Momma Mia, Mea Culpa

* Ya’ll Will Never Know How Much Time I Spend In The Bathroom

Or

* Why Being Totally Self-Conscious, Self Absorbed, Completely Insecure, Which Makes Me Look Like I am Really Superficial, Plus Being Over Worked, Under Paid, Painfully Single, Stressed, Sick And Tired, Is NEVER Super Awesome. Oh, And That Annoying Medical Condition.

Have been the two titles of the SAME damn post that I cannot write because its just all too depressing. And it’s REALLY whiney, REALLY miserable, REALLY boring, and REALLY long.

While writing about all of that for myself (6 drafts and 14 pages) did make me feel better, I don’t know if I can air all of that publicly without spewing my emotions in every direction making this post sound more like

* Blog Vomit

(Yes. Another title.)

I can’t seem to find the words to make the fact that I have a leaky ass amusing. (At least the words “leaky ass” are funny?) I also can’t figure out how to sell “Being Totally Self-Conscious, Self Absorbed, Completely Insecure, Which Makes Me Look Like I am Really Superficial, Plus Being Over Worked, Under Paid, Painfully Single, Stressed, Sick And Tired, And That Annoying Medical Condition” AS Super Awesome.

Anyway.

I could post about how I was already “Totally Self-Conscious, Self Absorbed, Completely Insecure, Which Makes Me Look Like I am Really Superficial” way before I was diagnosed with Crohns disease. And that luckily, I was acclimated with spending a large portion of my time in the bathroom dealing with the unruly state that is my wiry hair. It takes me at least and hour and a half to fight with my own follicles, only to eventually give up and throw it into a ponytail. But I wont get into that.

I could post about how now that I have to take so many medications (18 pills a day) all of which have absurd side effects, from freezing, to depression, to anxiety, to insomnia, to hyperactivity, to exhaustion and the most glorious side effect of all [drum roll] the obscene acne which causes my face to break out into welts. (no matter how “hot” people think my “body” is, when some one is sporting a bad helmet and / or a banged up mug, that pretty much crushes any resemblance to what was once possibly attractiveness.) So now I have to hide behind wearing a mask of spackle that was once my silky pressed powder, and cake on excessive amounts of blistex (due to the dehydration which causes skin cracking) instead of wearing my favorite lip gloss. But I don’t want to get into that either.

I could write about how scary it was taking all those tests, in order to determine weather or not it was Crohns disease. I could tell you about that delicious, thick, white, chalky- glue, beverage they made me drink, that I almost threw up, to make my intestines glow for the xrays. But that’s not funny. At.All.

I could post about how “Being Over Worked, Under Paid, Stressed, Sick And Tired” direct from my job plus the constant worrying so much about the bills only aggravates “That Annoying Medical Condition”. I could tell you the number of times I have been late to work or the number of days I’ve missed due to “That Annoying Medical Condition”, thus sucking up any ‘vacation’ time off from work. Or I could tell you about how upsetting it is to be in the office bathroom and have co-worker walk in on you during an attack. But I am too terrified to do anything about my employment situation [another post entirely] and I will never make enough money. So I wont get in to that.

I could post about how much my disease has affected my family. Like how worried my mother was when my weight plummeted to 103 lbs. How my son would refuse to go to school if I was sick, so that he could stay home and take care of his mommy. Or about all of the days of work my father had to miss driving me around to a million doctors. Or about all of the guilt I feel for being such a burden. But I don’t want to go there.

I could complain for weeks on end, because I can’t eat a hamburger at a barbeque, or a hotdog at a ball game, or ever have beer and pizza on a Friday night. I could cry about having to watch everyone else eat, when my plate usually just looks like this. But, I don’t feel like I have the right to bitch. I mean, jeez, so what if I can’t eat a bunch of food that is probably bad for me anyway. Right? I know that there are people out here with Cancer and AIDS or a slew of other medical conditions that are far worse than Crohns disease will ever be. Who am I to grumble about stomachaches?

I could bring up all of the embarrassing moments this illness causes me on a daily basis, and wonder why “Pocket Fabreeze For Crohns Disease” hasn’t been invented yet.

I could inform my readers (and anyone else out here that is ever in dire need of a rest room facility) That HESS gas stations deserve the highest compliment on the immaculate conditions they maintain for public use. On the other hand I don’t know who this Joyce Kilmer person is, or why there are so many streets and rest stops named after her/him, but that bitch needs to clean up the NJTPK location at exit 8A and right quick.

I could post funny pictures of what it is like when I do work from home during an attack. Because “Ya’ll Will Never Know How Much Time I Spend In The Bathroom”, But I already did that.

So, I will post the back story that prompted the two titles and unpublished posts that are now sitting in my word documents:

Last week, I didn’t even know how much all these issues: Being Totally Self-Conscious, Self Absorbed, Completely Insecure, Which Makes Me Look Like I am Really Superficial, Plus Being Over Worked, Under Paid, Painfully Single, Stressed, Sick And Tired, Is NEVER Super Awesome. Oh, And That Annoying Medical Condition, were bothering me until after I posted this. I was simply making light of the fact I have a medical condition that makes me feel extra icky at times. Making jokes about my health is the way I deal with this particular subject.

After reading my post, Dawn over on Twisted Sister wrote this.

I saw some of it, but after only reading the part about me, I went off half cocked and published my ‘feel sorry for myself’ comment. I immediately wanted to delete it. The Totally Self-Conscious, Self Absorbed, Completely Insecure, Which Makes Me Look Like I am Really Superficial, Painfully Single Meleah came out in full force. I had typed and published my comment without thinking about anything or anyone else at that moment. I didn’t even recognize how beautiful Dawn’s post was about her niece Tanya. I didn’t even realize she was making the point that there are men in this world that will truly love a woman no matter what the circumstances surrounding the woman may be. That post (after reading its entirety) should have lifted my spirits, or given hope to the “Painfully Single” that I too may someday find that guy my own personal ‘Chad’ while on my quest to re-enter the ever-so dreaded dating land. But instead of being inspired, I fell into some funky downward spiral that moved with a speed I didn’t know how to stop.

I did learn a valuable lesson.

[Note to self, don't leave comments on other people's blogs: A) when you have PMS. B) when you have baggage that you don't even know about.]

But instead of writing about all of that, I will leave you with a VIDEO. However MY Gastrointestinal doctors office is not quite like this.

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