Is this thing on?

I wonder if I even remember how to work this thing. Can you guys hear me? Is this thing on? .... Yes? Oh, okay, hi!

Guess what... I'm not dead! I seem to have taken a tumble head first out of the blogosphere, but all is well in my real life world.

I knew at the beginning of this year that something new was on my horizon, I just didn't quite know what it was yet. I felt like I was at a turning point and I had to figure out which way was I was going to turn. As it happens, my life directed me straight into a new thing called coaching. I've never seen myself as a coach. Maybe a cheerleader, but never the one in charge.

However, as I lost so much weight last year, without having surgery or using any fancy pills or fad diets, more and more people started asking me how I did it. I didn't realize how many people were watching the changes in my life until it became clear that whatever I was doing was working and it was working extremely well.

Blah, blah, blah. Fast forward, I was asked to become a coach for Beachbody. That's the parent company of P90X, Hip Hop Abs, and Insanity and a whole bunch of other fitness programs and healthy supplements. It's stuff I believe in and products that I've already seen work. I can work from home on my computer or any time I'm out and about. I chose to become a cheerleader for people who need some help or motivation on their own fitness journey. I was doing it already, but now sometimes I get paid if people decide to try out one of the products that this company sells.

I basically have a semi-job that requires me to workout, be dedicated to fitness and a healthy lifestyle, and play on Facebook. Umm... it sounds like what I was doing already, so it's a perfect fit!

I'm also training for a 10K obstacle/mud run. I'm doing it with my mom, sister, cousin, and a friend. We're all going to wear matching Wonder Woman costumes that include tutus, because everyone needs a great costume for racing and slithering through mud! That's next month, so I've spent the past 3 months trying to learn now to run. I've always been one of those spastic, hand-flapping, lurchy sort of runners on the rare occasions when I found myself attempting to go faster than a slowish walk. I'm not much better now, but I can go further distances and I break for walking segments less often. I expect I'll be ready when the big race comes and I'm really excited about being able to do it with my family. I expect it to be one of the more memorable highlights of my life up to this point. I also expect it won't be the last race I run.

Because a lot of what I do now involves posting in groups online that revolve around weight loss and fitness, I like to be creative with my postings. I take a lot of pictures and I thought I'd share a few of them. I'm still doing yoga weekly and sometimes I even branch out and do my yoga in places outside of the house or studio. Those can be fun moments when I suddenly drop to the ground and pop up into a wheel in a random place while my family rolls their eyes and gets out the camera. Or maybe it's only fun for me. Aw, who cares, I'm having a good time!

Royal Dancer pose

Wheeling with friends is wheely fun.

Angry Bird of Paradise

Once in a while Brooke will join me for some yoga.

We have a weekly Flex Friday pic fest.

These used to be my skinny jeans.

"Mom, don't kick the fan!"

I like to call it Moga.

Pushups while balancing on 4 balls.

Ridiculous costume for the race.

Just discovered I can do a full split again!

My mom and I crack ourselves up.

Flex Friday with legs.

I have no idea what this is.

Stacked plank. Also known as kick Mom in the head.

Cartwheels are fun again.

Ready for a run!

Crane/crow pose

I don't know what this is called, but it felt great on my back.

I'm learning how to do headstands this weekend.

It was my 15th wedding anniversary this week. I love this guy!

I hope you're all doing well! I'd love to catch up with everyone and hear how your lives are going. I'm going to try to make the blog rounds to tell everyone hi. Miss you guys!

might be time for a fanny pack

i've been pondering a question for quite a while now. it perplexes me daily and annoys me often. it makes me furrow my brow and snark into the air at the stupidity of this situation.

what are women's clothing designers thinking when they don't give women pockets?! so many of my clothes (and brooke's) have either no pockets or tiny little snips of pockets that aren't big enough to hold anything but a stick of gum and an earring.

i realize that it probably appears smoother when looking at a woman's silhouette with no pockets, but honestly, i don't give a rip about that. i want to be able to stuff my phone and keys into my pocket rather than always having to carry a purse which i have to zip and unzip constantly to get things that i use often. if i feel the need for smooth lines, i can chose to keep my pockets empty, but i'd really like to be able to make that decision for myself.

i've also discovered that all workout clothes are pocketless. wait, let me take that back and revise it slightly. ALMOST all workout clothes are pocket-free except for the few that have an itty bitty credit card sized slice of a pocket with no form of closure. i wouldn't even trust a single key to stay put in that pocket and my phone certainly won't fit.

how are we supposed to go safely out into the world to exercise when we have no keys, phone, or ID on our bodies? or is it our jobs, as female exercisers, to creatively solve this dilemma ourselves? i've been stuffing my phone and key into my bra, but when i get up any speed jogging, the phone slides around and is at risk of getting sloshy in the sweatiness that is a sports bra. i usually stuff it between two of my bras to keep it from direct skin contact, but that just makes it slide more.

a couple days ago i found a little mesh necklace bag, so i put my key and phone into that and tied the strings into the drawstring of my stretchy pocketless pants. i was rather pleased with myself for my clever solution, but i caught a glimpse of myself walking past a glass door and and it looked like i had a sparkly loin cloth dangling from my groin. not exactly the look i was going for.

i tucked the whole shebang down inside my pants and then felt like a dude with a package. when i jogged i was distracted by it and i felt like i needed a cigarette afterwards. when i slowed to a walk, i almost expected to hear a throaty chuckle coming from my pants, followed by the never-classy "wham, bam, thank you, ma'am."

as much as i resist it, i think the time has come for a fanny pack. dang it.

external shell

i posted a photo collage of pictures that brooke has taken super up close to me. details that she looks at and observes and feels the need to study. she likes small things and details and she has a strange affinity for lines. she doodles lines and even tries to draw lines on everything with her eyes so that all the world is connected. she's got a very artistic eye and observes things differently than most people do.

when she stares at my parts and then takes a picture so i can see why it's so interesting, i've learned not to be offended. not even when it's a picture of one of my least attractive bits. i've learned that brooke doesn't show interest in very many people. she doesn't look at people very much. she prefers toys and animals, so when she shows an interest in me, i'm pleased. when she sees art in life, even if it's on me, it makes me happy.

i posted those pictures on my blog here because i thought it was interesting. i know that some of them didn't paint me in a very pretty light, but they made me happy and they made me laugh and they made me cringe.

what i didn't expect was the reaction that it got when i posted a link on facebook. some of my close friends and family members commented with things along the lines of how brave i was or how i was crazy and that the images were disturbing.

it sort of caught me off guard. i went back and looked at each picture again, trying to see it through someone else's eyes. i guess i can see it. there's that one by my eye that i was told looks like a nipple or a cat butt.

however, i like that you can't tell exactly what some of them are. that some of the pics seem a little bit questionable and odd. i even like the ones that show my stretch marks. brooke says they look like roots and she traces her finger over them and smiles, knowing that's the one part of my body that she created. they're the physical reminder of when i overcame my fight with infertility.

let's be honest here. most women don't see much of other women's bare bodies as we age. once we're past college age, we're generally no longer getting changed in a room with other women or hanging out in our underwear putting our makeup on before heading out for a late night on the town. even if we are in a situation around other bare women, like a locker room at the gym, we're doing our best to go as fast as we can while averting our eyes so as to keep from making anyone uncomfortable. the only time you make eye contact in a situation like that is to give the stink eye to the little boy across from you who's paying way too much attention while you try to wrangle your wet clothes off and your bra back on.

for most of us married ladies and mommies, the only bare bodies we see are our own and the airbrushed ones on magazine covers. if the truth be told, there are very few women over the age of thirty in the real world, who have magazine cover bodies. so as we age and our skin stretches or sags or wrinkles, we don't think about the fact that the same thing is happening to all our friends. we might make jokes about it, but we don't let even our sisters or girlfriends have a look at what the years and babies have done to certain parts of our bodies. we stop going out without makeup because we don't want anyone to see the dark circles or crows feet around our eyes. our shorts get longer to cover the veins that pop out. we stop wearing bikinis even if we're at a healthy weight because our stomachs are wrecked from pregnancies.

i guess what i'm saying is that maybe the reason people were alarmed or disgusted by my pictures was because they never see body parts in public that look like that. their own might look that way too, but they try not to look because it makes them feel unattractive.

i don't think we all need to go out showing off our ugliest parts, but i think it would be good if more women could feel less self conscious about those things.

we are more than our external shells.

before and after

this is a big week for me.

i reached my goal of losing seventy pounds before the end of this year. i had dreams about it for about a week before the scale actually tipped, and i kept imagining my facebook status that i would write when i reached that magical number.

secondly, i finished P90X today. for those of you who are unfamiliar with what that means, P90X is a heavy duty video workout program that includes 12 different workout routines. you rotate them in a particular order for 13 weeks and hopefully you'll be in the best shape of your life when you finish.

you're encouraged to take BEFORE pictures when you first start P90X, which i did. then you can take AFTER pics to help you really see how far you've come. i wish i'd taken some before pics of me when i first started dieting, like they do on "the biggest loser" show, but i never would have wanted to be seen in a sports bra at the size i was.

i've arranged some before and after pics to show my progress.

2003

april 2011 - weight 205

september 2011

april 2012 after losing about 35 lbs

july 2012
i've been doing some leg workouts and i think it's starting to show.

my winter coat isn't going to work if it's big enough for brooke and i to wear together.

might be time for some new pants.

september 2012. current weight 131.

sept 2012

before - june 2012 before starting P90X
after - september 30, 2012 completed P90X
i had already lost 50 lbs in the before picture. i lost 20 more during the 13 weeks of  doing P90X.

june 2012/sept 2012

this one might be my favorite because until yesterday, i never knew my back and shoulders looked like that. i've never been muscley, so this is pretty exciting for me.

people keep asking me "what's next?" now that i've reached my goals. i guess the answer is that i keep on going. i don't want to be big again and i don't want to be unhealthy again. so i'll keep on eating right and making enough healthy choices to keep my weight under control. i'll keep on working out because, dang it's nice to fit into little clothes and be able to do things i'd had to stop doing for the ten years i was fat. maybe i'll do another round of P90X or maybe i'll switch it up and do lots of different styles of workouts. i know i love yoga and weight training now, so there are possibilities for more of that. maybe one of these days i'll learn how to run for more than 20 feet without being chased by anything scary. 

i don't know. i just know that i'm feeling pretty good about things as they are right now and i want the good to keep going.

i'm not invisible

i got married in my early twenties. i was younger than a lot of girls, but i'd dated a lot of different guys and i felt confident that i knew what i was looking for and that i'd found it when i met chris.

before i was married, i felt like a confident, self-sufficient woman of the world who could handle anything that came my way. i had a lot to say and an opinion about most subjects, which i felt free to share any time with anyone.

my husband is very good at holding his tongue and over time, i learned to keep my mouth shut until i'd filtered my thoughts through my brain and decided they were worth spilling out onto the people around me. i think this is a good quality most of the time.

i learned how to delay any real decisions until such time as i had discussed them with chris. he's never been demanding about how i spent time or money, but it seemed reasonable to share those decisions rather than just rashly do whatever i felt like without thought to the other half of my partnership.

then i became a mommy. it was what i'd always wanted and i was very happy to have my little girl. my life revolved around brooke and her needs.

over the years, it seems like more and more of my self has vanished as i've dedicated myself to caring for my family. i ate what they liked, i slept when i needed to sleep so that i could best accommodate the lives of my husband and kid. i go where they want to go and watch what they like to watch.

as a larger woman, i've dressed in a way that would blend in to the background and i didn't do anything to draw attention to myself because i didn't want anyone to look at me and think the fat girl was getting out of hand. if i was invisible, no one would notice all the ways i was lacking.

when i think back to the time when i felt most like i knew who i was and was in control of my own life, i picture a big mouthed, hootchie-dressed, smoking girl, with super-high heels. i see long acrylic nails, red lipstick and sleeping til noon.

i like that girl, but those things don't fit me anymore. there has to be a way to rediscover or rebuild myself into a current version that will work for my life and not leaving me feeling like i only exist for the services i perform for others. i want a sense of self-satisfaction that isn't about anyone else, but isn't totally selfish either.

this year has been a time for me to start figuring that out. i still don't know what direction it's going to take, but i'm putting some time and effort into exploring my options. i've made myself more of a priority than i have in many years and it feels good.

maybe eventually i'll figure it out. i don't think the new me looks like either of those girls up above. i think she looks more like this. and she's not invisible.

a cautionary tattoo tale

i've been thinking lately about the many, many foolish choices i made in my early twenties. there was an abundance and i made them all with the reckless abandon that only the young fool does. i had been fairly careful about my choices up to that point in time with only a slight swerve into the fast-moving naughty lane before my twentieth birthday.

i look pretty normal here, don't i?
but underneath that calm exterior lay the makings of a party girl.

but when i turned twenty, i decided that i was done with the good and i was headed as quick as i could find it, into the bad. i boycotted church and started swearing excessively. i dated men who weren't future husband material and cut and dyed my hair into unacceptable colors and styles.

one of the things i decided i needed to try was body art. i got my belly button pierced and then passed out when i stood up. fortunately, the 18 year old guy who'd clamped and stabbed my navel knew enough to slide me gently down the counter where i'd flopped like a boneless jellyfish and then give me a coke when i woke up.

i got my tongue pierced a few months later, which wasn't particularly smart since it was only a few days before thanksgiving. my tongue swelled up and left me with a lisp that was hard to hide when speaking with people, like my grandma. and i couldn't indulge in anything but cranberry sauce because chewing was pretty much out of the question. i decided to take that piercing out after one night when i was making out with a guy who suddenly pulled away from my face, reached into his mouth and pulled the ball from the top of my tongue barbell off his tongue and handed it to me.

piercings though, are just beginner stuff. they're removable and can be denied once you get tired of them. tattoos though, hold a whole different realm of stupid possibilities. don't get me wrong, i like tattoos a lot. i like the artistic aspect and the way they can mark a significant event in your life.

however, the way i went about getting tattoos wasn't artistic or significant. i decided all of a sudden, to find the name of a tattoo shop in the yellow pages and then go there. i went alone and didn't give any prior thought to what was going to be put permanently on my skin. i picked some flowers out of a book. they were boring and poorly done, but they live on my ankle for anyone to see when the weather is warm.

having a tattoo made me feel like a tough guy. like i was part of the cool kids' club, even though my ink was meaningless and tacky. i decided about a year later to get another one. i was determined to do better on my second round in the tattoo chair and i chose to put it in a location where it wouldn't be visible so often. i picked my lower stomach.

obviously, for a woman, that's a bad choice of body real estate, even if you're young and thin and can't imagine ever having kids. twenty year olds know nothing.

you see that smiling face and belly shirt? yeah, that was me, happy and stupid and about to show off my sneaky stomach tattoo. please disregard the huge beeper in my pocket.

i did my best to clean up these pics so you can make out what that ridiculous mousey looked like when it was fresh and new. you can see how perfectly it fit under my bikini bottom so that it always stayed hidden.

that was fine and dandy for a while, but a few years later, i got pregnant. and once i was pregnant, all hell broke lose with that tattoo. it ceased to be a cute little mousey and instead stretched out into something alarming and grotesque.

i actually got brave enough to take a picture of it tonight. a few months ago, i never would have considered it, but i've lost 48 lbs to date and i can see it now, so i am once again aware of its existence regularly. being thinner though, hasn't helped it to become any less ugly.

as i was taking the pictures, i kept thinking they were blurry. then i realized that the photo was perfectly clear, it's just that now it looks like an underwater sewer rat. or a jacked up elephant.

so let this be a cautionary tale for anyone considering a tattoo. be very careful about the location of your potential ink. if you don't have a good reason and location for it, then forget it and go get something pierced instead.

who's in charge around here?

as a child, i was always in a hurry to be an adult. i was the kid who couldn't get grown fast enough. i didn't mind responsibility. i ate responsibility as a healthy after-school snack! i was babysitting my infant sister when i was ten. i was the one who rushed to wash my hands and hurry to the table when my mom yelled that dinner was ready. i always changed the toilet paper roll without being reminded. i was the kid who, when mom said, "can someone help me with this?" i helped, while my siblings acted like they didn't hear her.

when i was nineteen, i got a job as a nanny for three little kids. my boss trusted me to get them up and ready and out the door for school on time every morning. i potty-trained the youngest one. i did the laundry and cooked food. i grocery shopped for the whole family and had access to the family checkbook where i was free to forge her signature any time there was an expense i needed her to pay.

never once did it even cross my mind to doubt myself. i never questioned whether i was responsible enough to handle the job. i just did it. and for the most part, i did it well.

but when i was twenty-three, i was working in a retail clothing store and i got promoted to assistant manager. suddenly, i was in charge in a store where i'd been working as a sales associate. i had my own set of keys and the combination to the safe. i carried large amounts of money to the bank and opened and closed the store daily.

it was while i was working there that i suddenly started feeling like maybe i wasn't up to the task. i would sometimes look around and wonder who was in charge.

one night, my friend/co-worker was standing behind the register with me and when there were no customers in the store, she whipped up her shirt and showed me her fresh, new boobs she'd just had done. my eyes widened and i started looking around, wondering why the manager on duty was allowing such shenanigans in the store during business hours. then i realized that I was the manager. why was i letting her do that? it was hard to be the one to shut down the fun. to enforce the dress code and to never leave early, even if there was a really good movie playing across the road in five minutes. i didn't necessarily want to deal with the angry customers who wanted to speak to the person in charge. i felt like i was playing charades and i was acting out the role of manager, but my turn was almost up and then someone else would take over.

i had a repeat of that same strange feeling when brooke was born. when i was home with her by myself for the whole day and she was so tiny and vulnerable, i'd sometimes look at her and wonder how i could possibly be trusted to keep her safe. i'd wonder who was in charge around here. where's my supervisor? are there hidden cameras watching to make sure i get things right? when is my mom going to show up and establish some rules around this joint?

sometimes i still wonder where the grown-ups are. because maybe i'm not quite ready to grow up yet. i think i want a popsicle. and a nap.

standing room only clothes

i've had to give entirely too much thought to clothing lately. and i'm finding that i'm not really a fan of clothes. i mean, i don't prefer nudity, but i like to not think about clothes almost at all. if i could wear stretchy pants and a baggy t-shirt and no bra all the time, i'd be quite satisfied with that.

alas, dressing like that looks like crap and makes your body look even blobbier than it already is. as i've been losing weight (36 lbs so far) i've been shrinking out of all my clothes. for a while i could wear belts to compensate, but i'm down two sizes now and i just need new clothes. i've not become any wealthier as i've become skinnier though, so new clothes aren't really in the budget. what's a girl to do? she heads to goodwill. and thankfully there's one fairly close to my house that's filled with the beautiful castoffs of our rich neighbors.

i'm having to remember as i shop that there are different types of clothing. there are standing pants and sitting pants. standing shirts and sitting shirts. there are even standing/sitting bras. the standing pants are the ones that look fine when you're standing up. they feel acceptable, but God forbid you wear them on a day when you're going to spend most of your day seated. those things work like a tourniquet for your waistline and will just about cut you in half, especially if you've eaten recently. they're great though for a day at the mall or a park where you'll be mainly in an upright position and shunning food. these are the pants you want to be photographed wearing.

standing shirts are close fitting and show the outline of your body which emphasizes how you actually do have a waist that dips in between your bust and hips. however, you don't want to be caught sitting down in one of these shirts because, well, because it shows the outline of your body. and when sitting down, everything in your middle condenses, causing things to bulge about in a very unflattering way. it hugs lumps and dispels any possible question as to whether or not you might be pregnant. because pregnant bellies don't have multiple rolls like you do. these shirts are best worn while standing up and with your hands on your hips. sitting shirts are more forgiving and can even be paired with standing pants as long as proper care is taken when seated to make sure that the shirt is flowing outward adequately so as not to get caught in any fat cracks.

bras are another one of those dumb clothing items that have standing/sitting preferences. underwires are better while standing, while something without a wire is better when you'll be seated for most of the hours that you're wearing it. those pesky wires can be quite disagreeable when they're poking you in the ribs or armpit, but they sure do make the girls look young and perky if you're standing up.

i hope there aren't any cameras in the dressing rooms that i frequent because it probably looks like i'm engaged in a game of musical chairs with myself as i try things on. for every item that i slip into, i position myself in front of the mirror and then do a stand up - sit down routine while watching each garment closely to see how it behaves. this is truly a challenge when there's no seat in the changing room. i have to do an imitation sit-down and try to hold myself in that squatty position for long enough to get a good look at how the clothing is hugging my bits. i've got to be careful not to purchase too many of those standing room only garments or i'll never be able to sit down again. or at least not until i lose some more weight and they get re-purposed from standing to sitting clothes.

greasy tow truck man

nine years ago, we lived in a smallish city in north carolina and my husband was working as a youth pastor at a small church. it was the kind of church where it's filled with mostly old people and their families. families who attend because they've always attended and their mom and cousins and grandpa will be there every sunday. there wasn't much of a youth group because most of church's finances seemed to be sunk into their building and maybe the music program (those elderly folks loved their old hymns), rather than the future generations.

as a result, chris had a lot of time during the days when he wasn't doing anything youth related. he cleaned the building, created the bulletin, answered the phones, and went on sick calls with the rotten lead pastor.

on one of those days when he was out riding around with that snide man, i had to run to the bank to make a deposit, but the bank i needed to go to was about an hour away. no problem. i bundled up brooke, glanced at myself in the mirror and decided that i wouldn't be getting out of the car, so there was no need to brush my hair or change out of my pajamas. i slapped on a coat and away we went.

on the way back from our errand, about 45 minutes from home, my car got a flat tire. we were on the highway, but i was able to safely steer over to the shoulder where i proceeded to evaluate my options. it was march, so it was still pretty cold. i was wearing pajamas. i didn't know how to change a tire. i had a baby with me who was too heavy to carry very far in her car seat/carrier. i had no cell phone.

i decided that my best course of action would be to walk to the next exit which, thankfully, wasn't too far ahead. i picked up brooke, glad that i'd dressed her warmly, and started trekking down the highway, carrying a baby, a purse and a diaper bag. in my slippers.

i got to a gas station and found a pay phone inside the building. then i found that i had no coins. there was an ancient phone card in my wallet, so i was able to place a long distance call to my house. no answer. i called the church. no answer. i would NOT call the old pastor's cell phone even though i knew chris was probably with him.

that left me with very few options. i went into the bathroom and cried while sitting on the toilet with my jammie pants on and my baby on my lap. then i gave myself a stern talking to and dried my eyes. i went back out into the store and sat down at the table where you could eat a nasty hot dog or pre-packaged sandwich if you were so inclined. i tried to think of what i should do when a female employee walked over and asked if i needed some help. i explained my predicament and she told me that there was a customer who usually came in around that time every day who drove a tow truck. she was just sure he'd be happy to help me out once he got there.

she walked away and i raced to the phone to try to call my husband again. still no answer. i started praying. praying that the tow truck man would show up soon and also that he wouldn't be a rapist or baby murderer. my stomach was in knots the size of small puppies.

that man did show up before long. he came over and assured me that he'd be glad to help me out. he smiled crookedly from beneath his dirty hat and reached out to shake my hand with his grease stained fingers. i reluctantly shook back and then mentally ruled that hand to be off limits for touching any part of brooke's skin.

he directed us toward his truck. it was a large tow truck, way off the ground and up i climbed with brooke and all our stuff in my arms. i'd never ridden in a vehicle with my baby not strapped into a car seat, but there really was no decent option. so i zipped her into my coat with nothing but her little bald head showing and strapped the seat belt around us both.

he started up the rig and headed out of the parking lot. away from the highway. when i realized that he wasn't driving toward my car, but rather away from it, i gulped hard, trying to wrestle my stomach puppies into some semblance of calm so that i could speak without my voice trembling. i reminded him where my car was and he informed me that he was just going the back way to the previous exit so that he'd come up on my car from the right direction.

i was pretty sure that i was never going to see my husband again. we were driving down country roads in a place where i'd never been with a dirty man i didn't know and i was completely defenseless. what was i thinking getting into that truck? i did a mental inventory of anything i might have with me that could be used as a weapon. my keys were probably my best bet because diapers and breast milk weren't going to be helpful in any conceivable way if it came down to defensive maneuvers.

i held brooke tightly to my chest and kissed her warm, little head. i told her in my mind that i would be willing to die to protect her. and i prayed. the same prayer over and over. "please God, keep us safe. please, God, keep us safe."

the ride probably lasted less than ten minutes, but they may have been the longest ten minutes of my life. we pulled up behind my car and the greasy tow truck man told me to sit tight while he got out and changed my tire for me. when he was finished, he handed me back my keys and helped me down from the cab of his truck. he wouldn't even let me pay him for changing the tire, just tipped his hat and told me to drive safe. then, with a rumble and a chug, he was off down the highway, leaving myself and my snoozing bambino in his fumes on the side of the road.

i got a cell phone after that. and i stopped leaving the house in my pajamas.

chemical peel hag

earlier this week brooke was working on a story for a little school assignment. she decided to write about two hag queens. she had fun writing the story and decided to do a couple illustrations to go with it.

she pulled out a piece of paper to begin drawing, but then paused with a bewildered look on her face. "mommy, i've never drawn anything ugly before. i don't know how. will you sit across from me so i can look at you?"

me, "are you saying i'm an ugly hag?"

brooke, "no. but i only usually draw cute things."

sigh.

here are the story and drawings if you want to see them. she decided they were good enough that they should make it onto her blog.

this happened the day before my chemical peel. now would be a better time, i think, for looking at my face while drawing an ugly hag.

i had no idea what to expect with this chemical peel business. i've seen the sex and the city episode where samantha gets a peel and her face looks all burned and disgusting, but the dermatologist assured me that what i was getting was a different type. i got the vitalize peel.

i got it tuesday morning. it didn't hurt to have it done. but the chemicals that were rubbed all over my face were so strong they took my breath away. three different things were rubbed into my face and the first was just like nail polish remover. it was used to remove any oil so that toxic liquids that were rubbed on next would absorb better. i don't know what the next two things were, but each time, as the substance got close to my nose, i literally could not take a breath for a few seconds and i thought i would choke, but she quickly put a fan up and made that crap dry quickly and as it dried, the choking sensation went away. it was a bit distressing though to be trying to gasp for air, but have my airways were blocked by the fumes.

my face turned a little yellowish when i left the doctor's office, like i had jaundice again, but then it looked mostly normal for the rest of that day and the next.

yesterday though, the third day, i woke up looking like a lizard in a full shed. i put on moisturizer like my paperwork said i could, but that burned like heck for a couple minutes and then all the top layers of skin looked kind of grayish and the new skin underneath that was starting to peek through looked bright pink. twasn't a pretty look.

today it's getting better. more has peeled away so that a lot of my new pink skin is showing now. i feel like a bug that is cracking out of its old shell and shimmying out into the world with my tender new skin showing. i think i should sit tight for a couple days until i firm up again and am less susceptible to predators.

and then when i'm whole again, i'll change my pillow case. because i suspect that it's starting to look like this. but less snake shaped. more face shaped.

day before peel

when the peeling first started. this was right after i moisturized.

all red and tender, but not fully peeled around the outer edges.

three weeks later -
UPDATE/CONCLUSION: it took about two weeks for my face to stop peeling and then feeling rather scaly. it definitely looks better than it did before the peel, but i can still see some of the old acne scars and melasma that it's supposed to be removing. i guess that's why you're supposed to get at least 3 peels to see the full results.