I am so tired and sore and oof now.
Itinerary/schedule was a bit overwhelming. I warn you, this is long. Just when you think it's over, there's MORE.
Itinerary/schedule:
Thursday: last day of work at old job, 10 am to 8 pm. 8:30-11:00: roller derby practice and PR/production committee meeting.
Friday: spend entire day cleaning house and packing. 4:00: pick
(e:zobar) up from work and drive to Cortland, NY.
8:00 pm: arrive at little sister Fiona's house in Cortland. Play with her 3 cats. Eat a really awful dinner at Applebee's. Then get chased out of Wal-Mart while buying wrapping paper for the wedding gift.
Saturday: Awaken way too early. Try to restrain jitters while sister and sister's surly boyfriend sleep in. (This task is made easier by playing with the three adorable cats.) Finally run out and get breakfast while sister and boyfriend are working their way to consciousness.
9:30 am: Get on the road, an hour later than you'd have liked. Drive to Ithaca. Pick up other little sister, Ann, who has been waiting outside with her toes tapping for a half an hour. (Ann tolerates no nonsense.)
Claim Ann for your car, and get on the road toward Long Island.
10:00-1:00 drive a lot, and be told about hilarious things Ann found on the Internet, and also that she's moving to Chicago in four days. Realize you didn't know that and should probably call your family members more often.
Get off at a rest stop in PA, discover that there are no restrooms at the McDonald's but instead there are giant horrible Port-A-Potties outside. Be glad you're a girl with a bladder like a camel. Decline a drink, and get into Fiona's car because you feel bad that her comatose and surly boyfriend (to give him credit, he's very ill) is her only company for all these hours. Get lost trying to find the highway again. Find the highway by dint of Ann's frantic gesturing and
(e:zobar) 's hairpin turns-- the sign was only visible if you'd already passed the turnoff.
Decide that Pennsylvania's state motto must be "We're Just Fuckin' With Ya".
2:00-3:00 sit in traffic on the George Washington Bridge. Roll the window down and hang your legs out the window in a forlorn, last-minute hope for a tan. Get stared at a lot. Pull your legs back in the window and sit normally. Still get stared at a lot, for no reason. Start flipping people off.
Probably not a good idea.
3:00-4:00 Lose sight of the leading car in the caravan because the Prius has EZPass and you don't. You're the one with the directions so it shouldn't bother you, but you discover that you're very lonely without the dorky little green car. Be sad.
Realize you hate Long Island.
Give up on life.
Stare blankly at the road in despair. We're never going to get there. The wedding is at 6 pm. It's after three now. We'll never make it. We'll die here.
Suddenly pass a dorky little green car with
(e:strip) stickers on it. Honk frantically. Wave.
4:00 miss the turn for the hotel. Do an illegal U-turn. Look back and watch Ann and
(e:zobar) do the same, laughing hysterically. Realize that there was another turn-off for the hotel just ahead, and they had seen it, and had decided to follow your stupid crazy ass anyway.
Walk into the hotel to check in. Notice a big group of people in the lobby standing around. Realize it's a group getting portraits done-- a wedding group, no less. Admire the bridesmaid's beautiful pale skin. Admire the bride's stunning dress. Realize abruptly that they're your cousins. Laugh when you realize they haven't recognized you either. (We've seen these cousins a few times over the last year or so, so it's not like we're out of touch. We just didn't expect to see each other.)
Forget about the long trip as you finally greet all your relations. Run into unexpected people in the hotel elevators and have joyful reunions. Most of us are on the sixth floor, so much running up and down through the hallways ensues, often in less-than-complete clothing. Get your picture taken, by your mom, while in your underwear. Realize you've lost your camera bag somewhere and have no idea what you were thinking when you put the curlers into your hair, as you now have an unusable mass of grossness that used to be your beautiful long hair, and you have no idea what you had intended to do with it. Oops. Well, nobody's here to look at you, they're here for your cousin, so it doesn't really matter. Leave it and get dressed.
5:30 scramble downstairs, barely dressed, hair a mess, and pile into the shuttle to the wedding. Gleefully reunite with immediate family you haven't seen since Christmas. Hear all about your older sister's pregnancy. (The baby is the size of your thumb now. At the last ultrasound s/he was swimming around a lot. We have dubbed him/her The Swimming Peanut.)
5:45 Start to wonder where the shuttle bus is actually taking you.
6:00 REALLY start to wonder where the shuttle bus is actually taking you.
6:05 arrive at the country club where the wedding is. Pile out of the shuttle bus. Shriek a lot and hug people. Get your picture taken a lot.
6:30-7:00 Freeze your gorram ass off outside in the breeze. Admire the beautiful bride. Notice the bridesmaid is shivering. At one point the groom reaches over and rubs the bride's slightly-blue arm. But the weather is beautiful. The groom almost cries while reciting his vows. Be very touched at what a sweet boy he is. (He is.)
Thank the people in the row in front of you for blocking much of the breeze.
Be proud of the fact that you can say that the wacky dude in the full Scottish regalia playing the bagpipes for the processional is your dad.
7:00-8:30 Cocktail Hour! Help the Norwegian cousin's girlfriend (LJ user pushyqueen) decide what cocktails to drink. Eat crazy-good appetizers. Drink a lot. Dad gets bored and goes outside to pace around and play the bagpipes some more.
(e:zobar) gets bored and decides to go follow him and blow bubbles. The entire wedding decides this is the most priceless thing they've ever seen. Many photos ensue.
8:30-10:30 Long wedding reception consisting of many widely-spaced courses of food, a great deal of booze, and a whole lot of dancing and general chicanery. The "kids' table" consisted of all the cousins in our generation on this side, which meant that Terry, 31(?) was the oldest, and Ann, 22, was the youngest, except K, 15, who has been very isolated from the family because Dad's brother married a crazy woman and they adopted her and the crazy woman is paranoid about the rest of the family so poor K really doesn't know us and hadn't even met the Norwegian cousins. We tried our best to include her in everything we did but we didn't really know how, and were so distracted with each other...
Fiona's sullen boyfriend suddenly feels better and starts acting like himself, which is a great relief as when he's himself he's an amusing, charming, articulate guy, and Fiona always is much happier when he's behaving himself.
12:00 collapse into bed, completely comatose.
Sunday 7:30 am: wake up. Detangle hopeless hair. Shower. Help
(e:zobar) shower. (He was dirty. Very dirty.) Go around and see who else is awake. Drink coffee with family. Go downstairs to breakfast. See yet more family you didn't get time to talk to. Wish there was one more day here. Discover that lj-user=pushyqueen's master's thesis was on Internet fanfiction communities and engage in extremely, extremely dorky conversation about it.
10:00 am look at ultrasound photos of The Swimming Peanut. Be unexpectedly touched. Get excited. Then bid farewell to older sister, who is taking the Peanut back to Georgia, where she lives. Be newly charmed by what wacky little old people your parents have unexpectedly morphed into. Sit in the hotel lobby and cry and hug your sisters. Cry and hug your mom. Watch mom cry and hug Ann, who is, oh yeah, graduating from Cornell and moving to Chicago in three days. Oh yeah, Chicago's far and she's the baby of the family and she's going away and growing up now. Sniffle a little.
11:00 pile into the car. Get lost trying to find a gas station. Curse and revile Long Island. Wash the car windows while getting gas, only to realize that you've just made them dirtier. Curse Long Island again. Pile onto the expressway and drive away.
Drive for hours. Hours and hours. Realize you're still too tired of driving to be able to deal AT ALL with driving again. Wish, again, you'd had another day to recover and see everybody. Oh well. Lose sight of Fiona's car, again because of EZpass. Drive for hours, lonely and in despair. Have wonderful conversations with Norwegian cousin and girlfriend. Start to worry that
(e:zobar) should have a break from driving.
Cross the border from New Jersey. Roll down window, shake fist: "God's mercy on you swine!" Be excited for a minute, but then realize that you're in Pennsylvania, and that is
worse.
2:00 pull off at The Crossings, a giant outlet mall in PA (Motto: "We're Just Fucking With You!"). Shop. Shop shop shop! Start to despair, and then suddenly, with Fiona's help, stumble upon a massive cache of
exactly what you were looking for, professional-looking but comfortable work clothes, at Banana Republic, on massively huge sale. (Like I would ever spend $80 on a pair of pants! Hah.) Save so much money you get giddy.
3:30 get on the road again.
4:00 wish you were dead.
5:00 despair that you are not, in fact, dead.
6:00 fall asleep.
7:00 be guilty for sleeping.
8:00 begin to hunt for implement with which to kill self.
8:30 get off the highway. Realize you're in Ithaca. Realize Ithaca is beautiful. Drop the plastic knife and drool out the window.
9:00 GET OUT OF THE GODDAMN FUCKING CAR AT LAST.
Dinner in Ithaca, at some Asian place. Norwegian cousin begins to tell jokes. Die laughing. Discuss poop at great length. Gross out rest of restaurant. Feel bad; leave really good tip.
10:30 have one beer. Fall asleep in Ann's dorm room. Stay there.
Monday Yes! There's more! Notice we were in Ithaca, not Buffalo! You're right, we have MORE DRIVING TO DO!!! Oh BOY!!!
7:00 am: Awaken in terrible pain. Do not want to get up, as there are three other sleep-deprived people in the room and you'd feel bad about waking them. But the pain is bad, and you have to. Realize suddenly, oh joy, it's Your Special Woman Time. Mother
fucker. At least you're prepared.
7:00-9:00 Writhe in horrible pain. Dehydration and exhaustion have made the cramps really bad. Curse the world and yourself and your Woman Bits. Feel really sorry for yourself. Drink water.
9:00 Ann is awake, so you go to the kitchen with her and drink tea, and tea, and tea, in hopes that it will ease the pain and your desire to be dead.
Make waffles. That helps. It helps a lot. Everyone wakes up and things are amusing again.
10:00 go for a walk to the wildflower garden where Ann used to work. Be oddly entranced by the native flora. Eat wild leeks and violas. Be amused as Ann is unable to restrain herself from pulling weeds.
11:00 eat Cornell ice cream. Because it's always time for ice cream.
12:00 go downtown (by car! omg!) and wander around Ithaca. Buy more stuff! Score a sweet shoulder bag that could discreetly fit a laptop and perhaps conceal what a big fucking dork you are behind a sly, professional facade. You hope. Also score a sweet swishy skirt on clearance, and pay way more than you thought you would for a scarf you really wanted anyway.
Delicious shopper's high.
1:00 meet Fiona and her boyfriend, whose good mood has remained and now you can see what she sees in him, for lunch. Viva Taqueria! Have margaritas. Insist on paying for the whole thing. Get your camera back from Fiona (you left it at her house) and feel much better about not being out a grand.
2:00 part ways with Ann. Sniffle a little. Now you have to drive to Chicago if you want to see her. This is what you were always afraid would happen to your family-- that they'd scatter all over the place. Feel sad. But be happy for her, because she's so nervous but it's a good job she's getting. Know she'll be fine. Tell her so.
2-6:00: drive up rte. 89, right along the edge of Cayuga Lake, and go to three wineries. Taste wines, chatter a lot, and buy stuff. Amuse everyone by playing 3-d Tetris to cram everything into the car. Amuse the winery employees by explaining that you can only fit two more bottles of wine into your packed car.
At the last winery (Thirsty Owl, a little north of Ovid NY), take a photo of the car because it's riding so low on its springs you can't believe it actually goes.
For the record, a Prius can hold four people and their luggage, and it won't complain, but it also won't go very fast or stop very quickly.
6:00 part ways from sister Fiona. Drive up to the Thruway. Drive like crazy out to Buffalo.
9:00 order pizza and wings in Buffalo. Eat them. Listen for car horns. Hear none, and realize that the Sabres must have lost. Try not to think about it.
Drink a lot.
Tuesday: No, it's not over. You have the Norwegians now. You have Ambitious Plans of Things To Do With Them.
6:00 wake up. Do things.
7:00 nobody else is awake...
8:00
(e:zobar) gets up and gets ready for work. No other signs of life in house. Until PQ gets up and manages to lock herself in the bathroom. Attempt bravely to rescue her, until she rescues herself with a pair of makeshift pliers made out of scissors. Traumatized, she goes back to bed.
9:00
(e:zobar) goes to work. No other signs of life in house.
10:00 No signs of life.
11:00 Ah. Signs of life. Weather is uncooperative for trip to Falls. Go out to breakfast and then shopping instead. Mm, Kosta's.
4:00 PQ is on verge of hyperventilation from coolness of shopping in US. Take a break. Go get
(e:zobar) from work. Drive home and have a calming dinner at home.
8:30 roller derby practice. Realize you have SO MUCH TO DO for the upcoming bout that you really can't afford the time to go to Mom and Dad's with the Norwegians. Be sad about that. But realize that you really do have commitments and have to honor them, and besides, you have a lot to do around the house.
11:00-1:00 Drink a lot, at home. Amuse one another immensely.
Wednesday
Sleep in. Only, not really. 8:00 am get up with
(e:zobar) and feed him bagels and coffee. Lie around staring blankly at stuff until 9:30. Then feed Norwegians bagels and coffee. Amuse the crap out of yourselves by taking phonetic Norwegian dictation to write postcards to their friends and such. This is a highly entertaining pastime and I recommend it to anyone.
11:00-12:30 A little bit more shopping, then buy lunch to go at Cafe 59 and hie thee to the train station.
Sit and eat lunch while you wait for the train.
The train is late.
The train is later.
2:05: Put Norwegians onto the "1:25" Maple Leaf to Albany. Wave goodbye.
Go home.
Start working on something you'd been meaning to do for days. Forget what it is.
Fall facefirst into bed.
Sleep 45 minutes.
Be awakened by phone. Attempt to speak coherently to your father, who's wondering if you got the Norwegians onto the train and if he's picking them up and what's going on there...
Put phone down. Realize there are miles to go before you sleep.
Go do the dishes.
6:00 pm. J and Redfox come over to work on roller derby press and production stuff. Redfox abducts you to go shopping and pick up food. Catch up on all the Dollies gossip. Catch up on all the league gossip. Get excited about roller derby again. Meanwhile J and
(e:zobar) are amusing the hell out of one another.
12:00 J finally gives up on trying to print business cards, and takes Redfox home. (She passed out on the couch about an hour before.)
Fall asleep. Never wake up.
Until now. Oh man. I have so much to do and I have that kind of depressing let-down of not being so frantically busy but happy anymore. I miss the Norwegians, I wish I was at Mom and Dad's with them, I wish I could be there, but I have a lot to do here and I have to kind of slot myself back into my own life now and remember where I left off...
The BMI system is very flawed for some people. First of all it only goes by height and weight and not by bone thickness or density. If someone my same height as thicker bones then I do and didn't get any taller then me then they will be over weight. The other factor that works in with that is how wide someone is. Again two people can be the same height and the person who has wider shoulders will be overweight. There are some measurements used that are better like percent bodyfat. There are different ways to measure it but it is basicly a percentage of fat to muscle. That is also a better indicator because the lower percentage of body fat then usaly the healthier you are.
Anyone can tell if they are fat or not just look and see if you have a gut and if so then you are fat. That brings up another point some people put all there weight on there and some it is put on other places where it is less visable. Yes extra weight does put extra stress on joints and your body carring the weight. But that dosn't mean you are unheathly. What is more important is what you eat and if you exercise or if you are fit cardovasicularly.
Did your doctors ever test you for the different types of arthritis? It may be an issue that would be unrelated to weight (like RA). I have Lupus and its affected my knee joints a lot. Swimming helps a lot with the pain.
I find it a shame that your doctors putting so much emphasis on your weight (when it seems like you are taking good care of your health), instead of trying to find ways to reduce your discomfort.
BMI was developed over 100 years ago by one of those god awful doctors caught up in the craze of scientific management. In which, people are one size fits all. That is to say, there are no morbidly obese people, there are no weight lifters, there are no on their feet waitresses who kick ass in roller derby, there are only the moderately sized and the horrifically average.
Arnold Schwartenager at his prime had a BMI of around 30. Which would make him very, overweight.
The Rock, that wrestler/actor thing, has a BMI of around 32.
And all of us good human machines are supposed to be under 25.
BMI does not take into account bone structure, build. The sort of things that distinguish Arnold and Oprah. It is a silly, silly bit of non-science and doctors who use it for anything other than a fast and dirty preliminary screaning are ignorant.
wow... i, too, hate the BMI... I think I read/heard somewhere about michael jordan being obese based upon the BMI.
I hate doctors...
have you tried taking that glucosamine whatever for your knees? my father had horrible knee pain and he took something called 'joint juice' with that in it and hasn't complained in months...
just a thought...
"lose weight", not "lost weight". oops.
yeah, there are fat people that are healthy, and there are skinny people that are unhealthy. But sadly I have found that when I'm called to see someone with a million medical problems (diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, gallstones etc etc etc-) chances are- they are fat. Cause/effect is debatable.
Don't think I'm not sympathizing. I have calculated my BMI over and over too, agonzing over that arbitrary cutoff between 'overweight' and 'obese'. I have always considered myself a 'fat girl' and it has done a number on my self-confidence etc. Even after losing some weight I still feel it. it sucks. But a rant about societal expectations blah blah is for some other time.
As far as knees- it's a vicious cycle. Extra weight puts extra stress on the knees. To get rid of the weight you are supposed to exercise, which puts stress on the knees. Lots/most of the gastric bypass patients I have seen have at least bad arthritis, if they haven't had their knees replaced already. As I'm sure you know, biking, swimming, etc may be worth considering.
And finally the waistline thing- i've never heard of waist circumference being used to define obesity, but it is pretty well established that it does correlate with some diseases. Women with 'central obesity', the so-called 'apple' figure (big belly, stick legs) are at higher risk for heart disease, etc (as compared to women of the same height/weight who carry their weight in their hips/thighs). i think that's where the waist number comes in. Belly fat tends to be intra-abdominal, vs butt fat which is generally just subcutaneous. Interesting, I think- but I wouldn't get too wrapped up in one number.
Sure, we all know it's healthier to not be obese. But we can't put all our self worth in it. And doctors know that. But at the same time, after see the sequelae of obesity over and over and over- "lost weight" unfortunately becomes a bit of a mantra.
Sorry you had a lousy experience with your doc... We're not all jerks though, I promise. :)
I'll semi rant along with you. Its sounds like there is something more going on than overuse. But I dont know anything about knees to be of any help. When you are in a position to go see a (new) doc again, lay out some facts and figures to them. Some can think beyond the text books, others just cant, so back it up. Even if it was directly related to a weight issue, it would take time to take care of that, and in the meantime, something more invasive may need to be done. GAH!
Fortunately my primary doc now is someone who considers all of the other factors that go into health. I hate the labels, not just because of the weight I am at. But because it assumes that someone of a certain weight/height ratio is an avid Twinky eating couch potato.
I do agree that daily exercise and eating a nutrient dense diet (ie; eat to be 'healthy') are necessary. If total cholesterol, BP, strength, flexibility, daily activity, eating habits etc are in check, then for some, carrying extra weight is part of their physiology. Its not all necessarily in the form of fat.
According to labels, Ive been underweight, Ive been "normal" and now, well..
After a couple of back to back life events, I put on a ton and took off half of it or more, so far, but still got a ways to go. I'm not stressing it though. I can run circles around most of my friends in terms of physical activity and stamina. And all of the other stuff mentioned above is really good. But in the meantime, I run into health care providers who dont know all this, and I have to go through the spiel of what my lifestyle is like, etc. (pretty much what you and others have said). I understand that there is a strong correlation between higher weight and a slew of ailments/diseases etc, but its a correlation not a singular cause/effect.
I continue to aim to kick the last set of pounds-I'm accountable, I'm a big girl (bad pun)and know what to do and what not to do--ie; listening to a doc who's advice is their recommendation to buy one of the many fad diet books out there.
So my last two cents- continue to be active in the best way you can right now, keep a pain journal,(and how your lifestyle is changing based on the pain in your knee) and perhaps a food journal, in case the docs think that you consume 8,000 cals a day. And dont dont dont feel icky about the labels.
ok, thats all for now :)