It's been a while. I think all my internal freaking out and whining over the boob burn impeded my ability to express my self externally. So, about that boob burn, it's healing much better than I had imagined, it's smooth and pink, just like newly created skin which has never seen the light before. I no longer have to spread a thick layer of burn cream (like cream cheese on bagel, as per doctor's orders) on it and am only keep it moisturized and obviously, hidden from the sun for the immediate future/entire summer, which for me, just mostly started Wednesday, as Wednesday was Josh's last day of school and I am still living by the school calendar.
I sucked it up and ordered a whole 2 new bras. One of which was a frumpy old stand by which I've been wearing the make/brand of former, and it does a fine job but is wholly boring and a bit too high cut in the middle- not because I like show off the (now burnt) cleavage, but because the inside corners of the underwire actually poke up into my t shirts and one new model. I tried on the new model first and loved it, until I started to move around and realized one side underwire was stabbing the beejeeezus out of my left arm pit. I tucked a cotton pad in it and wore it anyway for a couple of days. I'm hoping (since I already tore the tags off) that somehow washing it will remedy the pokiness of it, but (let's be real) I'll be wearing that one with cotton pads under my left arm. The new old standby version was too tight to put on with all the bandaging (I recall this bra doing a big tension release in the early days) so I was waiting for the end of bandaging and burn cream application to the boob to give that bra another chance to squeeze around me. I also found a not entirely worn out one (as opposed to the completely pathetic 5 year old ones I've been wearing) so, that means I have two new ones, (albeit pokey or tight new ones) and 2 not entirely old ones, so I'm good to go.
I saw something on Facebook about a 100 squat per day 30 day challenge so I have been doing 100 squats every day. The first few days I was mildly sore (used to be way stronger than 100 squats a day back when I lived in stepford) but now I feel like my legs/ass are mostly just tired because I've been squatting very day since the 13th, which would make today my 10th day of squatting in row. My quads are feeling it and my miniature gluteus maximus is feeling it. The first few days I felt like I must have the thighs of a competitive weight lifter those quads were talking so loudly to me, then I quickly realized I wasn't going low enough with my butt, so I went lower and that woke the butt up in a big way. (Cue:embarrassing dream story) So, you know how my dreams are often directly related to something I saw/heard or read during the day? Yesterday I saw a video which I cannot for the life of me remember except for the part where the suited well dressed men turn to walk off camera and the one in the back pats the butt of the one leading them out of the frame. Next thing I know I am having a dream where someone is tapping my own butt except it is not part of a comedy skit and I am having all sorts of consent issue feelings around it but also amazement at how firm and tight my own butt feels. I suspect I was actually patting my own butt in my sleep. That's how real the sensation of dream butt tapping was. I really need to reawaken the gym rat in me.
And, in fabulous news (because I love me some positive reinforcement) I showed my current work to the photo group and it was very well received. Yay! Unfortunately, nobody jumped out of their chair with just the right person to market/sell my work, but the vote of confidence was exactly what the doctor ordered. I taped the conversation, so I'm going to transcribe it, just not tonight because I am pooped. I might have missed something. I was ridiculously nervous in front of the group, which I attribute to this work being so very personal. Somehow I photograph trees and lay my own vulnerabilities bare. One comment, from my grad school friend really gave me the warmest happy feeling when she remarked how I have really come into my own over the years. I respect her opinion. She would never offer an empty compliment. So, I was happy I floated on that happiness cloud the entire next day.
Which felt like a weird thing to do since I am just sick sick sick over the current state of political affairs in the US. I can not believe the cruel and self serving hoax that the real fake news has managed to play on the citizens who will ultimately be hurt the most. Also, the rise of the Nazi party in modern day (Didn't we learn anything in world war 2???) america has me just ready to flee. If I had somewhere to go I'd already be there. I wish we had bought our lake house in Canada and I'd be hiding out trying to convince Canada to keep me. I feel such a sense shame being part of this country right now, and I'm not out there hating anyone or inflicting cruelty on others. People are tearing children away from their parents and then drugging them into submission. How can this be?
Part of me can't believe it is even possible for me to think about anything other than what is happening in this country- how do I go about a normal day when atrocities are happening all around me? I feel powerless, but I'm sure that is what the GOP is counting on. One day I drove past an old woman walking back and forth with a small sandwich board on her front and back pushing her walker across the bridge in this town where people march when they protest. I was thinking that maybe I should march there with my own sandwich board too. Maybe I could start something. Something is better than nothing, right?
Comments