It was sloppy, wet and I only kind of liked it

On the way in to work this morning I heard it was National Remember Your First Kiss Day (aside- is it just me or is there a national everything day? In fact I think yesterday was National Watch Paint Dry Day)

*Ahem*

It took me back, way back. To 8th grade.

His name was Ben and he was so cute. We had seventh period together and flirted like mad but neither of us ever had the guts to pull the trigger.

One day as I sat at home lusting after dreaming about Ben I decided I'd write him a note. Instead of straight out confessing my feelings I wrote the beginning of a story that mirrored our situation and asked that he complete the rest and then give it back to my sister during fifth period. I remember adding several "ha, ha, ha, has" after my part of the story. I called it my protection. Protection in the event that he looked at the note , laughed his ass off then gagged at the thought of an "us".

As luck would have it , I didn't need the protection. He ended the story with the man professing his love to the woman and the P.S. and I quote " are you going to the 8th grade dance if this means what I think it means then HOT DAMN"

I was over the moon. In seventh period , after exchanging several winks and goo goo eyes we made arrangements to walk home together.

My pulse quickened and my pupils turned to hearts as I daydreamed that whole class away.

Before I knew it it was time to go.

And it was everything I anticipated. Holding Ben's hand was magical. I felt on top of the world. But then we'd gotten to his house too quickly. I didn't want the afternoon to end. So we decided to walk to my house.

Once at my house I introduced him to my stepmother and showed him around and then he told me he needed to get back home.

It was at that moment that I officially got nervous. I knew there was going to be a kiss. I knew other people in my class that had actually french kissed before. But I wasn't one of them.
Ben was my first "real boyfriend" and holding hands that day was as far as I had gotten. Hell, I was only 12 years old (for those of you doing the math, I started kindergarten at age 4).

Sweating, I walked him out and headed down the sidewalk.

I told him I'd walk him halfway, in an effort to stall.

We took a shortcut he knew and we were behind several houses when I knew I couldn't stall any longer.

As we said our goodbyes I secretly wondered if I could get away with a peck. I quickly found out that wasn't to be.

He leaned in and put his arms around me. I closed my eyes and put my arms around him. Our lips touched. Then, there it was. His tongue poking at my lips.
I had less than a second to decide my course of action. I wasn't completely stupid. I'd watched R movies. I figured the best thing to do was open my mouth.

Only I didn't know what to do with my tongue.

So I clumsily circled his tongue, and felt his drool down the side of my mouth.

Then it was over.

And I was glad.

I opened my eyes and smiled at him.

We hugged and then went our seperate ways. Once I was sure he was gone I wiped the side of my mouth and ran. I don't know why I ran at that moment. It just felt like the right thing to do.

When I got home I told my twin sister what I'd just done and how I felt about it. We laughed and laughed.

Our relationship ended with a tragic breakup a few days later at the 8th grade dance. The break-up had nothing to do with the kiss and my desire to never do it again. It had more to do with peer pressure. And the fact that I was beginning to explore the new wave lifestyle and Ben was a jock. I let my friends convince me he wasn't the one.
What can I say I was 12.

And that my friends, is the story of my first kiss.


Epilogue: In Ben's defense, I don't think he was a bad kisser. We were kids. Very inexperienced kids. Freshman year, he begin dating a Sophomore field hockey player. They dated all throughout high school and college and are now married with children. As for Ben and I. We're friends now. On Facebook.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

I took a painkiller moments ago so be prepared for this post to go downhill. Quickly.

The surgery went well from what I'm told. And two days post... I'm. Well I think I'm alright.

The morning of surgery was just odd. It was all very surreal and I felt like I was on the set of {insert popular medical drama here.I'm not up on my medi-dramas anymore. Ahem}.

The hospital staff was really wonderful, but as they poked and prodded all I wanted to do for some reason was make inappropriate jokes. When I was asked to remove my clothes I had to have a serious discussion with myself so I didn't ask them to make sure the doctor didn't molest me while I was out. In my head it kinda sounded funny. I know. Not funny right? I blame the drugs and the nerves.

The last thing I remember prior to surgery was my very lovely anesthesiology nurse asking me to breathe deeply into the oxygen mask, the stinging sensation in my IV that she'd assured me the sleepy bye bye drug would cause and the words "Goodnight, Stacey".

The next thing I recall was me asking somebody if I'd just come from work, them telling me no, and then my husband's gentle touch on my cheek.

I was in recovery. And higher than I imagine any one has ever been in the history of man. Apparently I'd told someone my pain level was high and so they gave me Fentanyl. I never ever want that shit again. I felt out of control and I just wanted to feel like me.

But they were pushing me to get dressed and get out (in the hospital's defense I was adamant that I didn't want to stay overnight). I remember telling the hubby he was going to have to help me walk out because I just knew my legs would have betrayed me had I tried to stand on them (thank goodness for wheelchairs).
We made it home around 11:00 a.m. and my bed and I have been good friends over the last several days. It's been weird, but kind of nice, but mostly weird.

I had a lot more to say, I think. But I think you get the gist...
So I shall say goodbye and thanks to y'all for your well wishes and offers to cuddle and make out when I'm better.
So you can be here with me in spirit I give you me in pictures Pretty right?
I know I'm a good friend.
Smooches.

My Neck Speaks Out (My first ever Vlog) - ***Updated

Update (4/5/10) - They'll be lancing, excuse me, excising this sucker on 4/15. And I'm pretty sure I have to be at the hospital which is about 40 minutes from my home at 6:00 a.m. As you can imagine I'm thrilled. Ok really I kinda am. Not about the 6:00 a.m. and not about the getting my neck cut open but secretly I'm excited for the down time. I know sad, right ? The surgery is only about an hour and recovery is only a few days. The suckiest part ? I have to refrain from any strenous activity for 1 month post surgery. Uh hello jiggly ass, I might as well embrace you because it looks like you be sticking around awhile!


If you haven't read my last post yet, go read it now. This will make a lot more sense if you do.

I'll wait.

Now that you're up to speed. Watch this:

Excuse me Miss, is that an Adams Apple ?

Alternate title under consideration: "Excuse me while I fall apart" because hello first there was this. Then I got shin splints which temporarily halted my master plan to be hot bodied by summer.

Now, I have...an adams apple. Or what looks like one anyway. Some random nodule on my throat which is both stressing me the hell out and making me laugh at the same time (it's either that or cry) . It appeared yesterday or so I think and I promptly made everyone in my house let me feel their necks so I could compare to see if this thing was normal. And guess whose neck mine most closely resembles right about now ?

If you guessed my husband you'd be correct.

*sigh*

I can only hope it's some random thyroid thing that will go away on it's own*. I can't bear to think of anything else. I love men and all...but I sure as hell don't want to be mistaken for one.


*before you even ask, why yes I do have a doctors appointment scheduled this afternoon. And you're welcome

Days 1 & 2

I'm writing to you from what can only be described as an almost too tired to function state. In fact when I first started this post I typed in a title and instead of hitting tab I hit enter. And published a title.

Shit! I did it again. I hit enter and published a title and a sentence. Lord help me. My apologies to your readers.

Day one of this happened much like you and I both knew it would. I didn't do a damn thing. I had all kinds of anxiety Sunday night over the whole getting up early and instead of going to sleep at a reasonable hour, I farted around on the computer and watched tv until 12:00 a.m. When I awoke randomly at 4:00 a.m., I quickly decided to shut off my cell phone alarm and promptly rolled over and caught two hours more of zzzs.

Was I disappointed in myself ? Not really. I've lived with me for a long time and I kind of get me. I was pretty convinced shortly after I wrote the original post that I wasn't getting up on a Monday morning at 5:00 a.m. to work out.

In fact, I may have made a rule that Mondays are my "rest" day. But don't quote me on that. One never knows when a wild hair might sprout.

Then there was today. Day 2. I didn't sleep soundly because I think my subconscious was aware of the commitment my brain had made and just wouldn't allow it. So when the alarm went off, I actually got up. I grabbed my workout clothes , headed downstairs

and sat

on the couch

and stared in to space.

Finally after 20 minutes, I got sick of my own ridiculousness and told myself it was now or never. So still dragging somewhat I slapped in the EA Active Personal Trainer and did an actual workout. ( hell what can I say it makes working out less of a chore for me and more closely resembles something fun. Oh and tip to those who have it or are considering buying it. It's a great tool, but think about using weights instead of the resistance band that comes with the game. Sure you'll have to balance holding the Wii remote and the Nunchuck in your hands along with the weights but it will give you more of an intense workout. Wait What!? Did I just give a fitness tip? Woo-hoo lookit me!)

I felt glorious afterward. Exhausted, but glorious really. There was something about my home being so still and quiet that was calming. There were no children telling me about my jiggly parts or asking umpteen questions. Just me and my workout.

But now, holy eff I'm tired. Like the kind of tired where you feel drunk and can't walk straight.

And I know one of two things is going to happen. I will fall asleep early and be raring to go bright and early. Or I will be so tired, I'll sleep right through my alarm.

We shall see what tomorrow brings.

Next week, I'll detail my descent in to craziness

I've been thinking about this for a while.

I'm almost afraid to say it too loudly. But I'm thinking of becoming a morning person.

If you know me via this blog or IRL you know that I am so ridiculously far from that right now that I might as well have said I'm thinking of becoming a man. It's possible, but it's going to take a lot of effort on my part.

I hate everyone in the morning. If you talk to me before I'm ready to hear a human voice I'll slap you. I'm that kind of evil.

But heres the thing, as much as it pains me to think this, I already am forced to be up at o'dark thirty . My work day starts at 7:30 a.m. which means I do get up early. Sure when I actually get to work, I'm usually makeupless, and dressed in the closest thing to pajamas and I hate it. But I do it.

Why am I contemplating this life change you ask ? The reality is that I need to start working out. Not just for weight loss, but for my personal health too. I'm no spring chicken and I'm told things only get harder as you get older. And after an 8 hour work day, a 1 hour commute, cooking, homework, picking out clothes for the next day, reading with kids, putting kids to bed, dishes and dog walking I'm exhausted and simply lack the will to workout.

So the other week as I looked at my big jiggly booty in the mirror an idea came to me.

Why not just work out in the morning ?!

My house is quiet, I won't have to contend with well meaning children that want to talk to me while I'm panting and sweating like a beast.

If I can manage to drag myself out of bed a mere hour earlier I can get in a 1/2 hour workout, shower,shampoo,shine and then I may even have more endorphins flowing which will surely help me to endure the work day.

Once this new plan is in place my hope is that when the work day is done, I won't have that awful feeling of "Shit, I didn't work out again tonight. I think my batwings have gotten droopier"

So we'll see. I've decided I'm going to document it. I can't not. Because I'll need a written record to show the doctors what drove me off the deep end.

When Couches attack:my weekend in pictures

People fall asleep on the couch every flarn filth flarn night right? Then they wake up with stiff necks and in 24 hours they recover, amiright?

Not if you're me. In 24 hours. The shit gets progressively worse. To the point where you wake up in severe pain not even able to dress yourself. Well, dress yourself well anyway.



Me - in my latest fashion accessory




But then there were these



















And life was good.