I have a pretty glass water bottle for my desk …..

I am probably the world’s worst eater according to a schedule person.

I seldom have breakfast. I often skip lunch, and if I don’t feel like eating for dinner I don’t.  Food, right now, is not a high priority in my life.  I am not sure why, but I seldom feel an overriding need to eat.

It is more of a “I choose to eat” and often I don’t choose to.  And I can sometimes get past two days and realise I have not eaten anything.  I just forgot.

One would think I would be über skinny.  Sadly no.  I sense that not eating but drinking copious amounts of wine, probably cancels out the low calories on the one hand.

I bounce between feeling super wired and hyped to being so lethargic, I just want to lie down … for a long time.

I hate drinking water.  I drink a lot of Earl Grey tea.  I put ice in my wine, and that counts as water intake.  I often forget to eat.  I often forget to go to the bathroom.

Last night I met with Lizel who is going to become my “better health, better diet” coach.  Bless her, I am not sure she fully understands the uphill journey she has ahead of her with me, but she is very positive.

We chatted about eating and life, and how it impacts your body, and your everyday life.  The realisation that many common illnesses are diet related.  I nodded, and then leaned over to sip my wine.

I am starting on some Herbalife products tomorrow.

I figure worst case scenario I start and if I drink 3 x shakes in place of meals (that I am not eating anyway) at least it is a start.  Gets protein in, and is very little effort, as long as I don’t make a song and dance about it.

The main point for me right now is to find an alternative for food that I can get in, so that at least my body is getting some sustenance, rather than doing this “famine/feast” thing it has got going on.

I have also bought a really pretty glass water bottle and placed it on my desk, with my cheap-arse glass and it is my aim to drink water during the day.  For me that is a bit of a revolutionary behaviour.

I usually don’t drink any water – at all – so the fact that there is a bottle on my desk is already quite an achievement.  I figure to start I just need to finish one bottle a day – 750ml.  If I can do that, then maybe I can graduate to 2 x bottles of 750ml, and we can see where we go from there.

Part of the aim is to lose weight, I’d like to lose about 10 – 12 kilograms.

But I also just want to feel better.  I don’t feel better right now.

I really need to find a way to get some energy back.  My energy levels are all over the show, and probably directly related to my eating habits.  If I can get that down to some sort of “order” then my blood sugar stabilises and logic tells me it will assist with my mood, my energy levels and maybe help me with my depression and anxiety disorder.

I get that a shake = a help for depression is a bit of a stretch. But right now I am willing to give it a whirl.  I am also hoping that my IBS/Spastic Colon gets some support as well.  Lizel has suggested some Aloe stuff to take in the morning.  She promises is it lemon zesty and I will really like it.  I am always pessimistically suspicious, but I am giving it a go.

I promise never to wear a pin badge “Lose Weight Now, Ask me How!”  If I do, I give you permission to take the badge off my shirt, and stab me between the eyes with the pin part.

So that’s my plan. Herbalife.  Water.  Shakes as meal replacements.  Not amending my wine intake at all.

Day 1 is tomorrow, so here we go.

And the hits just keep coming …..

I have a very simple theory to prevent yourself being pummelled to death with a doughnut.  It has worked well for me over the years, and I am about to impart it to you ….. so prepare yourself.

It goes like this: “Never EVER ask if someone is pregnant, or when they are due.  Unless YOU HAVE SEEN a fetal baby scan photo that the person has shown you in the last hour.  Alternatively if you have actually seen a head crowning between that woman’s legs.  I personally think the head crowning is a much safer measure”

Those are the only sure fire indicators that a woman might/may well be pregnant – and unless you see one, either or both of these indicators, NEVER ASK IF SOMEONE IS PREGNANT.

Just don’t.

The problem is if you ask, and the answer is no, well then you are screwed.  There is actually just no way to recover, and that person will hate you FOR.E.VER and E.VE.R!!

Even if they say “no it is okay, I get it all the time” it is not fine, and they will hate you and you are a chop!

I have had a few corkers in my time:-

1.  I was at Tech and first day in a lecture, put up my hand and asked the lecturer when she goes on maternity leave will there be someone filling in for her ….. she then explained to me that she was not pregnant and had a little bloating.

You know that moment when you realise that no matter what you do in a course, you are going to just not do well.

<and since then I have never asked another soul if they are pregnant – that was my moment of learning>

2.  I went to a business dinner with Kennith and some suppliers from the East a few years back – I think it was in 2007.  Dinner was going famously, until one of the guests leaned over and asked me when I was due.

The problem is that I did not quite hear her and had to ask again.  By that point, I had heard her, the entire table had heard her and so too had the parking guard out  in the parking area.   I was mortified!

And really cheesed off.  It was not because I was overweight, it was because of the shirt I chose that was clearly a bit too flowy ….. that must be it ……….that shirt found it’s way to the dustbin pronto.

3.  Kennith’s cousin’s dad also asked me if I was pregnant and I think that was around 2008.  He is a small man and at the time was lying on a low couch watching television – I used the excuse that his perceptive of vanishing points was all wonky, because he was lying down.

Of course I did want to kick him in the nuts as well, but I didn’t – he is sort of loosely family!

4.  Then my latest and greatest was we were in Johannesburg last month and on the Gautrain on our way to the stadium for the U2 concert.  Train was pretty full, and a guy offered me his seat.

I thought nice guy – well he did not offer me his seat as much as he offered to scoot over and sit really close to his mate and make space for me.  I thought it was my charming personality and the slight sway I had in my step from the bottle and a half of wine at lunch.

So I thanked him for his manners and queried why he was kind enough to offer a space to me and not to the other girls on the train ….. he said something about ‘someone in your condition’….and I thought ‘well, yes I have been drinking, but it is not like I have to drive the train…..’ and then the penny dropped.   I think the penny did not drop as much as I heard Kennith giggling …… and then the penny sort of echo’d into the tin that is my brain.

Someone with more principles would have kneed him in the scrotum and stumbled off all offended, but I accepted I had a seat …. and proceeded to really think about my waistline a bit and whether I really should have eaten that full portion of ribs for lunch ……

Anyway, so all in all, I am not exactly riding the wave of good vibes right now ….. I do really think that I am going to have a total sense of humour failure quite soon what with my age and my pregnancy and all.

Not feeling so good …

I have not been feeling well for a few days, it was mainly IBS  (irritable bowl syndrome – or spastic colon or fuck-my-stomach-is-really-sore) related issues.  From about Tuesday night the tempo was definitely stepped up and I really started to feel more crap than bad.

Wednesday was pretty grim, and by Wednesday night I was in agony.  We stopped at an all-night pharmacist and they gave me the usual things that really barely bounce off my symptoms.   I  do think pharmacists should give you schedule 4 or 5 drugs if you have a convincing enough story and lie on their counter, but we can address that in a separate post on another day.

I seldom miss work due to IBS.  It is around so much, that if I stayed off when IBS hit, I would be at home permanently.  So I tend to chew back half a dozen Buscopan and go to work and just focus on getting through the day without screaming at too many people.

I generally lack patience and tact, but when I am in pain, I have been known to be rude to blind crippled children with dyslexia.

My symptoms are usually spasms, of the kind that make you sit up and take notice.  In my case I have to stand, as I can’t actually sit at my desk.  I break out in a slight sweat, and feel really nauseous.  The pain/discomfort increases and it gets to the point where I actually cannot hear what people are saying anymore as I am in so much pain.

My pain is often intensified when people say “Have you got a sore tummy, take an ENO that always make me feel better.” At about that point I start imagining smashing the Eno glass into their face … but again, I seem to have gone off on a tangent.

By Thursday morning I was really out for the count and phoned in sick – I know I may appear to be a lackluster employee, but I rarely take sick days.

I popped off to see a GP.  Who turned out to be really nice and mature – I am so tired of seeing GP’s who look like they are 12 years old and graduated in 1995.  I like my doctors a little old and weathered, and more important who appear to be older than I am – which is getting harder and harder to find as time moves on.

Doctor B was great and did not try to cure the problem, but we discussed my symptoms what has helped over the years, what has not and what today’s problems were.

She gave me some muscle relaxants – gotta love that – though I was hopeful my sphincter did not think the relaxants were for him – and then some pills for intestinal cramping.

What a great combination, especially when taken together and at maximum dose.

Strange how when you look at the recommended dose you always think “well, that is for mere mortals with normal pain, for the pain I am experiencing – which is way off the chart – I need to double if not triple the recommended dose…”  Well, that is how I reason it anyway.

I always figure, what is the worst that can happen – I will just got to sleep for a long time, hardly seems like an undesirable side effect to me.

I would suggest being close to a bed, and not operating any kind of machinery or trying to text at the time of taking said muscle relaxants.

Thursday I lay there like a vegetable, and Friday was not much better – but I did start feeling mildly more human on Friday afternoon.

But strangely for the balance of the weekend I just kept feeling really crap – still crampy, though not throw-you-on-the-floor spasms, but nauseous, heavy, and just totally shite all around.

I was lying in bed on Saturday night whining quietly to Kennith.  Kennith suggested – in a not affectionate/optimistic voice – “is there any way you could be pregnant?”

Now I know that it is scientifically/biologically/religiously/time-space-continuum impossible, but at the same time I recall how I felt when I was last pregnant.  For those first three months and it was pretty much how I felt now – like absolute shite.

Suddenly I was alarmed – and still feeling sick!

Immediately I started worrying – good grief, could you imagine if I am pregnant!!  I am paranoid on the best of days and with the power of suggestion – especially negative suggestion – my mind can pick up on that scenario and run with it.

I had already worked out that I was due in late February/March, it would be a boy.

Kennith and I would practically be divorced then, I would weight at least 30 kilograms more.  Our house would be beyond chaos with too many children and not enough rooms.  I anticipated Pepe resigning because she felt I had pushed her too far.

Work had fired me as I would be so sick during this fourth pregnancy that I would not be at work much, we would be so far into financial trauma that we would be selling off any wedding presents we had received.

I went to scratch in the bathroom cupboard to see if I had an old – unused – pregnancy test lying around.  Sadly no, went back to bed to worry some more.

Sunday stopped at Clicks at Century City – pee’d on a stick – and not suprisingly it was negative.    The emotions one goes through when one is trying to urinate on a stick and not on your hand as you stare at that little line to appear or not to appear is really quite special.

For a moment, I actually thought “gee, what if I am” in a sort of silly smiley way.

The impact of a fourth child now would have killed us, even me a mildly rational person could have seen that.  I am barely coping as is.

Part of me – the sane part – was so relieved to have failed the test, though a very small – actually teeny-tiny-minute part – the unstable part – was a little disappointed, but that part of me likes to fly a little too close to the sun.

Kennith again asked if I would just let him go and have a vasectomy – and again indicated in no uncertain terms that he is OVER HAVING MORE CHILDREN!!  He even added “I AM DONE” with his arms that go up in the air for extra expression.

You know, I understand that.

I don’t accept it, and will continue to badger him some more – but in a subtle way.

He has taken to talking loudly and slowly to me on this issue so that there is no misunderstanding from him to me as to his wishes. But I just ignore him and think he will get on board.  (We can talk later about how I manage to sustain my delusions in the face of all evidence to the contrary.)

I know three children is too much and I often agree that we have bitten off more than we can chew, all this I know, but any way, that was my day.

IBS is a Bitch

I have suffered with IBS for some time and during 2008 it was in full swing with a vengeance.  I am not sure if it was coincidence or whether the hormones during pregnancy added to the problem, but I was really not in the best place with awful bloating and serious cramping.

I could not take Buscopan (there is a big warning on the pack related to pregnant and lactating woman, that scared the bejesus in to you, so you tend to rather just lie in the fetal position and weep)  or anything else and was feeling quite awful.  Kennith suggested I try our chiropractor guy.

I was somewhat apprehensive as I could not see the correlation between IBS and how re-aligning my spine was going to work out my problem for me.

Listen, I am so the skeptic, so trust me if I toddle along to something and it works, then you must realize that it is just short of a miracle, because there is no way it worked because I have good karma or believed in any way!!

I explained my situation to the long suffering Dr. Mark.  He did not actually say that he would be able to “cure” the IBS – which I appreciated – but he seemed confident that he may help with the symptoms.  Sometimes I need to have people who have an optimistic outlook to negate my very pessimistic frame of mind.

I can’t quite explain how sore I was.  If you have not suffered from IBS I realize it is difficult to gauge how uncomfortable it is.  You probably think it is a bad tummy ache.  But generally the symptoms – for me –  are severe bloating – I can add 2 – 3 sizes on my clothes for swelling. I have cramping, often a dull cramp, but combined with sharp persistent cramping.  I usually feel a bit sweaty, like I am in real distress. I start to feel very tired, as my body just want to lie down and rest.  Sitting is sore, standing is sore, everything is sore, and nothing seems to relieve it.  Having this constant pain starts putting me into a very bad mood and my temper gets shorter and shorter.

By the time I got to Dr Mark I was unable to sit in the chair in the waiting room – I had to stand, pace a bit, lean over a chair a bit – take shallow breathes, it really was all a bit sad and pathetic.

I lay on the narrow chiro bed and he applied some pressure to pressure points on my neck, my lower back and behind my knees – no spine popping or anything.  After a bit he said he was all done and I could go and I should come back.  Initially I felt a small bit disappointed that there was not a “halleluja” moment where the heavens opened up, but anyway, clearly I was expecting too much out of this.

I left feeling sore but realized that though I was sore, I was not in excruciating pain.  I was immediately suspicious that I had been duped, but went back for the second appointment about three days later.

Well, bugger believing!!  I am not sure what he did,  but my IBS went away – and it was brilliant. Once the results of the cramping had relaxed and I could start to stand straight and take a proper breath, I definitely felt better.

Bearing in mind that I had not had a symptom free day in more than 4 months, so damn it was like a modern day miracle.  (I am nearly 11 months down the line when I write this and I am still symptom free, so do not poo-poo a chiropractor as a possible solution.)

I think because I knew this would be my last pregnancy I tried to be much more aware and present the whole way through.  So it was wonderful to be able to sit back and start enjoying all the changes going on in my body, rather than being curled up in a ball in the corner sobbing!!

Congratulations …… it’s an Enema

My first pregnancy was pretty uneventful.

At the time you worry about whether you are standing too close to the microwave or have you eaten too many carrots and poisoned your child with excesses of vitamin A.

The things that your mind can worry about are pretty endless.  They tend to be the kind where your little eyes pop open from a peaceful sleep to worry and fret, while your husband/partner/sperm donor snores on peacefully.

Sidebar:  I’ve suffered from IBS in varying degrees for years.  This particular year it seemed to have increased in intensity. I had weeks of swelling and unbelievable cramping.  Eventually I made an appointment at a gastroenterologist.  I was not quite sure what one did – I had to look it up in the Yellow Pages and they had a helpful diagram which pointed to the body part and told me which specialist I would need – very clever marketing.  I was beyond caring and just wanted him to take the pain go away.

While examining me I had to lie on the bed in a fetal position as there was no way I could lie flat with that amount of cramping. He sent me along for the standard (and non-conclusive) blood work and then decided that a barium enema was just the thing to cheer a young girl like me up.

I happily took enough laxatives , ate my body weight in Buscopan and limped along to the x-ray to leave whatever was left of my flagging dignity while a doctor and a nurse shoved what was the equivalent of a garden hose up my bottom – all while trying to make small talk with me.  Me trying to hide my face and just weep quietly into the hospital issue pillow.

After a few more days of lying on the couch in what really was an inert position and moaning or whimpering, Kennith bravely suggested a pregnancy test, and as history can reveal it was positive.

I could not have been more surprised and had been so sick that trying to track my menstrual cycle did not really seem very important at the time.

Generally X-rays and Buscopan are not recommended as part of a diet during the early days of conception, so we had every reason  to be a tad worried.  We had a wonderfully knowledgeable OBGYN who he sent us a long for a few extra fetal assessment scans to put us all at ease.

We saw our little bean bobbing around in the amniotic fluid.  We were so full of smiles and good times that none of us noticed the cataclysmic H-bomb that that little bean had in his back pocket.

I fondly recall hours of lying on the bed on a Saturday afternoon reading my book and dozing off whilst a trail of saliva pooled on the pillow to wake me from my afternoon slumber.

It was all so pleasant, so idyllic, little did I know that there was a shocking awakening approaching …..