I have slowly come to the realization that if my body isn’t happy I won’t be either magnetic false mink lashes .
It has been an icky day. I’ve been looking in the mirror and that isn’t healthy for my psyche. It started when my daughter went to the endocrinologist. She had an appointment this morning because she’s starting to display the lovely symptoms that I have. Apparently, this thyroid crapola which includes the Autoimmune Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis (which I will abbreviate to AHT because I hate typing that out for some reason) and hypothyroidism is inherited from the maternal side of the family. Lucky her, huh? Well, lucky me as well because my mother must have had issues with her thyroid. I don’t know much about my medical history so that is the first concrete piece of evidence that I’ve ever had.
Acoix Anyway she got on the scale at the doctors office and flipped out. She’s texting while she’s sitting in the room waiting for the doctor telling me her weight and she feels like she wants to throw up (figuratively, of course)! She hates her hips and thighs. Anything over 125 really depresses her and it was over that number. Let me give you a visual. My daughter has very healthy eating habits. She works out with both strength and cardio routines several times a week. She should be a twig and she’s been struggling with weight gain. I can understand part of my weight gain because of age, inactivity and the thyroid but her? She should be a twig. Then there’s the hair issues. She’s losing magnetic false mink lashes and the ends of her eyebrows. Yep, that’s a sign but I think I’d rather continue with that than the hair loss I’ve got. Funny, I can lose hair on parts of my body……..I have very little hair on my legs and arms……..but do you think that would also apply to my chin? Or to my upper lip?
No. Not only no, but hell no.
Part of the legacy that I’ve passed on are body image issues that plagues most of the female population. We cannot handle imperfections in our body when it comes to dress size. We don’t care if the average size is a 12. Truly, I couldn’t care less. I want to be 115 like I was before. I don’t like the way I look and that influences how I feel about myself. My daughter is the same way. She stands in front of the mirror and places her hands on her hips to shave off a few inches. She wants smart magnetic false mink lashes on her hips and then she’ll be happy.
I hate to tell her that isn’t the case.
The day quickly comes that instead of hands on the hips will progress to hands on her face to see how many years can be shaved off if the turkey neck was gone. The swan-like grace that was once a profile has now become the gobbler. Again, body image and self image are all tied up in this neat little package. For me it’s not an age thing. I don’t mind laugh lines and I don’t mind crows feet. I figure I’ve earned them. I wouldn’t want to look all pulled and tortured trying to look 20 again. I don’t want to look that young, I just don’t want this turkey neck.
So on the age issues let’s add weight, thyroid, back injury, chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia. Sounds like a lovely package, doesn’t it?
I hate that my daughter has to go through this as well. I hate watching her hate her body because I know she got that from me. I hate the fact that watching her set me off too. I hate the fact that I don’t have my life back and I hate constantly hurting. I hate the weather report because more rain is coming. I am just so tired of feeling like garbage. I am so tired of wondering what I’m going to do with my life. I am so tired of mourning for what I had and grieving for what I’ve become. I’m tired of feeling like death warmed over.
I just want a day where I don’t look at the things I need to do in my house and letting another day go by because I just don’t have the energy to get it done. I would like to exercise and walk instead of feeling like I’ve got lead weights on my legs. I’d like to get a hug that was a real one instead of the pretend ones I get because it hurts. I’d like to clean my house without having to stop and rest. I’d like to run the vacuum without hurting. I’d like to know that on the days when my attitude isn’t in the toilet that it would actually mean something to my physical well being. I’d like to look in the mirror and not hate what I see.
My girlfriend has a saying…
Golden years, my ass.
Rosemary Lee has been a Las Vegas real estate broker and new home sales agent for the last 23 years. Recently diagnosed with Fibromyalgia she has worked on support and help with humor for those suffering with this neuroendrocrine immune disorder along with her views on life from her blog magnetic false mink lashes .