My friend, Kip, says this has helped her but me? I'm not so sure. I've had 2 sessions and I'm not really feeling any changes. All that's different is that I feel where the needles have been inserted. The sites are not so much as painful as it is stimulated and itchy. So not only am I walking like an old woman trying to pinch her butt cheeks so that she does not have diarrhea, but I find myself scratching my butt frequently, too. I'll try another session tomorrow so we shall see. Has anyone had any experience with this? And how many sessions have you had before you felt better?
I learned my lesson from the last time I was at the doctor's. A broken back is no excuse to be hairy. At least where he will be touching me. Oh, wait. It's not the vagina whisperer. I saw the spine specialist instead. For the dude's sake, the least I could do is be hairless on my legs. I figure I could do this for mankind at least once this summer. Hey, I was proud of myself. I placed a little chair in the shower and managed to bathe and shave without further injury. By myself. To my embarassment, I discovered that I missed a strip. All I needed was a little mousse and I could have shaped the hair into a little mohawk. Oh well. I guess if I am posting my ass for all to see, I have lost all pride.
1. Take photo of own ass during accupuncture treatment with camera phone.
2. Open photo in photo editing program.
3. Throw up a little in own mouth.
4. Use filter to show ass in best light because, let's face it: no one will see me in public first recognizing my cheeks.
5. Be thankful for password protection.
I guess it all started with our National Lampoon trip to Knott's Berry Farm a couple of months ago. I swam in the very public pool and promptly got a sinus infection as if the trip wasn't torture enough. After a course of antibiotics, I still had a cough that never went away. Enter my herniated disk who decided to act up on me after a violent attack of coughing two days ago. So now my whole left butt cheek and my whole left leg is numb and tingly and painful. I am on Motrin and Lortab, my very favorite cocktail, yet again. It's kinda hard to go to the bathroom by myself let alone walk, and last night, I knew for sure that Jeff loved me. He helped me to the bathroom and pulled down my underwear just so I didn't pee myself. Now that's love. Or maybe he didn't want me to wet the very bed that he was also sleeping in.
I married a man who likes to rearrange the living room furniture on a whim. And when he gets that inkling, he goes for it, like 1 o'clock in the morning, crashing and clanging to his heart's content. So the furniture is now rearranged in this box formation that only makes sense to him, because in addition to being a compulsive rearranger, he is also one to do things in even numbers and in the center. For instance, his favorite number is 8 (most probably it is because it resembles boobs) so he completes tasks in eights; he microwaves food for 28 seconds, 1 minute 8 seconds. You get the idea. So now there is an even amount of space between all couches in proportion to the wall and the television. Yes, the living room looks bigger, but in moving things to and fro, he's gone and confused the poor wife and dogs.
I feel ok with having the blog protected at this point so I will continue to blog my mundane life. Too bad for you. :)
I got this yesterday:
And made the title and flowers on this page with it:
The Craft Robo Pro is my new favorite toy. After a little bit of a learning dilemma, I finally figured out how to cut cardstock and chipboard with it!
I've been thinking a lot about quitting the blogging thing lately. It's been over a year and really, I have nothing that interesting to say. I wake up, I eat chocolate, I scrapbook, some days I work, I get frustrated, I go to bed, I break toilet seats, I attack my husband, I am confused by my feelings, I am human. And with this blog, I put myself out there. For support, for encouragement, for criticism. And you all have been too gracious with your comments and praise. :) But with this comes some backlash and some negative feedback, and I am prepared for that.
However, I am taken aback by what I've read at the Scrap Critic blog. It has since been taken down but the damage has been done. The premise was to critique all things scrapbooking and it quickly turned into something nasty and cruel for many who have also put their feelings out there, who scrapbook and blog about their lives. A scrapbook page is not enough anymore, one's character is now open for criticism and ridicule. It's made me a little skittish about sharing so much of myself because I can quickly become misconstrued and misunderstood. In reality, no matter how much I reveal of myself, no one knows the real me. I'm ok with that. But I don't necessarily have to participate in the game. Thank goodness for password protection.
In an effort to take the kids off our minds, hubby and I spent some much needed time together. We went to a Hoobastank and Nickelback concert with some friends last night and I've decided that I am indeed ancient. So ancient that I should probably have someone else chew my food for me. While I enjoy music on my stereo/iPod, I found that noise blasted at 2000 decibels does not music make. I am not a rock groupie nor do I appreciate drunk ones when they scream in my face. But hey, we had adult conversation without having to censor what comes out of our mouths nor did we worry about if our company ate enough or if they had food up their nose. Secretly, I probably would have had a better time seeing a PG rated movie with 2 little urchins who ask for too much candy at the theater and who have to use the restroom at the most inopportune times. Ah, this empty nest will soon be full again and I will enjoy this time.
I admit it. I miss farting contests, spilled milk on the dining table, toys placed in haphazard places, unflushed toilets (well, ok, maybe not that too much), more dirty dishes than I care to see, fighting over which CD to play in the car, scrapbooking together, giving each other makeovers, playing video games, singing Celine Dion on karaoke over and over and over. I miss the kids. :(
This is for Carrie, my fellow coconut: