Tuesday, December 17, 2013

The #FatChick Celebrates Another Birthday and Discovers Parents Who Use Strollers as Weapons #aging #MyWANA


I'm BAAAAACK!!!

Yesterday was my birthday and the official end of the surprise celebration my hubby planned for me. He took me to Disneyland. That's right. It's one of my favorite places on the planet second only to VEGAS. In fact, Vegas is the Adult Disneyland. It's why I put both locations in my first book For the Love of Quinn

I love all things Disney...except those high tech weapons all parents come armed to the teeth with...strollers.

I'm not talking your average every day carriage for the wee ones. Some of these buggers are three and four seaters and packed with everything you can think of to keep Little Mikey and Janey happy. As all of you know, nothing in that contraption keeps them happy for longer than fifteen minutes unless they're passed out. Usually the little darlin' is screaming his or her head off with chocolate smeared all over their bright red tear stained faces. "I don't want to see the parade! I want to chase Mickey around...NOW!!!"

Of course, the kids are rarely in those things but wandering aimlessly, and slooooowwwwwllllyyyy in front of the line at Small World leaving a HUGE gap. Don't you DARE go around them in line. They were there first, dontcha know and they have every right to take their sweet time moving forward, allowing the child to throw popcorn all over the ground, dump their slushy all over the person behind them in line and screaming that the want another slushy...NOW!

Once you get through the ride and try to make it to the next one, you encounter the dreaded stroller parking areas. These are conveniently placed so that the foot traffic can continue unimpeded around the start and finish of the rides. Of course the stroller owners don't think these areas apply to them and their top of the line double decker stroller. These folks will chain up their wheels to the exit, blocking it so no one can pass or they will just abandon the buggy right in the middle of the path, because they can. Heaven help you if you touch the thing to move it out of your way so you can pass. 

STROLLER POLICE PLEASE TAKE ME AWAY!!!

And they do.  hehehe

There are actual 'stroller police' at Disney. They will move the strollers to the designated areas and even CUT the locks from the ones tied up in the wrong areas. Of course the stroller owners get all pissy and try to call security...can you imagine what happens then? 

Buh bye! hehehe

Now don't get me wrong. I don't think kids or strollers shouldn't be allowed at amusement parks at all. I just think people today don't have the respect for the rules we had when we grew up. I wouldn't dare scream at my parents at the top of my lungs and expect to still be in the park fifteen minutes later. My backside would be bright red, slammed back into the stroller and we'd be halfway back to the car. No ifs, ands or BUTTS about it. hehehe

Now it's a battle of the strollers in these things. You can't even win if you have a wheel chair or scooter/Amigo. There is absolutely zero respect for these things with parents telling their kids to crawl on these items belonging to strangers in order to get better views of parades. Who does that? Apparently the parents of today think it's okay and encourage their children to do this crap.

Great article!


I kid you not. Experienced it myself and let me just say I gave those disrespectful "adults" an earful before security carted them off.  These are the same group of folks who think they can get people to move faster or simply 'out of their way' by shoving their stroller repeatedly into the feet, heels and calves of those in front of them. My left big toe is black and blue because one young father thought he could continue to run me over with the front wheel of his double stroller holding ONE child much too old to be in it. 

After the sixth time he rolled over it, and then glared at me because I stopped him from moving forward, I decided I had enough. I pretended to not know it was his stroller that kept hitting me. Instead I just raised my voice a bit over my normal speaking level and reached for my husband's waistband. "Honey! Some idiot keeps hitting me with a stroller. I think my foot is broken!"

LMAO!!! You should have seen the number of folks turn around to help me. Of course, hubby was holding on to me and moving me along through the crowd as best he could, but the others zeroed in on the offender and walled him off at the bottom of the little hill. All he had to do was wait his turn. We all would make it out together, but no. He had to push and push. 

Disney justice at it's finest!

My hope is one day Disney comes up with "stroller lanes" like we have "bike lanes" on the roads here in California. It won't be a perfect solution, but it may help keep things moving along with fewer injuries. I have to wonder how many kids are actually mowed down by other families or is it only adults who get the stroller war wounds?

Signs up that say "Keep to the right" would also be helpful as will "NO more than 2 strollers abreast."  I know I'm not the only one to hate seeing a line of five or more strollers racing toward me, daring me  to break their line.

In my twenties I wouldn't ever dream of it. In my thirties I fantasized about it. Now in my forties...I'm a brick wall. I freeze and make them go around ME. I'm done being the nice guy and having to walk single file behind my husband because these rude individuals feel they have the right of way because they have little ones. Besides, it's SAFER to just stop and let them go around then to try to move around them. You never can move fast enough and you will get slammed into anyway. Might as well make it worth the bruises!  LOL!

Until next time,
~The Fat Chick aka Tammy

*please note, no child or stroller was harmed during my trip to Disneyland this year. My toe is is badly bruised as are my ankles but that's all the injuries that occurred.*


Tuesday, December 3, 2013

#Patience Is No Longer a Virtue for The #FatChick #aging #MyWANA


Welcome to this week's edition of Memoirs of a Forty Something Fat Chick. This go around I wanted to share an experience I had two days ago that still has me reeling. It's just one more item in the "Why I Should Retire Now" column. 

For those of you who're just joining us, I'm a veterinarian and contemplating retiring at the end of May when my husband retires from the Coast Guard. I've been doing the same job for twenty years now...yep, that's the big Two Oh. I've seen and done a lot of things through the years and have learned a lot. Up until the last few years, I've been able to handle all the stresses that come with this job: long hours for low pay, dealing with terminal illnesses of my patients and the quirks of their owners.

Two days ago I "fired" one of these quirky clients. It's the first time I've ever done that and I'm beside myself—actually mortified is a more apt description. How could I let this woman get under my skin this way and push me over the top?

For over twenty years as a veterinarian, I've been able to do the "keep smiling" and kill them with kindness sort of thing. Or I would just keep silent while they bitch and moan. Usually I can wait them out and when it's my turn, I let them have it with both barrels—in a calm, controlled soft spoken voice.

So what the hell happened this time?



I can't take the bullshit anymore. I'm at a point in my life I have ZERO tolerance for the kind of behavior my now former client put me and my staff through. This woman screamed at one of my receptionists in the morning for over ten minutes and never gave her a lucid answer at to why she called in the first place. She called back and finally said she wanted to leave me a message, but again not a clear cut answer as to what was going on with her cat.

Later in the day, the client arrives with her cat. Immediately after checking in she announces to a lobby full of people and their pets, "I gave Mr. Whiskers the medicine you guys messed up on. You know, the one he needs or he dies."

She of course was exaggerating. At the beginning of November, we didn't order a medication she needed because we couldn't figure out what the heck she was asking for. We finally got it figured out and yet she blamed us. "You guys are just too big a hospital. You don't know what anyone's doing over there. I should just find another vet, but it would take too long to break them in."

My staff of course smiled and took her abuse with grace and dignity while she continued to make an ass out of herself in the lobby. Clearly in a manic phase, she paced all over the lobby until we got a room free to toss her in. She couldn't stay in there and kept walking in and out of it until I walked in.

I checked out "Mr. Whiskers" and only found a small recurrent swelling on his lower lip. She insisted he was in pain and wanted me to tell her why. I explained my exam findings and he'd always responded to pain meds and antibiotics for his lip swelling.

"Well do it! I can't stand him like this. I have so much going on in my life. I can't deal with this. I'm trying to make some real money again and now with him doing this I just can't think."

"Doing what? He's fine. You've caught his lip issue early this time. Please calm down. You're making him upset."

"I think he's having flashbacks because the painters are over and the color is the same as the old house. That's where I had my cancer. I was so sick and had so much chemo..." She paces up and down the room tugging at her hair. 

Now I know I'm in trouble. Once she starts in on talking about her issues, I'll only have a small window to break through and get her to listen to reason. "Okay, let's not focus on your problems. We're here to talk about "Mr. Whiskers." I can't help you with your issues. We've talked about this before."



"I am focusing on him but you don't understand. I just don't ever get a break. It's go go go. I have so much running around in my head. Oh and I put Bactine on the lump on his lip and it got better. He told me with his eyes it got better."

This is where my head began to throb and the room spun. "Don't put Bactine on anything on a cat. We already told you not to do that. It can be very toxic."

She glared at me. "It worked. He's all better."

"Really? Then why did you bring him here to see me?"

"Because he's in pain? Can't you see that?" She jumped up and waved her arms around. "He's having flashbacks. I just know it. He's reliving all the pain I went through during my cancers."




"Focus on him now, please." 

"I AM FOCUSING ON HIM! I don't want a pity party but I just don't every catch a break. I don't want people to pity me."

"THEN STOP! Stop talking about your own issues for one moment and just focus on your cat."

"Well you guys messed up his meds. Of course I'm upset about that and I never got an apology from you today for what I've been through."

This is where she really crossed the line. We did apologize to her repeatedly even though it was actually her own fault. We had no idea what she had called us for from her rambling messages. Instead of arguing with her further on the subject, I switched gears. "I'm sorry you've had to go through—"

"I will not accept a patronizing apology!"

That did it for me. "Let me finish before you interrupt."

"No! You will not patronize me. I've got too much stress."

"That's called LIFE. All of us have stress and deal with it to function and work. I can't help you with your issues but I can help your cats. I'll not apologize to you for something that's been taken care of and apologized for repeatedly."

"You have too many doctors here and have to refer to the record all the time. You should just know what's going on with all of your patients at all times. You don't need any records for that. Why do you all have to get my record to see what meds "Mr. Whiskers" is taking? You should just know! I have too much going on in my life to remember it all. I can barely take care of myself and now he's having flashbacks to my cancer."

"Enough! I'm done. I'll get the meds for your cat and then I will never see you again!" I marched out of the room. My body shook with rage. This woman belittles my staff on a weekly if not daily basis and I simply had enough. Tears filled my eyes from the anger and the embarrassment. I had to scream at her to make her hear me. I've never had to do that before and I've never walked out on a client like that...ever.

My next client heard the entire exchange. He hugged me in the exam room and said I lasted longer than he would have under the circumstances. He made me feel marginally better but my behavior to me was unacceptable. 

Does this mean I'll tolerate less and less as I get older? My birthday is in thirteen days. Will I become an absolute ogre like one of the grumpy old men?



The next day, after a restless and nearly sleepless night, I shuffled in to work where my office manager and medical director told me I had handled it the only way the woman would allow. Nothing else had worked. Since I stood up for myself and the staff, I had nothing to be embarrassed about. Because of this incident, it was her last chance. My manager sat down at his desk and drafted a letter informing the client we'd no longer provide her any veterinary services.

This was more than I had expected. I knew I wasn't going to see her again, but the rest of the doctors and staff no longer wanted to either. My outburst actually saved all of us a more headaches and frustration.

Does that make me feel better? A little more but still I'm upset for letting her push me to explode. I used to be better than that. Okay, maybe I  was just too young and naive to believe that the client isn't always right. I work in a service industry as well as medicine. Dealing with the public is a part of my job, but taking their abuse isn't.

My guess is now I've reached a point in my life where dealing with mean and belligerent clients isn't worth it. I used to enjoy getting up and going to work each day, but now I dread it. Clients like this woman have caused me to be feel this way. They zap my energy to the point I can't relax on my days off.

With my health issues, stress makes them much worse. In fact, stress lead to me developing them in the first place. I had so much going on in my life that work used to be a safe haven for me—a place to escape the sadness that was in my life. I had gone through divorce, betrayal of an old friend and loss of loved ones. Work was my only relief.

Now I'm remarried and incredibly happy. I no longer escape TO work, but FROM it. I don't like that either. I need the balance again. One way or another I'll not let a client get to me like this again. There will be ground rules for our doctor/patient/owner relationship right up front so there's no misunderstandings on either side. 

After all, we're both there together because we are about the same thing—the health and well being of their pet.

So no more! For my own heath and sanity NO MORE. If I'm happy, those around me will be happy so that's my goal for the New Year.



 

Thursday, November 28, 2013

The #FatChick vs Holiday Blues and #Depression #MyWANA


Welcome back to the special edition of Memoirs of a Forty Something Fat Chick. I thought I'd share a post I did back in 2011 for a Black Friday blog hop. I've always had to deal with horrible depression this time of year and it hasn't been until the last few years that I've found ways to get through it. I hope my story helps others out there get through the loss of those special someones during the holidays and the rest of the year as well. ~Tammy


Winter Holiday Blues

Solitude by Idea go /FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Many people go through the blues this time of year due to the weather or the fear of being alone.  For many, the holidays are extremely sad and lonely time even when surrounded by friends and family.  For the last few decades I have suffered from severe depression from the beginning of November until February.  My friends and family have been there for me each time, but the depression still overwhelms me.  It’s not always about making sure you are not alone in a room, but about finding some way to not be lonely in your heart.

            Watching my younger brothers and sisters get married first, become parents and basically have entire lives away from our family, made me feel like an outcast.  It wasn’t easy hiding those feelings.  I didn’t want to bring down anyone else.  Who wants to be known as the fifth wheel or the odd person at the table?  My family was always really supportive of me and I remember one Christmas when my Great Aunt Mary took me aside and said it would be okay if I brought “a friend” over for the family holiday parties.  I was always alone at these functions so my aunt assumed I was gay and not “out” yet.  Imagine her surprise when I said, “Thanks, Aunt Mary.  I’m not gay, just fat.”

            Yep, I was that overweight, extremely shy, smart girl who buried herself in books and classes until I graduated with honors from veterinary school.  It was much easier to hide behind those books and my weight than to admit to someone I was interested, only to have them “let me down easy.”  I was good enough to be their friend, but never a lover or a wife.  My heart really took a dive when I fell for a family friend.  I tried to work up enough nerve to tell him one summer after I lost a hell of a lot of weight.  He was always over our house for parties or just hanging around.  After seeing my transformation, he told me he was proud of me for setting my mind to it.  He already thought I was beautiful, but not my inner light shined for everyone to see.  He was a smooth talker that one!  I was head over heels in love with him and still too shy to confess.

            It was our annual July 4th pool party/barbecue.  Our house and yard was filled with family and friends all day.  I was in major flirt mode and it seemed to be working, but I was kidding myself.  The object of my affection was interested in my cousin, and I was soon forgotten.  I found out later that he knew about my crush, but adored me more as a sister.  That was a bitter pill to swallow for a bit, but his friendship came to mean a lot more to me over the next few years after that party,  More importantly, I came  to love him as a big brother too.

            His name was Paul and I can still hear his bawdy laugh and see his devilish smile.  He was there when my Dad’s Marine reserve unit was activated for Desert Storm.  I was in veterinary school at that time and unable to get away, but Paul was there for my family seeing Dad off at the airport, promising to watch over all of us until Dad came home.
           
            Paul was there when Dad took me back and forth to Michigan State my first year in veterinary school.  Both men wore their University of Michigan sweatshirts each time driving back to “enemy” territory, aka the Michigan State campus.  Sitting between the two of them for a couple of hours trying not to be embarrassed was a chore, but one I would gladly have back again.

            In the wee hours of Thanksgiving 1992, a drunk driver speeding well over 100 mph took Paul away from us. I still cry thinking of that phone call from my Mom telling me he was gone.  At this point I was in my clinical rotations of my senior year in vet school and could not get home for the funeral.  I didn’t get through the grief over losing him for a hell of a long time, and over the years the melancholy during the holidays was all the more raw without him.

            I didn’t think that pain could get any worse until we lost Dad on Thanksgiving Day 2005.  John McInerney was my stepdad in name, but Dad to me.  He was there for all of the growing pains, heartaches and joys.  He was there when I graduated from vet school and moved away to Detroit to work as an emergency vet.  He was there when I thought I had found the man I was going to marry and decided to give up everything in Michigan to move to the unknown…California.

            He was there when that all fell apart and was ready to come out to help me move back home if I needed him.  Dad was there when I decided to make it a go all alone in California for just a little longer, and he didn’t make me feel like I was a failure.  During that time, I met another man who I did marry.  Dad was honored to give up his right to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day in order to be the one to perform our ceremony.   He would joke to his coworkers that he was going to marry his daughter.  That got a few tongues wagging until he told them to get their minds out of the gutter!  He was performing the ceremony since the state of California allowed anyone to be an “officiant for the day” for a small fee of course!

            Dad was the rock of our family, retired Marine Corps sergeant, and computer geek.  He hid his pain for a bit before he had to admit that the Non-Hodgkins  Lymphoma was kicking his ass. Eighteen rounds of chemo and the cancer kept growing.  The doctors promised to get him to Thanksgiving and he held them to it.  Only ten months passed from the time he was diagnosed until he left us, and it’s still a bit raw.

            I lost myself in all of this, buried myself in my work and refused to see what was going on around me.  My marriage was over before it even started but I didn’t want to end it at first.  Dad married us and it seemed like it was disrespecting him to end it even though I was miserable and dying inside.  I had to remember what he always told us growing up.  “Do what you need to do to be happy.  Don’t do what you think other want you to do. That is not your path.  Follow your heart.  It will never steer you wrong.”

So I did.

            Now I have found quite by accident, the one my heart has been searching for all of my life, and every lifetime.  He is my Muse, my life partner and the part of my heart and soul that was missing.  Now the holidays are a time of joy. I’ve rediscovered my Wiccan faith and the happiness fills my life once again.  The holidays are no longer a time where I am depressed and melancholy, but a time to remember those I’ve loved and lost and be thankful for the time we did have together and the lessons I’ve learned from them.  It was Paul who showed me that true friendship never dies.  They are always with you, encouraging you along the way.  It was my Dad who encouraged me to follow all of my dreams wherever they may lead.  Both men would’ve had the biggest kick out of the fact that I’m a published author of erotic romance.  They would have been my biggest fans.  Well, I know for a fact they are “up there” smoking a couple of Cuban cigars, sipping scotch, and smiling down on me. 

            This holiday season, take the time to remember those who have made lasting impressions on your lives whether they have left this world or are still with you.  Light a candle or two for them at sunrise and allow it to burn until sunset.  When you see that light burning bright, smile.  Your loved ones are there with you now and forever.





This was one of Dad's favorite songs. We played it at his funeral at his request.  Every time I hear it, I remember my Dad.  For those of you who have read For the Love of Quinn know that this song plays an important roll in the story.  Quite a bit of my own life ended up in one shape or form in Quinn's story.  Curious? Read for yourself and you tell me!



Tuesday, November 26, 2013

The #FatChick Salutes the Cougar! #aging #MyWANA


Welcome back to this week's edition of Memoirs of a Forty Something Fat Chick. Today I'd like to give homage to the older woman/younger man relationship. That's right. I'm talking about the Cougar!



What exactly is a cougar? 
Basically it's a woman forty years of age or older who exclusively pursues very young men for either just sex or a full relationship. The age difference seems to have to be around ten years or more. Quite a few of these women are pursuing men who are young enough to be their sons.  LOL

As a fellow Cougar myself I can say it's da bomb! I agree there should a minimum of five years between you and your lover. My hubby is eight years younger than I am and treats me like a queen. My ex hubby was only five years younger than me and acting much younger...like a teenager who refused to grow up.

Peter Pan anyone?  Let's just say he's my ex for a reason.

Now the perks of having a young stud for a lover are pretty obvious. Both of you are in your sexual prime. Because they're eager to put a smile on your face, they'll bend over backwards to fulfill all your wildest fantasies. They know if you're happy, they'll want for nothing—both in and out of the bedroom.



Last week I talked about my infertility. Well, another perk of having a younger husband is he wants to have a family and will do everything in his power to make it happen. Whether it's trying fertility treatments, surrogates or good old fashioned adoption, the mate of the Cougar is game.

So all you over forty single women, get yourself a young bit of beefcake and have fun. Who knows? You're little romp in the hay may turn into a lifetime of happily ever after  just like mine.

Speaking of happily ever after...
My forty-seventh birthday is in a few short weeks. My hubby surprised me with reservations to stay at the Grand Californian at Disneyland.  I LOVE everything Disney and for him to save up for this trip to make my birthday extra special just goes to show you our match is really made in heaven. 

While looking for another video to poke fun at being a Cougar, I found this parody video. Hubby and I laughed so hard together and had to watch it a few more times. That's another thing that makes us click...he gets my wacky humor!

~Enjoy!


Tuesday, November 19, 2013

The #FatChick Smashes Her Biological Clock Against the Wall #infertility #aging #MyWANA



Welcome to this week's edition of Memoirs of a Forty Something Fat Chick. Today I'd like to talk about something that many women have to come to grips with in their lives whether they're single or married.

Infertility

Whether it's a problem with conceiving or carrying a child to term, this is one of the most heart wrenching issues a woman and her partner can face. As young girls we dream of the day when we can be The Mom. It's more or less drilled into you that it's a part of life you're expected to take part in. It's expected you'll get married and start popping out babies. Of course you can choose to have a career—as long as it doesn't interfere with giving your parents their grandchildren to spoil.

Next month is my forty-seventh birthday. It's time to face the fact I won't be able to have a child on my own. Biologically speaking it's no longer an option and that hurts more than I can ever express. As a medical professional I know all the reasons why, but as a woman who has always wanted to be a mother it's devastating. Top that off with the callous comments of others about why they "think" I don't have children. 

"Maybe you should have tried sooner than now to get pregnant."

"Now that you have that hot young hubby,it's time to get down to baby making."

"Too bad you threw yourself into school and your career when you were younger..."

"Why don't you want kids?"

"Having kids isn't all that." (from my Mom...LOL!)

"When are you guys going to have one of your own?"

"What do you have against kids?"

What most people around me don't know is that I did get pregnant once and miscarried within the first month. It was devastating then and it still stings today. My ex-husband never went to the doctor to find out if he was part of the problem and refused to consider adoption. He and his family pretty much blamed me for the issue. 

Of course none of them came right out and said it to my face, but the little digs about me being the only one not pregnant around the holidays beat the hell out of my feelings of self worth. Of course they even turned it around to being the reason that marriage failed. It wasn't true and that story is for another day...or maybe it's already been depicted in one of my books. ;)

Fast forward to my new life with my new husband who's eight years younger than I am. I'd love nothing more than to give him a child. I want to see him melt the first time he hears his son or daughter call him "Daddy."  This time around adoption is on the table and I couldn't be happier. 

No longer do I have that biological clock tick tick ticking away. I don't have to feel like a failure as a woman because I haven't given birth to at least one child by now or Goddess forbid be a grandmother at this age. Not that I'm knocking anyone who is, it's just not for me.

Now that both of us are looking toward retirement and partial retirement, we can devote more time to raising a house full of children. We want the minivan to schlep them around to dance class, gymnastics, ball games and the movies. We're looking forward to have little voices join in cheering for our favorite hockey and football teams. 

Growing old together with your soul mate is a wonderful thing. Being able to do it with a team of grandkids at your feet...priceless.

As I move into this new stage I have to share my progress in my journey to better health. As you all know, I've been diagnosed with type II diabetes and high blood pressure. Both brought on by my obesity.  I'm thrilled to report I've lost 20 pounds and feeling great! My diabetes is now more controlled with the dietary changes alone. No more highs and lows. My sugar levels are now just barely elevated.  The best news of all is my blood pressure. I started out at 140/98 and now two months later it's down to 128/84.  It's all working!

Until next time,
~The Fat Chick







Tuesday, November 5, 2013

The #FatChick Asks: When Did the Music I Love Become #Oldies? #MyWANA



Welcome back to my weekly spot on Not Enough Time in the Day. I'm Tammy aka "the Fat Chick."  This is the week I realized I've turned into my mother. Not physically of course, but from the view of my taste in music.

When I was a kid, my mom and dad loved to play "the Oldies." I have to admit I enjoyed them as much as they did. Who didn't love the Beach Boys, anything from Motown, Jan and Dean, Patsy Cline, and the Righteous Brothers? My generation...those of us in our forties now, had the blessing of sharing the music our parents loved.  


Of course as I got older, my tastes in music branched out. I lived through the Disco Era of the 70's, the fabulous 80's including the hair bands, and the music of the 90's including grunge.  All of those bands still resonate with me today and I have them all on my iPod. Don't get me started on my CD collection.  (I'll refrain from telling you about the cassettes I had of SINGLES...LOL)

So tell me, when the hell did MY MUSIC become oldies?

When did Motley Crue, Warrant, Winger, Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, Michael Jackson, Madonna, AC/DC, and Rush all move into that category? I mean besides Michael Jackson, all of these examples are still making music today. You should see the look on some of my younger coworker's faces when I talk about the "early stuff" from these bands and so many more. You would have thought I made their brain implode demonstrating I know all the words to just about every single Def Leppard and Heart song ever released.

Here is another one to blow your mind. Heart teamed up with Jason Bonham on drums to honor one of the greatest bands of all time. And yeah, Led Zeppelin is considered and Oldie band now too. WTH???

Oh wait, it's called "Classic Rock" now on some stations. Talk about making a broad feel real old, really fast. 

The more I thought about it, the more I got riled up. I'm not going out like that and neither is the music I grew up with and still love. Instead of pulling out my rocker and walker, I'm going to keep introducing these youngsters around me to the best damn music EVER recorded. By doing that, I'll help bring more fans to these bands who're still rocking. 

Hell, if The Rolling Stones can get their old, wrinkled selves up on stage and give you over two hours of a mind blowing live show, then maybe being labeled  classic or an oldie isn't so bad.

So join me and raise your flicked Bic for the one and only Aerosmith.  This song resonates with all generations so together we can ROCK ON!!!



 Until next week,
~The Fat Chick

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

The #FatChick Deals With Another #Annoying Witch of #Menopause #MyWANA


Welcome back to my weekly segment detailing my journey to get my over forty life and health back on track. Last week I discussed the lovely ladies, The Seven Witches of Menopause. Today I'd like to introduce you to their mother "Ima Noyd."


When I was younger, Ms. Ima never visited for very long. Sure she'd stop in once every couple months and cast her spell over me. While enchanted by her "charms," every little thing others did around me annoyed the hell out of me, grating on my last nerve. Back then, a few Long Islands—okay, SEVERAL, could get me through it all and I'd be able to move on.

Not. So. Now.

At the stroke of midnight on my fortieth birthday, Ima Noyd started making regular visits. With each passing year, she's stayed longer and longer until now, only 1 1/2 months shy of my forty-seventh birthday, she's taken up permanent residence. 

I'm annoyed by anything and everyone. I don't play favorites. If it's not a client ignoring my recommendations and going to Dr. Google's advice, it's people tagging me in photos on Facebook or spamming my emails, Twitter and other social media with their links to their books. I get they want to get their name and work out there, but it would be nice if some of these folks actually tried to have a conversation with me a time or two before I get hit with commercials.

My husband's work/sleep schedule is the opposite of mine. I end up getting angry at the poor guy for falling asleep within thirty minutes of me getting home from work. It's not his fault he's in the military and has to get up at the crack of dawn to head in to work. It's not his fault I work afternoons and evenings. Good thing is both of us are getting off this crazy train come May/June 2014. RETIREMENT!!! 

I'm annoyed by coworkers who refuse to pick up their share of the workload and then complain when no one will help them out when they're behind. I've spent the last six and half years with some of these folks and they have yet to see they're the problem. Staff meeting after staff meeting we discuss this crap and still nothing changes. These same folks get up and talk about how much they've improved since they've been with us and I just want to vomit.  This sort of thing makes me sad. Why on earth do I have this reaction to people voicing their own opinion?

That of course annoys me too. LOL!

This Mother of All Witches has me so riled up all the time I can't stand myself. I'm sure I'm at the top of everyone's most annoying person list. That's only fair. I'll own that and continue to try to change it. In the meantime...



The top of my annoyance list these days are:

  • people who "like" my pages on Facebook and demand I do it in return
  • people who send me direct/private messages with links to buy their books
  • new authors who've yet to publish anything demanding a professional editor work on their manuscript for free and then have the nerve to say if they like the editor's work, they'll allow them to do the second book. Yeah this one happened to one of my friends. 
  • authors in other genres trying to dictate what is and is not a romance or erotic romance in particular. Same goes for any genre. I would never presume to tell those who write science fiction they're doing it wrong. LOL!
  • people who hijack my social media pages with their own agenda. Do it on your own pages and leave mine alone...unless I invite you to use my space. Then game's on!
  • owners of my furbaby patients who argue with me about veterinary medicine. Just because it's on the Internet doesn't make it fact! 
  • people who come in for their first free exam of their pet, decline all recommendations and then call up at least once a week with a new problem. Of course they don't want to come in for another exam. They want me to diagnose what's wrong with their pet over the phone and to just allow them to pick up medication for it...all at no charge of course. You know, since I took an oath.  WTF-ever! 

Overall, I've realized this is just way too much to be ticked off about 24/7. I have too much going on to waste time on this bunk. It's time to cut it all out and tell Ms. Ima Noyd she's not welcome around here no more!

When someone or something drives me up a wall from now on, I'm going make a concerted effort to just avoid it and concentrate on myself. All the stress from being annoyed all the time isn't doing me any favors when it comes to keeping my blood sugar down. I can't have that. I need to strive to relieve my stress load ASAP!

I'm learning a lot about myself on this get well journey of mine. Stress raises my blood pressure and sends my blood sugar up much higher than it should be with just a simple meal or snack. The more stress I experience, the more tempted I am to start snacking. I don't want to ruin the hard work done and regain any of the pounds I've lost so far. 

So Ima Noyd. You are no longer welcome here! ;)

Until next week, my friends

~Tammy



Tuesday, October 22, 2013

The Seven Witches of #Menopause Fly Through the World of the #FatChick #MyWANA


Welcome back to my weekly feature Memoirs of a Forty Something Fat Chick. I'm Tammy, the Fat Chick in question. I'm using these posts to document my journey to create a leaner, meaner healthier ME. Of course, making fun of myself along the way it the best part. I mean, if you can't laugh at yourself, what's the point?

Last week I talked about peri-menopause and and the bane of every over forty year old woman's existence: the hot flash. Not only does this broad suffer from them, I get the added bonus of having Aunt Flo come at the same time! Oy! 

If that wasn't bad enough, perimenopause and menopause come with yet even more surprises: The Seven Witches of Menopause
Created by AwarenessBeyondArt

Before I move on with the discussion, I want to give credit to the artist who created this computer generated image above. Not only does it accurately depict all the personalities unleashed while my hormones are raging out of control, she's created many more designs that are for sale in her Zazzle Shop. Check it out! When she has this design up and running, I'm getting me several shirts and other bits of swag. :)


Back to the topic at hand...the seven witches. Now with my diabetes and my diuretic for my blood pressure, I've become the Itchy Witch on 'roids. I swear I've gone through more back scratchers than I can count and my hubby has worn his fingers to nubs trying to keep my back itch free. Poor thing. :)



Bitchy Witch. Oh how I love thee! LOL She came out from the first day Aunt Flo started her visits with me and hasn't left since. With each passing year she gets bitchier and bitchier. She's the one I rely on to get me through any situation with her smart ass attitude and sassy comebacks.  Pssst...I'll let you in on a little secret. This Witch pretty much has free reign in my life ALL the time. Bwahahahaha!


Sweaty Witch. Hot flashes rule this poor dear's world whether it's during the day or at night. Tossing and turning, soaked in sweat and then freezing my ass off. Yeah she's a real charmer! I have to stock up on those little portable fans and batteries to keep them running. When I can't take those with me, I'll have to settle for manual labor—snap open one of those fancy little buggers and wave away boys! hehehe





Sleepy Witch. The constant fatigue had been simply wearing me down. That is, until I finally got my butt to the doctor and found out the diabetes was contributing to this too. When my hormones are raging out of control, I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat and then continue to sleep for hours and hours. I'll get up to empty the teeny bladder of mine and then hit the pillow once again for a few more hours. Before I knew it, I was sleeping the day away and then up all night. Not good.  This witch can find her own pillow to crash on. I don't have time for her nonsense!



Bloated Witch. When the hell did I turn into my mother? Before she went through "the change," Ma bloated up three times her size every single time she ate anything...and I mean ANYTHING. I always felt so badly for her as she is this tiny wisp of a thing. As soon as she'd eat, she'd be busting out of her pants. Not a very attractive look, but she dealt with it.  Now it's my turn. Over the last three years it's been happening to me. So not loving this witch!



Forgetful Witch.  I have to say as soon as I turned forty nearly seven years ago I began to have trouble remembering things that happened two days ago and even an hour before, but I can remember every single detail of some part of my life that happened over twenty years ago.  I guess the forgetful one forgets when she's supposed to make my memory full of holes. Go figure. LOL



Psycho Witch. This is the big sister of Bitchy. Once wound up, there's no escaping her wrath. It's best to avoid her at all costs. However, she can be defused with chocolate and anything salty. You'll do yourself and everyone around you if you have a supply of Snickers handy when this Witch roars to life. 



Even with all these fabulous "ladies" keeping me company, I've managed to stick to my meal and exercise plans. Although still over 100, my blood sugar is becoming more regulated and steady instead of wild swings up and down. I've lost a total of sixteen pounds so far and have more energy, less joint pain and a hell of a lot less migraines. No longer am I nearly passing out when I stand up too fast.

All in all I'd say this Fat Chick is on her way to a smokin' hot Curvy Broad!

Until next time my lovelies!
~Tammy

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

The #FatChick Asks: "Who The Heck Turned Up the Heat?" #MyWANA #aging


Welcome back to this week’s edition of Memoirs of the Forty Something Fat Chick. For those of you who’re visiting for the first time, I’m Tammy…The Fat Chick. Each week I share a bit of my journey to get healthy. As an over forty woman, I’ve had to deal with many issues I never dreamed of having to deal with when I was a teenager or in my twenties. What other age group has to deal with bladder control issues, loss of hearing, vision, and hormones raging out of control?


Speaking of hormones, which one of my ancestors pissed off the wrong deity causing me to be cursed with both “Aunt Flo” and hot flashes?  I mean, give me a BREAK! It’s bad enough to have the monthly terror, but to have to suffer with hot flashes too is just beyond cruel.  The political correct term for this “condition” is perimenopause.  To me, it’s the Devil’s Teeter Totter. First you’re hot, then cold. One minute you’re on top of the world, and the next you’re in deep despair. Everything is sunshine and roses, and then it’s all gloom and doom. 





Having had to deal with being teased with menopause for the last TWENTY years…yes, twenty, I’m used to being slammed every month with this chaos, but nothing prepared me for the intensity of the raging inferno that is my body at forty six. I’m a bit scared to find out what’s going to happen when I do actually start full on menopause. At the same time, I look forward to it. I’ll deal with the carrying my own portable fan around as long as “Aunt Flo” is kicked to the curb!


Yesterday, while in full on busy “Dr. Tammy” mode, I was hit with a flash so intense, I nearly blacked out. My skin couldn’t get rid of the heat fast enough and turned a nice cherry red. Lucky for me, the owner of the cute little kittens I was trying to examine recognized what was “attacking” me…besides her fur balls. She’d been through chemo the year before and had suffered from these buggers the entire time. Immediately she grabbed a magazine and started fanning me. Her husband joined in too.  The three of us laughed until I damn near pissed my pants. Gotta love my clients!

Of course it wouldn’t take much laughing to make me lose control of my bladder. Hehehe. That topic has already been covered here in previous weeks so I won’t go into it again today, but it doesn’t mean I won’t talk about it again another time! Bwahahahaha….oh damn it!  Take a moment to talk among yourselves. I’ll be right back. ;)


Now where were we? 

Oh yes, back to the raging furnace that’s awakened in my innards now in my forties. I found a fun video featuring this very subject and it’s the inspiration for the title of my blog post today.  She touches upon all the mess running through my body right now. 







Instead of lamenting the pain in the backside perimenopause has become for me now, I’m going to embrace it and celebrate the roller coaster of hormones zipping through me. What better way to do that then to DANCE!




So there you have it. I have a new dance to help me get through the hot flashes and give me a great cardio workout to boot! 

Speaking of workouts, I’m stepping them up this week. My blood pressure is more under control with my medication and I’m learning exactly what foods I need to eat and in what combinations during the day to help me regulate my diabetes…all without insulin! Now if I can find a fix for that tiny bladder of mine…



Until next week, my fellow flashers!
~Tammy