health

How I found myself in the medical marijuana movement

/ Amanda / 2 Comments
Get ready for some venting and the use of a few passionate words.
My involvement with the medical marijuana movement started from a very dark place, which still makes me angry. I normally don’t share these years with the public, but sometimes the origin story is necessary to understand the premise of the  passion.
As a staunch advocate for punishments for those involved in the illegal drug trade, I’ve had many people ask me, “How did I became a voice for medical marijuana?”
Simple. I was forced to see chronic pain from the other side.
I was forced into a position of chronic pain and I saw what true abuse of power can do to patients who need real help.
Do I still promote strong punishments for illegal drug trade? Oh yes! The people behind the Fentanyl pills, made to look like regular pain pills, which are killing people right now, should be held up as murderers.
*********
Those drug dealers are using the new CDC policies to prey on patients who are in pain and have been let down by their government and by their physicians. The drug dealers doing this are using the nationwide panic to purposely kill people with a medication needed by some people to survive. During the Tylenol scare of the 80s, the perpetrator was held up as the murderer, but when drug dealers are killing people based on new policies created by the CDC, the unsuspecting buyers, (the ones the CDC have hurt worse) are being held up as the guilty parties. In reality, it’s the CDC, who behind closed doors, used their infinite uncontrolled power to create criminals from chronically sick citizens (don’t we have enough people in prison in America without forcing normal citizens to become criminals just to survive?).
********
The people who stand outside of schools to sell drugs to little children or those who get young girls addicted, only to use them for profit, should be put so far under the jail they should never see the light of day again. My position on those situations have never wavered.
When exactly did my position on medical marijuana change?
It happened while I was in the military. Due to many injuries, back issues, and chronic pain diseases, I was left in severe pain on a daily basis. I was allowed to suffer worse than a lost pet in the county kennel. I explained to my medical team what my goals in life were and what I needed to accomplish these goals. My new Physician Assistant (PA) allowed me to take pain medications for my diseases and I was able to function again. I could spend time with my children, I was attending grad school, conducting limited exercise, maintaining my weight, and working at G3 on my Army base. I was hurt and sick, but with the help of my PS, I was still rocking and rolling. I knew I was slowly making a comeback. Even if I wasn’t going to be 100%, I knew I was fighting this mess and my PA knew how to help me.
Then a new physician came in, CPT C. Brill, a total arrogant asshole if I’ve ever seen one. He wanted to become a holistic physician, so he requested and was approved for a large number of holistic classes, then he commenced to use his patients as his guinea pigs. Now let make this clear, we had no choice. We could not leave him as our physician. There was nothing  we, as his patients, could do about his actions, without causing ourselves even more harm. He was the only PA we were allowed to see, so any medical help we had, went through him. Each time someone complained about him, he would use his power to hurt that person even more. No matter how many complaints he received, he was the experimental holistic doctor on our base and his research (he was about to retire) would take him to the next step in his life. He did not care about his patients. His only care was for his career.
********
Let me make it clear, there are some incredibly awesome holistic measures patients can use to help with their diseases; yoga, vitamins, massage, chiropractic medicine, meditation, and more. In fact, I participate in some of these activities when I am able. But when a medical professional forces patients, through lies, intimidation, and abuse of power, to participate in his experiments, then the entire reason for holistic medicine is negated. Bring forced to give up what works for something that doesn’t work (holistic or not) is not healthy for anyone and can cause irreparable harm. I’m not against holistic medication, I’m against the abuse of medical power by medical professionals in any form.
********
The first month he took over for our old PA, he took all pain medications away from his patients, except those with deadly cancer. Even patients who had severe back issues, pins and braces in their body, shrapnel in their body, and men and women who suffered with chronic pain diseases and could barely get out of bed, were subjected to his outrageous claims of holistic practices alone treating these conditions.
He did not titrate his patients down, as an ethical PA should. No. He told his patients flat out they would follow his way, period. He came to our unit with an agenda and used that agenda to conduct painful procedures on the Soldiers assigned to his office. There was no reasoning with him at all. On top of his experiments, he also ignored and did not follow orders from real medical doctors, such as specialty physicians, from RA offices or Pain Management offices. Soldiers would come to him with records from capable, respected, Medical Doctors, but due to his position, he could ignore the orders. CPT Brill was an entity by himself, allowed to treat his patients as he wanted, even unethically. He was the epitome of abuse of power and an shining example of how military medical care is handled. The lack of voice Soldiers have concerning experiments that harm them and the military carrying out medical practices contrary to their medical needs is exactly why the Feres Doctrine has outlived it’s usefulness.
We were used as his study patients, no matter how much it negatively affected our lives.
The month he took my medication away I was in incredible pain. I started feeling the difference right away. My joints swelled up, I used my cane more, I dropped out of school, and I could barely get out of bed. My brain could not process the amount of pain I was feeling and started shutting down parts of my body to handle the pain in my vital organs.
My blood pressure soared, my blood tests results were scrambled, my face turned bright white many times, and I was dizzy from pain more often than I admitted in public. I honestly think the damage he inflicted on my body will never fully recover. Severe pain changes your DNA and how your brain processes pain and pain memory. I truly believe CPT Brill ruined any chance I had of making a decent recovery.
It was at that very moment, June 2013, I swore I would never allow a flipping arrogant asshole to have that much control over my life ever again. My life means too much to me, for myself and my children, to allow someone I barely knew, whom I did not approve of, to ever control my life 100% and to put me in a position where I could die and the trusted person would not care. I refuse to be just another number to some jerk who only cares about himself. I owed it to my children to fight for my life against someone who didn’t care about out future, but only his own.
How dare that asshole think he could experiment on me (and other Soldiers, some of whom wanted to take their lives due to the pain they were forced to experience) and think I would go quietly in the night. I may not have been able to move from his care, but I made my anger and dissatisfaction well known.
The problem was, no matter how many complaints Soldiers or I filed (or my family filed) our physical well being was not as important as the experiments the Army was allowing CPT Brill to do to us.
My pain became so grave, my right foot swelled up with CRPS (the most painful disease known to humans) and became paralyzed. The day before my daughter’s 25th birthday, another Doctor on FT Campbell took over my pain care and I was put in the ICU on a Ketamin drip. I missed my daughter’s 25th birthday because an arrogant CPT decided his career and his belief was more important than my life. Well, that would not do for me.
While he was on leave, April 2014, I made an appointment to see another Doctor, a real Doctor on post. She wasn’t the best, but one thing we both had in common, we both disliked CPT BRILL, so I was able to really talk to her about my pain and my right foot. Before my PA came back from leave, she arranged to have me as one of her experimental patients. Yes, I was again an experiment, but this was an experiment I had to agree to and I needed to agree to (at least I was given the choice this time). We had to move fast. We had to get approval, my agreement, and a secured bed before he returned. We did.
I was the very first Ketamin patient on our post. Within 3 days my pain had decreased, my foot was working again, the swelling had gone down, and blood flow returned. If it had not been for her I don’t know where I would be now. That three days of “pain vacation” was what I need to keep going just a few more months. I knew I could survive just long enough to escape his torture.
With all my medical paperwork and my retirement very quickly approaching, I was able to get a referral to a pain clinic to get help in the form of correct pain management, such as shots in my back, an upgraded TENS unit, and yes, medications.
I tell this story because, my fight for medical marijuana did not come to me because I was looking for something to do or because I want to get high (I have still never used MJ at all, even though I could pop over to CO or Washington), or because i want people to be able to get high with no consequences, even alcohol and cigarettes have consequences and they are legal.
I became involved in the movement because I saw how medical professionals can use their positions to harm patients in the worst way possible, they are allowed to watch them suffer and force the patients to beg for help which never comes. Some medical professionals, use their positions and attitudes towards something they are scared of and don’t understand, to justify treating patients as second class citizens and puppets in their own screwed up play.
I have seen first hand what physicians can do when they have full control of a patient’s health care. The bad ones do acquire the “god complex” so deeply ingrained, they can justify anything to force their way on their patients. I have seen first hand the suffering they inflict when only their limited knowledge on a subject is allowed to take control of their treatment of patients. This is especially true when the physician has knowledge that his patients have no options
I’m older, educated, I have confidence, and I’m very vocal about my health care and yet, I was still experimented on, against my will, and there was very little I could do about it. I was a prisoner and victim of abuse of medical power. So, what about the Soldiers and civilian patients who have no voice. What about the constant amount of patients, who are so afraid of breaking the law, they are killing themselves everyday instead of risk being arrested and making it worse for their family members. What about them? How can anyone say those patients, who are in severe pain, don’t deserve at least the same care and dignity we offer to dogs in a pound? Why are patients allowed to suffer with chronic pain and this seems to be an accepted course of action by the CDC and some physicians, when a pet in pain is allowed pain medication because to allow the pet to suffer would be inhumane? How does any of this make sense to any government agency?
When I left the military, I did end up with some really fantastic physicians. I worked hard to build the team I need to work with me as I go through this medical journey. I was once more accomplishing a few things normal people would just call living. I call it having a good day. With each passing month, I was slowly having a few more good days. Not only did I have to fight my diseases, but I also had to drag myself up from the damage inflicted on me by my “trusted” medical professional (unfortunately, he was not the first nor the last to let me down, but the most trusted one who damaged me more greatly than all the others).
It has been exactly 2 years since I was in the ICU and I’m finally gaining back what I lost through underhanded practices. I’m finally (again) on the road back to some sort of normal I can live with. It hasn’t been easy and I’ve worked hard to get here, fighting the some really stupid people every step of the way. This year, I actually danced for the first time in 5 years. That wasn’t because of some holistic treatment given to me by some arrogant physician assistant, trying to boaster his career, no that came from real medical help, in the form of a muti-specialty approach, including the correct and controlled application of various medications.
But, now, the CDC and the FDA have decided they wish to punish all patients and do a sweep of all pain medications from every patient, no matter what the condition of the patient or the judicial background of each patient. We patients are not treated as humans, we are treated with contempt and hatred that we dared survive and we dared to want a life worth living.
Again, I fight for medical marijuana because the CDC and the FDA do not put my life nor my family first in their decision. In fact, they even ignored some of the top rated physicians and made policies behind closed doors, to take control away from the patient and their physician, and give it directly to the CDC. My physician is a top rated physician, who works hard with his patients to allow them the best life they can live with the diseases they must face each and every day. Now he must turn control of his work over to whom ever the CDC deems appropriate for their goals. Not only does this put an extra burden on the patients but, when more physicians are added to the mix ( especially those directed by the CDC and not by the patient), the clear standard of care is lost between a Doctor and a patient. These new policies are doing nothing to punish criminals, but will do so much harm to patients. The CDC is allowed to approve some of the biggest discrimination policies in our nation. As chronic pain patients, we deserve treatment with dignity and respect, not abuse and suspicion.
Why am I a huge advocate of marijuana (all marijuana, even recreational), because I’m tired of government agencies (the CDC, the Army, the FDA) thinking my life, my family, and my future is a flipping game. I’m not a number. I’m a human who also happens to be a patient. I may live in constant pain, but by GOD, the more pain you leave me in with your stupid, outrageous policies, the louder I will get. There are millions of patients just like me. They suffer daily because of the games played with their lives. They sit in dark corners, they lie in bed, they hide from society, and some of them wish they could die. They are the chronic pain patients of our nation and they have rights too.
I’m not a number and I’m not a toy to be played with. The more pain you force on me the more I will fight you until my last breath. CDC, it’s been a long 2 years coming back from what CPT Brill did to me and I won’t give my life up again without a fight.
I have a voice and I’m not afraid to use it.
#patientsnotaddicts  @patientsnotaddicts 

Frida Kahlo and Pain

/ Amanda / 4 Comments

Today has been shit. Just shit. I spent two days going like crazy, then I spent two days with my brain screaming out in pain. Of course, I don’t scream. If I screamed the way I felt, someone would lock me away in a shiny new room, with pretty white walls. So, I write.

My writing might be crap on days like this, but mostly I’m able to pull together a few sentences which adhere to the English language. It’s always a struggle. I want to write coherently, but it’s either I’m sleepy from medications or in pain because I did not take the medications on time. That balance always leaves me frustrated and pissed off.

Hello, Fate! This was not the future I planned for, and it sure wasn’t the body I wanted. I want an exchange.

One of the fun things I really do enjoy is looking at art. I’ve always admired how other humans can put together colors in what seems like random spots, yet, in the end it turns out so perfectly.

Two of my favorite artists are Van Gogh and Frida Kahlo. They inspire me when I feel my worst. I have to remember, even when they felt nothing but pain, agony, and shame, they produced great works of art, which are breath taking. I may never be a Van Gogh or a Frida, but I can admire their work and draw inspiration from their stories and their work.

Just for the record, I feel like this today……

 

Frida Kahlo

There is pain, then there is PAIN! The constant change of the weather is pulling and pushing my inner body in ways which feel like some mid-evil torture chamber. Sometimes I think if there were no weather changes, I could face the constant drum of pain, then I remember, there is no place without weather changes, and this is going to be my life, day in and day out.

So, I go to sleep. In my dreams I hope and pray the weather does become nicer in time. I can only hope my pain decreases from this scream to a manageable roar.

Until then, I will somehow put words together in coherent sentences, and call it writing. Maybe Frida and Vincent would be proud.

Until next time….. Be safe, be kind, and always be happy.

 

 

I need happy colors in my life

/ Amanda / 1 Comment

I really need this in my life before the end of 2015. The top two are my favs!

I adore color. My life has been colorless for far too many years. I need color again. Instead of blending in, I need to stand out and shine. I need to step away from the shadows and be free to be who I am.

I have run on autopilot for so many years, I lost who I was. Please understand, I am, and I was, very happy as a Mom and a Soldier, but, there are deep sacrifices each Mom must make to do both of those very well. This is especially true for those of us who have free spirits, which need to be caged to succeed at certain things in life.

It is frightening to know I gave up so much of myself to do what I needed to do, to be a successful mom and Soldier. When I finally retired from the military and the kids were grown, I discovered I was only a shell of who I was. Now, I need to reach deep and pull the old me up from the depths of darkness and grey. I need to discover the color of her spirit and let it shine.

Medical Marijuana – Weed 3 — Living with dignity and less pain

/ Amanda / Leave a comment

If you have anyone in your family who is sick with any severe condition, please, watch this video.

No matter what your views are on the recreational use of marijuana, the use of medical marijuana can no longer be ignored. People, including children, are being saved daily with the use of medical marijuana. This is happening all over the world and is finally being allowed in the US.

88,000 people die every year from alcohol alone (that doesn’t include the domestic abuse injuries and deaths alcohol causes), 16,007 people died from OPIOD overdoses in 2012 alone, yet, Marijuana, when used alone, killed ZERO people, EVER. Let’s stop lying to ourselves, we were duped into believing that marijuana was worse than alcohol, or even tobacco. 

There have been cases when children have accidently ingested their parents marijuana. What happened? Nothing. They went to the ER and had a bad trip. Was it a scary situation? You bet. They need an IV for dehydration, and some serious amounts of snacks after coming down, but, all in all, they were fine. What happened when children ingested too much alcohol? There have been cases when children have actually died from too much alcohol. This includes college students and teens who have died from alcohol poisoning. Yet, alcohol is everywhere and easily accessible, and marijuana, even medical marijuana is made to look like it comes from the devil himself.

I am not saying marijuana is safe. It is not. It is a drug. Just like all drugs, it should be respected, but, if we are going to allow something as dangerous as alcohol to be made in our father’s bathtubs, or to be kept on the kitchen counter, please don’t be a hypocrite and fight against something like medical marijuana, which could actually save lives.

The FDA and the US GOV is finally studying it, but, Israel has been studying medical marijuana, and using it for their patients, for many, many years.

Medical Marijuana does help with PTSD, Severe Pain, MS, RA, Fibromyalgia, Epilepsy, Depression, Wasting Diseases, Diabetes, Cancer, and Alzheimer’s, and many more issues can be helped with medical marijuana.

For my entire life (44 years) I was against all illegal drugs. There was nothing good about anything that was illegal. In some sense I was right. In all cases, there is no reason to let any drug, alcohol, marijuana, or any other drug, to ruin your life. I still believe that. If you allow anything to stop you from becoming a productive member of society or taking care of your family, then you need to readdress what you are doing, and find a new way. You can’t break the law just because you think it is unfair. If your job does not allow medical marijuana, or even cigarettes, you either need to stop doing those things, or make the decision to move states. You need to be a truly productive member of society and care for yourself and your family first. YOu can either move for medical help or work to change the laws where you live, but, I digress.

When I was younger I was strictly against all illegal substances, and I believed everything I saw on TV. There was no medical value in illegal drugs. Then in 2011, I got hurt in Iraq and about the same time, I also became very sick. The military opened my eyes to how much control medical professionals have over pain meds and your body. You become a slave to pain meds, which means you become a slave to the medical machine and the medical machine are slaves to politicians and the random laws. I am not even referring to something as serious as addiction. I am just referring to the relationship between a patient and a doctor. If a patient does or says anything that displeases the doctor, or if the doctor has a bad day, that patient’s entire medical case can be changed at the drop of a hat. It doesn’t even stop at the doctor. The politicians, the FDA, the ADA, even KOCH brothers have their hands in everything that deals with your medications and what is prescribed or approved at any one time. Once a patients becomes sick, the hard truth is, the prescriptions which are allowed or approved by the FDA are all controlled by money. Plain and simple money.

At any time, a politician can be bought or sold by the Koch brothers, or any other big super pac backer, and very quickly my pain medications can be changed and outlawed and I have zero control in how my medicine is handled at the federal and state level. Worse, if my medical provider decides for a personal reason, not a medical reason, to stop prescribing medications, then I have to find a new doctor, or suffer withdrawals and suffer excruciating pain, which is exactly what happened to me. No warning. No help. No titrating down. One day my medical provider decided he wasn’t going to provide narcotics anymore and that was that. His patients had to suffer or find new doctors, which is never an easy process.

As a chronic pain patient, which true severe pain conditions, my entire life is controlled at the politician and medical provider level. When my own medical provider decided to select his own life over mine, I knew then I had to fight for my own well being. That is when I started researching natural pain medications. I found that medical marijuana had been used for thousands of years for joint related pain diseases, such as RA and gout, or other pain disorders. Even now, the US owns a Patent on Medical Marijuana for their own researchers to do tests on the plants. They even have their own fields where they grow only the best plants to test on (which is shown in the video) . — This leads me to believe they know it will work for the listed medical issues (again shown in the video) . I do not like my life being controlled by politicians and big money. I don’t think a patient should be a slave to big pharmaceutical companies, to politicians, and then to the whims and personal agendas of medical providers. A patient has the right to live in dignity. Now, I am a huge supporter of medical marijuana and I fight everyday to change the laws so every patient, in every state, has the same rights to live in dignity and even die with dignity, and less pain.

FUCK! Fuckaty, fuck, fuck, fuck! The fun of shopping in big box stores when you are highly sensitive to every damn thing!

/ Amanda / 11 Comments

There are days when I wish I could stand in the middle of one of the big box stores and just yell, “FUCK! Fuckaty, fuck, fuck, fuck!” like a million times. I mean seriously, those places were not meant for people who are over sensitive to anything!

Let’s start with entering the door. Bing, bong, bing, bang, ding, dong! I mean, geez!! Did I just walk into the worst bell concert ever?! There are bells going off everywhere!

If you actually make it through the swooshing doors and not get ran directly over by a thief (yes, that shit has happened to me no less than 3 times), then you are immediately greeted with the banging of carts being slammed together, or the screeching of the sounds of someone trying to pry those mother fuckers apart. I mean really! It seems like when the buggy boys gather all the carts together, those carts stick together like some damn bonding at the molecular level happens when no one is watching. Just minutes prior they were free ranging carts, who, with just a slight breeze, could travel the entire distance of the parking lot with the freedom of wild horses, but, the moment they touch another cart, you would think they were mating like the aforementioned horses and not letting go until they had made little baby carts.

When you finally spray cold water on those mating carts, and one finally lets go, besides completing your entire weekly workout trying to pick a cart, you now how the absolute fun of facing the inside of the actual store.

You enter the store, and the voice from above announces the special of the day, someone’s car is ready for pick up, or hey, shit head, there is a clean up in aisle 3. This is all being announced being the top 40 chart topping hits from, “hey, we have never heard of you” file. At times, your lovely shopping trip is interrupted, or should I say, shoved down your ear drum like a alien completly an anual probe on your anus, by a loud fuckign commericial about some product they are trying to get rid of this week, that no one wanted last week either. Finally, you have trained your brain to tune all that garbage out. You only want to get some damn milk, bread, and eggs. The three things most humans need in their kitchens on a weekly basis, but the damn stores have so nicely split these three things and strategically places them around the entire store (the size of three football fields) so you must pass by chocolate, cake, ice cream, and of course, those little frosted cakes you like so much. There is no way around it. To get to these 3 items, you will be tested at every level you can imagine. Finally, you have reached the bread without killing another human being today. But, right behind you, someone decides they want to ram their cart into your backside. You look around, a fight in your heart, you are ready to throw down and rumble. Come on lady, let’s make history right here in the bread aisle. You glance around, and what do you see? A little old lady, sweety grinning at you, and very nicely apologizing for running into you while going through her coupons. You calm your heart, you open your eyes, and you smile, all the while thinking, “You got lucky this time lady. But, only this time. We will meet again.” You smile nicely, and try to make it through the group of squealing little girls picking out a cake for someone’s birthday party. Childhood. You contemplate screaming at them, “you better appreciate it now, because after 30, it’s all downhill little girls,” but, sigh, you don’t have time and you haven’t saved up for bail this month. Sigh. The little things in life that help me keep my mouth shut. The public should be very happy with the complete control I show everyday I leave the house. But, no. I have the super power of being polite and sweet to others, and just like Superman, I must keep my secret to myself. No awards for keeping the world a safer place for me. Oh wait. I would be keeping the world a safer place from myself… so yea. I guess you don’t get awards for that. Well, dammit, I should.

Shit, where am I? I have been staring at this chocolate ice cream for like 15 minutes. If I get the ice cream, I will just cover it in chips or cereal and eat the whole darn gallon in less than a day. Ughhh… NO. I will not get it. So, I want my gold star in life for not buying the ice cream. YEA! Why can’t we get gold stars in life for doing the right thing? It would be like the tooth fairy, but, much less pain, and more rewarding. You do really great things in life and you wake up in the morning to gold stars on your headboard for all the great things you accomplished. The Gold Star Fairy (GSF) would get very tired, but, I guess he or she could delegate some of the work. Those who were little shit heads all day, could be serviced by mean fairies who would leave piles of doggy poo on their favorite shoes. Oh crap. These are really some really good ideas. Except, I would need to be nicer to everyone, or my shoes would get some doggy poo sometimes too. Yuck. I will revisit the GSF when I figure out how to be nice to everyone.

Sigh…. where in the hell is the milk? Crying baby!! NO! NO! NO!! Not the crying baby. I turned down the wrong aisle. There is a crying baby, woman screaming on her cell phone, and some kid hitting his sibling. OH No. My nightmares have all converged on me in one aisle!! I must turn back. I must get out. No. Someone has turned in behind me. Which means I have to keep going forward! I need to use the tactics I learned in the military when faced with an assault. GO! GO! GO! Push through!! I am pushing!! As fast as possible. I am past the screaming baby. I am past the fighting siblings, and woo hoo!! I am passing screaming, cell phone, lady! I might make it out of the aisle without having a complete nervous breakdown!! I see the light at the end of the tunnel, pushing through, almost there! NOOOOOO!!!! Electronic buggy is turning into the end of the aisle. I have no where to go. I can’t go forward. I can’t push back. It is a traffic jam! I am stuck right beside screaming, cell phone, lady!!! My nerves are shot. My heart rate is up. I might just explode! I plaster my smile as wide on my face as I can, and the words which come out of my mouth are strangers in my head. Through clenched teeth and with all the energy I have left to give to the world I say to electronic buggy dude, “is there anything on this alies I can get you to make your way easier?” He politely points to a box on the sleeve, I hold back every fiber of rage I have in my heart, I pass him the box, and he continue on his way to the next ailes. I push my way to the end of the aisle, and breathe a sigh of relief!! MLK Jr starts shouting in my head, “Free at last, free at last, Thank God almighty I am free at last!” If anyone could actually see the reaction in my brain, they would see mexican jumping beans doing some serious happy dancing. OK! Dammit. Now the mexican jumping beans are singing MLK Jr’s words, but with a very thick hispanic accent, while they are dancing a jog. That is just wrong. Very freaking funny (it’s times like this when I wish I could paint). But, it is very wrong. I shake my head to stop the singing beans and keep pushing through the crowds to make it to my goal.

I pass by someone wearing perfume so strong two people could have shared it. I am able to push on past and push this to the back of my head without throwing up. The lights, sounds, and screaming are only made worse when one more stimulus tries to push it’s way into my brain. I can’t control all the senses at once, so at this point, I am really suffering. I am sweating, my hands are shaking, and really, I would love to run out of the store screaming and never purchase milk, bread, and eggs ever again.

FOCUS! FOCUS! Now, where is the milk and eggs? I finally find the milk and eggs, and very quickly push my way down the main aisle to get back up to the register. On the way to the registers, I pass the scented trash bags (thank you asshole who decided everything in the grocery aisles needed to be scented), I pass motion detection tv monitor that scream commercials as you walk past which turn you into a better ninja then compared to walking into a spider web. Please, dear God! I really want to witness someone ripping one of those damn things off the end caps so freaking bad! Please, give me the strength and not let it be me. I look terrible in orange, and I am too pretty and too damn mental to end up in jail, but, please, let me witness someone losing their shit at those automatic commercials, and tearing them off the wall, stomping on them, pouring milk and cola on them, and throwing them to the other side of the store. Oh goodness. If Karma is really good, I have earned the right to witness this.

I finally make it to the register, again without murdering anyone or damaging property, and ding, ding, ding, my items are rung up with ease. Debit or credit? Debit. Cash? NO! Car wash? NO! Would you like to donate to the local charity today? NO! GEEZ! I just want to get my groceries and go home! Finally. My sale is final and I push my cart to the front of the door.

As I look back on the circus that is big box stores, I happily see the manager running after a thief who is much younger and in much better shape than the older manager. Oh, that poor bastard. Hey dumb-ass! Stealing sucks. Deal with the hell of shopping and paying for your shit like the rest of us! Watching the thief run out the door and almost run over a lady walking into the store, reminds me how lucky it wasn’t me this time. In a small way, I am a little melancholy about the thief not running into me. That is how many of my shopping trips start and this trip felt like something was missing. Yep. My occasional encounter with a manic running out the door had become part of my shopping experiences that I had come to expect. Oh well. At least the other shopper got her nerves revved up for her shopping experience. She will need the extra adrenaline to survive her trip in big box hell.

I make it to my car, put my cart into the cart corral (no free ranging for you today), and immediately wish I was a smoker. Damn. My nerves are shot and I am exhausted. I have never smoked, but, it’s times like this I wish I did. As I pull away from the store, the thought runs through my head that I could grow my own wheat and buy a cow and I would not have to shop. Could I do it? Yes. The answer is yes. If only I didn’t have to shop for all the items to grow those things, I might consider it. But, more shopping is not on the top of my to-do list. So, no cow for me.

45 minutes of shopping for 3 items. It’s time for a nap….. and a drink.

 

Until next time…be safe, be kind, and always be happy.

 

 

Rocking to “All About That Bass” this morning

/ Amanda / Leave a comment

I am a big believer in “Don’t worry about your size!” There are very healthy women at all sizes. Get your regular yearly check-ups and if things start going side-ways, then start worrying. Happiness in life is a lot more important to health, then the silly number on a scale. Yes, exercising is good for almost everyone and making your body the best it can be is awesome, but, if you are short, tall, naturally thin, or naturally bigger, there isn’t much you can do to become more than what you really are. Be the best human you can be, be as healthy as you can be, and always be kind to others, is way more important than starving yourself to fit in jeans you were never meant to purchase.

Trying to be something you are not, whether it is trying to gain weight or lose weight, puts more stress on your body compared to just accepting who you are and being the best you can be! Do the best to make the best of what you have been handed in life and rock it like no tomorrow!

So, rock that booty!!