Girls Weekends: Then and Now

As little as five years ago, a girls weekend away would have included:

• Several shopping trips before hand


• Enough dress up outfits for a month away from home


• More makeup and hair products than Hobo the Clown uses


• Huge, really really HUGE, earrings and assorted jewelry


• New sexy “come here” perfume


• Practicing up on dance moves

Not that we were being bad. We were just being “hot” and young. Having men want us was all that mattered; not that we wanted them back. We just needed to feel like we were still attractive.

This weekend away includes:

• A shopping trip to pick up special stickers and papers


• Three suitcases of scrapbooking items


• A tiny backpack of t-shirts and stretchy pants


• No makeup


• No jewelry


• Night cream


• Hours of sorting through papers and stickers to bring just what I need

Now it’s all about us and what we enjoy. Men . . . are there any on the planet?

To Enema, or not to Enema

Yes, this post really is about Enema’s . . . so if you are squeamish or eating you may not want to read on.

I have been psyching myself into fasting next week. While I would like to fast for 7-10 days, which is the recommendation, I am aiming for 5 full days. No, it is not a water fast . . . do I should stupid to you?

It is a juice fast, and I plan on telling you a lot about it next week, so I won’t go into detail about it. Don’t worry, I’m not likely to die from starvation. Not for a year or two anyway. This bear is packing!

The website where I’ve gained most of my information is hosted by a doctor who believes in healing yourself. www.naturalhealthtechniques.com

To get the most from your fasting experience they encourage you to do other things each day as you fast. These include:

• Brush your skin before taking a bath or shower


• Sunbathe at least 15 minutes a day


• When showering, switch from cold to hot – three times


• Some form of exercise for 20-30 minutes a day


• Give yourself 1-2 Enema’s a day

Now, I’ve actually heard of dry brushing before and I understand the value of it. I also understand that getting sun will help counter the depression fasting may cause. After reading their explanation bout the changing of temperatures during your shower, I’m okay with that as well. And, the exercise is a no brainier. Which leaves me with the original query of my post; do I Enema or not.

I’m be honest and tell you right up front, I’ve never had an enema that I remember. I think they forced them on 20 years ago when you were giving birth. At that point in the birthing process you are so accustomed to be examined and prodded by anyone wearing a green jacket, you don’t really pay any attention. That little thing called PAIN is holding all of your attention.

I was thinking an enema would be like a douche, just at the other end. I didn’t think that would be so bad; as long as you can buy them prepackaged. Because, yuck. Who wants to clean off what might get stuck in the little water holes when that comes out?

Then I got to reading their directions for an Enema and it’s nothing like I though. Well, it is sort of like I thought. Water does go up the ass; it just doesn’t run right back out. According to their instructions, you have to use a special bag with a knob to adjust the water flow. I believe I’ve already displayed the eekeness of this factor adequately. Then you have to contain the liquid inside you for as long as you can before you release it. They say the process can take up to 20 minutes to perform. That’s not even the end of it. While you are lying (Where exactly do you lay when your ass if filled with water?) down you have to massage your stomach to help loosen up the sludge in your intestines.

Now, before I go any further. I want to share that I know for a fact that receiving enemas is considered normal in many parts of the world. Lots of high price spas and health centers also offer it for their clients. There are known advantages.

What I have to ask myself is . . . when is enough, enough? I’m going to fast, make my own fresh juices to eat, brush my skin, get sun, go walking, and try to remain up beat and not kill my family members. Do I have to fill my ass with hot water too?

I mean really? Will it make that big of a difference?

We’re remodeling our quest bath so we’re all sharing at the moment. I can just see me laying on the cold tile floor, rubbing my tummy, and cussing like a sailor. Then Will starts beating on the door.

“Mom, I need to go pepe!”

Can you get up and walk around with a butt full of warm water? Should you?

Go Kill Yourself; Next Week

In 42 years of life I have gone off with my girlfriend(s) only once to enjoy being away from it all. I’m not talking about a party weekend. In fact, we spent the entire weekend eating at places people don’t take children and scrapbooking in our hotel room. You know your old when . . .

I have had an occasional weekend away with members of my family. Cindy, Becky, and Byjo have been wonderful over the years for arranging time for us to escape away together. Where we could enjoy the silliness that only comes with a bunch of drunk women reliving their free and wild days. My days were not nearly as wild or free as theirs, so I always took the photos and made notes for blackmail purposes later.

Regardless, my point is this. The one time I went out to get away from it all, my sister committed suicide. I was actually called in the middle of the night at the hotel I was staying at. Then months of emotionally crippling stress, pain, and sadness immediately followed. To say I didn’t come back from that weekend relaxed and ready to enjoy my life would be an understatement.

So, being the type of person who takes the bull by the horns, I wanted to let everyone I know that if they were considering suicide, next week would work out better for me. I know, how selfish can I be? Right? Well, I need a weekend away and I am going to have it.

Just in case my heart-felt plea isn’t reaching you, consider the following list of atrocities I am prepared to heap upon you after your death:

• I will plant stickers on your grave at least 4 times a year.


• I’ll ask the minister to acknowledge your gay lover during the ceremony.


• I will wear a bikini to your funeral. Do remember I’m 200 pounds and only 5.2 feet tall.


• I will take my dog to relieve himself on your grave every time I’m in town. And when the dog I have dies, I’ll get another one.


• I will surround your grave with statues of the Virgin Mary.


• I will put cheap plastic holiday decorations on your grave for EVERY holiday.


• I’ll play “You’re so Vain” on my CD player at your funeral, because it meant something special to us.


• I’ll post my own obituary in the paper and put in your worse school photo.


• I’ll egg your gravesite each Halloween.

Two new "How To" articles added to E-How Site

Those of you who are unfamiliar with www.ehow.com might not realize how addicting it can become. It is a site that allows anyone to post up directions to do ANYTHING.

A lot of people I mention it to are like, "But I don't know how to do anything." Yes you do. Everyone knows how to do something. How to brush the backs of your teeth. How to prevent the entire house from smelling like fish when you cook it. How to grill a stuffed jalapeno. How to avoid the in laws for the holidays. How to say "I have a headache" and not hurt his feelings.

Everyone knows something. And the articles only have to have 3 steps -- more are welcome. You can use photos or not. You can attach a video. And the best part? You get paid a little something something for taking the time to share.

Before you get to excited you don't get paid a lot. It depends on how many people end up putting out links to your articles and how many sponsors want to advertise on your pages. I have some articles that pay over $10 a month, every month, for the last year. The money you get paid continues until the site closes. I have about 80 articles published on ehow and I bring in around $60 a month -- for no effort, for ever.

Okay, I'm getting off the collapsing soap box now.

The real news it I just posted up two new articles. One on making your own vitamin infused lip balm with things you have at home and an article on recycling records by melting them for creative purposes.

If you check them out be sure to rate them for me!

It’s Just Melted Cheese

I’ve spent most of my life as a very shy and retiring person. Yes, you can quit laughing now. I have obviously outgrown most of it. Those of you that know me might be surprised to the degree I have gone in the past to avoid confrontations.

The one event that jumps out at me a lot lately, is how I order food at a restaurant.

I pull up to a Sonic and order myself a burger with mayo, jalapeños, and cheese, hold the onions. Will a cheeseburger plain. In addition, I want a diet coke easy ice and a child size sweet tea.

If you have a Sonic near you, you will understand that this is an order ASKING to be screwed up. It often is. I check it very carefully and send it back if I don’t get what I asked for. I don’t even care if they have to make two or three trips out to my car. I told them what I wanted and if they take my money, they are under obligation to give me what I pay for.

The funny thing is that when my girls were little; say 15-18 years ago. I wouldn’t even ask the people at the restaurant to leave off the mustard on their burgers. It was uncomfortable for me to do so. So every time the girls would see mustard on their burgers and say something, what would I tell them?

It’s just melted cheese.

Just imagine what else I never stood up for.

Kids will eat ANYTHING

This evening I had to run to the corner store and pick up something for supper. Will had to have an ice cream and he picked out a nepolian sandwhich. I opened the ice cream for him while he got into his car seat.

As I was backing up, I heard him say, "Oh man!"

I peeked over my shoulder and could see half of his ice cream sandwhich was gone and he was getting out of his car seat to pick it up. I asked him if he wanted me to role the window down for him so he could through it out.

He said, "No. It's only got hair and dirt on it."

And he ate it.

It's Official, I'm Obese

I come from a long line of fat women. It's true. My great-grandmother, grandmother, mother, all my aunts . . . they all ended up fat. Some of them fought the good fight, but at the end of the race they were all at the same place. Overweight.

I only mention one side of my family, for I have no information on my fathers side. I'm a bastard. And no, I'm not saying I'm mean and kick small children and animals. (Not all the time anyway.) I was born illegitimate and my father died in Vietnam. I have no idea of the family health on that side of my family.

Most of my life I have fought not to be fat. I've worked out. Gone on endless diets. Jogged, walked, biked. You name it and I've done it. But the forties have not been good to be. Well, for a cow, they might have been good.

I know I need to get my butt in gear and start watching what I eat or find a way to work out with Will, but I keep putting it off. It is just easier to buy larger clothes than to work at loosing the weight.

About a week ago, I succumb to the checkout stand magazine rack allure and purchased All You's Health and Fitness issue. It has since been laying unopen on my dining room table, under the take out boxes. I dug it out during super and was flipping through it. I found a place where they give you the formula to figure out your BMI (Body Mass Index). Being a nerd for mathematical equations I ended up completing it and found I had a BMI of 35.

Under the formula is a table that explains the different number ranges. I look down and the very bottom of the table says "30 or higher". That would be me. And what did it say under 30 or higher?

You are obese.

I don't know why this was such a shock. Did I expect them to call me fluffy? Tell me I had big bones? I hate the word obese.

When I looked over in the other columns there was more good news. I found out that I'm at higher risk for high blood pressure, diabetes, cancer, asthma, and so much more.

Hoping to get a better idea of what "obese" really was I looked up the definition online. Here are a few of my favorite phrases:

a condition in which excess body fat
has accumulated to such an extent that
health may be negatively affected

obesity has been found to reduce life expectancy

one of the most serious public health problem of the 21st century

Obesity is often stigmatized in the modern Western world


So, I'm going to be sick and die young. And they think this is worse than continually buying clothes with more XXs in them?

I did see one comforting note in the definitions of obese:

perceived as a symbol of wealth and fertility
at other times in history and
still is in many parts of Africa

You might ask, just in case a time machine is not made available and you don't win a free trip to Africa, what are you planning on doing? Am I starting a new diet tomorrow? Going to increase my exercise? Join a gym?

I've decided on a definite two-punch regiment guaranteed to make me feel better. I'm going to "post" about it, because that always takes away some of the stress when I'm dealing with things. Then I'm going to quit buying magazines on impulse; it could be deadly to your health!