Monday, 6 July 2015

Sometimes I feel like I'm 80

Today's breakfast:

Magnesium citrate and some other magnesium preparation, for a total of around 1 g of Mg, as per prescription.
Lansoprazol to inhibit the production of gastric juices and itopride to make the stuff pass further down faster. Yay GERD.
Fluoxetine, a generic brother of the well-known Prozac for depression.
Clonazepam for anxiety.

Don't worry, there won't be any rant about how mainstream medicine stuffs me with pills and I don't feel great anyway. I actually find this somewhat funny for no reasonable reason.

The neurologist said that when one is stressed, the body needs much more magnesium and that I'm pretty deficient. The question was What to do with the goddamn tinnitus, for that matter. Tinnitus is thriving but my wonky arm is less wonky, and it is a nerve thing, not actually pain but an annoying feeling, somewhere between itch and pain, not very pronounced but almost constant, from the shoulder to the outer of my hand. Apparently, depression makes one fall apart physically as well.

Saturday, 4 July 2015

On being fat, part I.

Part I.: purely physical. Let's be frank. I reached some 113 kilos, of which 50 is pure unadulterated lard - and yes, I have heavy bones. I have the body composition analysis to prove it. It's sorta one and half kilos above average for my sex, age and inactivity group so it's negligible.
How does it feel? Well, crappy. I'm all for HAES, fat acceptance, non-discrimination, empowerment and all this stuff but being some 35 kilos overweight, I feel crappy. For now, I'll skip musings on beauty ideal, prejudices and this sort of stuff but I'll go straight to the matter of matter.

There are little annoying problems, bodily problems that may appear somewhat disgusting to the gentle soul. Take the Decorative fat rings (DFR). The skin folds trap sweat and one gets rashes and itchy stuff. I hear that antiperspirant may work but I sweat so much that it's only a bit of help. The same can be said about inner thighs. Ouch. And yes, the eternal question of How do you manage to wipe your arse, usually formulated by two people watching a third, fat person, as Hey, look at that whale, do you think she's able to wipe her arse. Well, depends on one's flexibility and length of arms, in which department I don't have that much problem and my DFR, while considerable, still don't prevent me from bending over, if clumsily.
Speaking of clumsiness: Yes, that. One needs to handle the various protruding masses when doing things. I don't look exactly elegant when I'm picking something from the floor.
And the pains. My joints complain somewhat. Then there's pain. I walk a kilometre and my legs hurt in the overexerted way, it's the bitter-sour pain of doing too much of a too heavy work, not that pleasant minty-sweet pain of getting the blood flow faster and having achieved something.
And, it takes some energy to feed the mass. Yes, I noticed that I'm more hungry than the rest of the family at a last week's outing.

And... lather, rinse, repeat. I walk around the town - my calves and back hurt. Around a corner, my calves and back still hurt. I do some shopping and the stuff is annoyingly heavy to carry. Also, my calves and back keep hurting. I walk the stairs up and down a few times, as our house is somewhat vertical and I'm short of breath. Also, my calves still hurt, my feet are crampy (no idea why) and it feels bad. Next time: the background.

Tuesday, 16 June 2015

Uh-oh

I thought I'd post some cool pics of spring flora but I still don't have a working laptop. Been urging it, said that I can buy one on my own, after all, BossMom said Nope, wait a while, why would you waste your savings, I caved and I still have the old sucky piece of crap.

And frankly, hardly any pics of interesting plants because I haven't done much photography or botanizing for that matter. Yes, those who expect another round of depressed rants are sort of right. Just now I feel like... you know, when you drink a bottle of wine and after a while the alcohol is partially metabolized and all the assorted toxins in your bloodstream make you somewhat sleepy, able to concentrate on not falling down but not much more. Well, to an extent, I have this all the time. The anxiety meds help me to concentrate and since the something-zepams are somewhat addictive, I'm not happy. Gotta talk to my shrink. I mentioned it to a friend and she said that it might be some attention disorder thingy masked as something else but I guess it's plain disgust.
And so it rolls. Summer is raging outside and I just want to hide under my table until all this goes away. 'All this' being work, mental state and all the related crap mixed together and used in buckets. Hey, I don't find any joy even in knitting, playing with the kitty or gardening.

On an unrelated note: been to Spain with family and brought back some interesting seeds and cuttings that should be taken care of. I should procure sandy calcareous soil somewhere for some of them, and a heated glasshouse for some other ones, apparently. My Gibraltarian Ornithogalum seems to finally have adapted to the long day - time to grow cycle, by the way. While the maintenance idiots watered the ugly awful stinky geraniums at the hotel, they ignored the pot with my freshly sown tulips and killed the seedlings, I still have some narcissi and Siberian irises, one of my plans being to spread Siberian irises all over the place. Or some other place. Or some other irises, I love irises. I missed their season entirely this year because I failed to notice them or some such. Someone seems to be stealing away my time.

Saturday, 18 April 2015

The sage sweater

I'm known as somewhat fanatical knitter - and a slow one.
To be exact, I do not knit slowly, on the contrary. It just takes me time to finish a given piece, the main reason being that I have several on the needles.
.
.
.
I tried to count but the result was inconclusive. Around six unfinished sweaters/tops and similar amount of shawls, scarves, cowls and the like. One is missing a bit of sleeve, I run short of yarn and now I'm undecided whether to order the one or two balls I may be needing or a whole bag because the yarn is nice (and discontinued). The other needs some measuring done and possibly ripping. Another one was a bad yarn choice and now I wonder what to do next. I did finish one in 2015 though. I got the yarn, it's from the family of Katia's merinos (Merino Sport or Merino Soft), I got ten balls plus some nicely matching angora blend from Anny Blatt, knitted the body and thought about making something creative with the sleeves. At the end, after at least two years elapsed, I tossed said angora aside and substituted it by a Bluefaced Leicester yarn from somewhere-on-fleabay dyed using alum mordant and St. John's Wort.

It's the
Dither pattern, a bit tweaked on the go and I'm sure to use it again someday soon.

And obviously, an unfinished picture. I fail to get finished ones, even less so pics of someone wearing the stuff. May work on it in future.

A new hobby

Around a year ago, I got a loom. I started without ambitions so the option was Ashford's Knitter's Loom - small, portable, easy to deal with even if one is a clumsy semi-moron.
It's magic because it works. I made fabric.

A still life with folded loom, storage box and The Thing I Wove

I meant it for a skirt but it ran some 10 cm short for my girth and I'm very positive that my dressmaker would tell me to go to hell with this because the selfedge is too tight and the fabric is not dense enough for any serious sewing. I'm untouched by education, practice and skills so I'm not hindered by any of those pesky right ways to do things. The plan is to do the darts on the outside, hand-quilt it to some visually inert interlining to hold the shape and hope that it works. Or maybe I'll lose patience before I lose those 10 cm of girth and I'll leave it as a fringed scarf.
Which is not that important because I made fabric!

Friday, 17 April 2015

Hoarding cats would be worse, right?

And faithful readers know that I'd love to have at least half a dozen of them.

When it comes to perfume collecting, I have a few preferred brands for reasons that are not always rational. Lancôme because it brought me to vintages, albeit randomly (I think I liked the Kypre box back then, Gueldy, just because, and Shiseido for similar reasons.

I did a bit of shopping and here's the loot.

One Lorenzy-Palanca because it was for a pittance along with Conquête and the rest is Shiseido: Rose Royale in the blue bottle, Camellia Superieur in the box, some other Camellia in the green bottle and a 2012 anniversary thing in the orange-ish flacon.

Monday, 23 March 2015

Very illustrative

It wasn't in the user's manual for life that one starts falling apart before hitting 40.
I kept throwing prescription meds' packages in one box for the whole 2014 and...

My one year consumption of meds. Most of them are antidepressants and anxiolytics. The smaller part is meant to treat my damn GERD... and I'm not a particularly compliant patient because I forget everything. If I took the stuff as I should, there would be more. Feel free to be sorry for me.


And a gratuitous cat picture...