE, GUYS). I was so irritable I wanted to punch everything in sight, which is less than ideal when you work with children.

But I really didn’t want to give up the Paleo diet, because the switch to this lifestyle had instantly cured my two biggest life-long ailments– headaches and stomachaches. So I kept riding it out, certain my strength would return, as well as my ability to not be a fang-toothed fire monster.

It didn’t. I started crying every day because I couldn’t run anymore. I could barely make it up the stairs to my classroom at school. I couldn’t carry a grocery bag.  Social events made me anxious because I didn’t know how I’d feel. I pushed myself to go to a friend’s outdoor-concert birthday party, only to end up crying hysterically to her when I didn’t have enough energy to stay on my feet.

Nobody likes the girl who cries to the birthday girl. I know that’s not even a thing, but I made it a thing, and I think everyone involved can agree it was not a good thing.

So I had a ton of blood work done. Checked all my vitamin levels, thyroid, cholesterol, blood pressure. Everything came back fine. I started to think I was going insane (you know…again).

I googled everything I could find on issues with pervasive weakness. About 3 hours into my google search, as Eric tried to gently pry the computer out of my hands and suggest I do something productive, like stand up or blink, I came across a testimonial from a girl who had very similar issues. They were related to her birth control. Specifically, she started noticing herself fall apart as soon as her pharmacy switched her over to the generic form of her pill.

This had recently happened to me. About 7 weeks prior, my mail-order pharmacy had sent me a 3-pack of the generic form (Levonorgestrel and Ethinyl Estradiol) of my regular birth control (Aviane). I wasn’t thrilled about the switch without notice or approval, but I naively trusted it’d be the same thing, and I’d be fine. Well, you know how the saying goes– “naiveté killed the cat.” (Yeah, I know, it’s “curiosity.” But that doesn’t fit this context and there’s no good quote about naiveté so BACK OFF.)

I immediately googled “Levonorgestrel and Ethinyl Estradiol.” The reviews and patient testimonials were insane. Basically, women switched to this pill and turned into Medusa. One girl swore it caused her divorce, because she became a completely irrational and emotional lunatic. Another used to be a marathon runner and then found she could barely walk (um, hello?!). Another gained 15 pounds in 3 weeks despite going to the gym every day and being in the most active, healthy phase of her life. Another stopped having sex with her husband because the sight of him disgusted her (that sounded more like a life problem than a medication problem, but godspeed to that couple.) Overall, the pill had a user rating of 1 star (for comparison, the name-brand pill I’d been taking had a rating of 4 stars).

“Holy shit. I’ve been poisoning myself,” I thought as I scrolled through testimonials that easily could have been written by me. I had basically been waking up every morning and swallowing a tiny little dragon pill that turned my insides to mush, my pupils red, and my breath to Game-of-Thrones-worthy fire darts.

I stopped taking the pill immediately. Didn’t even ride out the pack like they say you’re supposed to. Just stopped mid-pack and threw the rest in the garbage.

I quit it last Sunday. By Thursday, I was myself again. My body no longer feels heavy. I’ve been running every day. I have my strength back (not 100%, as I haven’t worked out in 5 weeks, but it is infinitely better). I can walk up stairs and not lose my breath. I can laugh again. I don’t hate everything.

Needless to say, Eric is relieved.

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So the point here is four-fold:

  1. Know what’s going into your body.
  2. Know that generic drugs are NOT the exact same as the brand-name. By law they do not have to be. They can be stuffed with fillers and binders that might be EXTREMELY harmful to your body, particularly if you are someone who is hormonally sensitive, as I am.
  3. Pay attention to how your medication affects your mood and energy. If it’s not good then
  4. Go off of it before you murder your significant other.

Number 4 is very important. Because if you murder your significant other, it should be because that’s just who you are as a person, not because a pill made you do it.

You’re welcome.

I’m glad to be back!

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Why I Don’t Go To Clubs

Last night I went to a club.

No, not a country club.

A club where the music is loud, the crowds are abundant and sweaty (me always being the sweatiest) and everyone is super drunk.

Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t even understand what clubs aremuch less go to them. I don’t even like leaving my Upper East Side neighborhood, and on the rare occasion I do make it downtown, it’s to pursue a buzzed-about meal of bacon, or because I fell asleep on the subway and got lost.

But last night I made the exception for a friend’s dad’s birthday party. Yes, you read that correctly. My friend’s dad, David, the coolest 60-year-old on earth, decided to celebrate his birthday by clubbing in New York City. And it just so happens that the only way you’re going to get me to go to a club is if you tell me that a 60-year-old man and all his 60-year-old friends will be at a reserved table with bottle service.

I’m not being sarcastic. That is my ideal club situation.

So I went with bells on, and we had a blast! David is cooler at age 60 than I ever was or ever will be at any point in my life. And his wife doesn’t look a day over 35. (They also happen to be the loveliest people ever, but I feel that is secondary to how fucking great they look). #lifegoals

So we all partied until 3am, when David decided it was time to call it a night, and the rest of us didn’t really see a point in being there without him.

At 4am I went to bed thinking to myself, “Huh, look at me! I totally CAN do this club thing!” and I gave myself a soft little pat on the back as I drifted into a self-satisfied slumber.

At 5am I projectile vomited. EVERYWHERE.

In the bed. Across my nightstand. Onto the wall. All over my iPhone, alarm clock, and various electrical cords. Then again, at 6am, in the toilet.

David woke up this morning feeling great.

 

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(This was the best selfie we managed to take last night. #notgood)

 

 

Paleo Restart 30-Day Challenge, by the Numbers: Day 1

Amount of times I asked Eric “Are we allowed to eat THIS?” while shopping for paleo foods today: 98

Amount of times Eric had to remind me that dairy is not allowed: 98

Amount of times Eric had to remind me that cheese is, in fact, dairy: 98

Amount of times I tried to lick a wedge of Brie: 6

Amount of times Eric pretended to not know me : 7 (6 for the Brie incidents, 1 for when I casually molested a huge ball of mozzarella)

Amount my love for Eric has decreased since he came up with the idea to remove dairy and sugar from my life: 13% (this number constantly fluctuates depending on how many bandanas he’s wearing, so no one panic, Mom.)

Amount of people I’ve wanted to kill today: 2 (down from a normal average of 9. It’ll never be less than 2. I live in New York.)

Amount of stomach aches I’ve had today: 0 (down from a normal average of 3– one per meal)

Amount of headaches I’ve had today: 0 (down from a normal average of 3– one for each time the 4-hour Advil wears off)

Amount of times I’ve been hungry or unsatisfied today: 0 (down from a normal average of always)

Amount of times I’ve been anxious today: 0 (down from an average of 70% of all waking hours, plus about 40% of all sleeping hours. Tidal-wave dreams are no joke, guys.)

Amount of times I’ve been willing to admit to Eric that this might be a really great idea after all: 0 (I’m still me)

Amount of feel-good days that will pass before I will be willing to admit to Eric that this might be a really great idea after all: n/a (I don’t admit things, I simply change the story of what happened)

Amount of credit I will take if we decide that paleo has completely changed our lives and health for the better: 100%

Reasons Eric has for dealing with me: 0 (Really. I don’t understand how he does it.)


“Look! It’s me and you in vegetable form!” –Eric, shopping paleo today. He’s the short, lumpy spud on the left, in case that wasn’t clear. Apparently I carry my weight in my hips img_1179-19

I Don’t Know How to Do the Thing You’re Saying

Partly inspired by a scale that told him he gained 9 pounds in the past week, and partly due to my constant complaints of feeling fat, Eric convinced me to try a “Paleo Restart” 30-day program with him.

Even though he discovered this morning that the scale was wrong (um, obviously. 9 pounds in one week? #science), and despite the fact that I didn’t actually want to DO anything about feeling fat, I just wanted him to respond “That’s crazy, you’re not fat! It’s fine to eat that 9th Hershey Nugget!” (um, obviously. #science) he’s still super into the program. Plus, we already paid the $35 for it. So fine.

I went to sleep last night totally on board to start this weekend, but then this morning had a horrifying realization.

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Oh, yeah. Why didn’t I think of that?

PROBABLY BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE EGG SALAD, MUCH LESS MAKE THE FUCKING MAYO FOR EGG SALAD.

No.

I’m out.

 

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