Happy Halloween!

Ah, Halloween, the holiday of ghouls and sweets.  

I, quite frankly, am sick of sweets, having had my fill in recent weeks.

My weight loss, not surprisingly, has ground to a halt. Screeching halt-- yes, that is more accurate.  It is only in the last few days that I've pulled back, started to remember that candy is not a food group. 

booties- belle by sigerson morrison

It seems that in a blink the weather has gone from later summer to Fall.  My sweaters still smell of moth balls, and many of my pants from last year don't fit-- the latter a victory, I suppose, if a small one.

{jeans- levi's; sweater- LOFT; top- anthro}

This year for Halloween I am a gold digger-- see my shovel and my price tag? I can be bought! Yes, it's cheezy, and nope, I didn't buy a thing to make this costume "go." My neighbors' costumes and cocktails party was a cinch, but even just creeping next door it was far too cold for my original costume idea-- Billie Holiday. My white dress was sleeveless, and um, no. It snowed.

{leopard skinnies-current elliott; top- vince; shoes-anthro}

Instead of shoveling down goodies I am eating a yummy salad and gearing up for tomorrow's freakishly chilly run...which I desperately need!

xoxo,
13

Ring my Bell(bottoms)

I had a GREAT Easter weekend...just amazing, really: good food, time to do nothing, and a great date with my Naughty Dog and Lovebug. And yesterday I started week 3 of the C25K I'm doing for Alexia's challenge. 

I am finding that I like running a lot. Like, a lot. I don't dream about it anymore (usually when I actually run the dream stops recurring) but I can't get enough.  I believe that the image of my legs moving is a reminder that I am moving forward, purposefully, and that I should concentrate on each individual moment.  That means not looking too far ahead (ohmygodI'mcuttingmybreastsoff) or behind (itwouldhavebeenbetternottoknow)...but enjoying the newness of Spring, the revelation of life unfolding in the buds around me.  Sappy, no?

Well, it's Easter. Sue me.

bell bottoms, top, belt- anthro

Evidently my body likes running too.  After feeling a little frustrated at the state of my tummy  (never a trouble zone) the last week or so, I remembered that I tend to get a little tummy when weight drops off in other places. Some OLD pants confirmed (hint: ones I thought I'd have to toss) I am losing mad inches in de legs!! Now if only the scale would follow suit. 

I am trying something new with these jeans: until now I've stuck to dark washes with no whiskering.  But when this pair went on sale, I thought "why not?" Most of my other pants were too big by then anyway.  They are a light wash, tight through the thigh, with a flared leg.  Not sure how I like them yet, but I'm feeling adventurous, at least. 

jacket-banana republic

 Follow suit, scale! 

Thanks again for ALL of your support and encouragement. My MRI is later today, and I haven't really slept at all.  I am nervous but not nervous, both steely and resigned.  I wanted to get up and run some of this negative energy off (well...walk/run) but since I was awake at the time I usually rise for the morning, I figured I'd sleep in.

But you see how well that's working, haha!

xo,
13

Monster Post: Old Genes/New Jeans

I have hinted here and there about some health issues that were astir last month. I debated whether to share them on the blog, but realized that I need to.   Looooong story short, after over a decade, a doctor finally shook her head over my family's remarkable susceptibility to cancers and had me tested for a gene. 

My mom, dad, both grandmoms, aunts, three great- aunts, and uncles all had cancer, many of them related cancers.  But the most crushing was my older sister's, because she was young.  She died of the rarest form of breast cancer when she was only a couple of years from the age I am now.

Nothing, nothing has ever impacted me more than my sister's death. Nothing. 

So when this incredulous doctor suggested I test for the breast cancer gene, I leaped at the chance.  I have felt since my sister's death that my breasts were going to kill me young too. The results took a month.

Though I was negative for the BRCA (BReast CAncer) genes, the doctor is still treating me as a high risk case.  Which means 3 MRIs  + 2 mammograms per year that would detect, not prevent, breast cancer; chemoprevention drugs that risk my fertility and would likely put me into early menopause (and still reduce my risk by only half); or-- a big "or"-- cutting both breasts off.

I've opted for the "or," as it provides the lowest risk for my ever getting breast cancer (down to 1 percent).

Please--I am not putting this up for sympathy, or readership, or anything like that!   In effect, I was so shocked that no doctor recommended this test for my family until now.  In my research, I learned that African- Americans are referred the least for genetic counseling.  We are also the group more likely to die from our diagnoses of breast cancer.  See why I am less interested in detection?  My parents live in constant terror of their cancers returning. I would rather prevent.

I study gaps in knowledge among groups, and realized the irony early on.  How could I not have known?  My parents are as educated as I. My sister was a nurse. We read the news, follow studies, and don't miss our check- ups. And no one thought that with 3/4 of the folks  in our clan dying from *related* cancers that oh, maybe- this- is- hereditary!  And what's more...how could I be silent about something when silence has only hurt us?

It makes me want to go to fucking med school.

So my body is changing now, as I lose weight, but will be changing some more in the near future. I'll meet with a breast surgeon, a plastic surgeon, and select implants.  I am scheduled for my first  breast MRI next week, and I'd be lying if I said I weren't scared.  

In the meantime, I have a new reason to get into the best shape of my life.  

So while we're on the subject of genes...here's a preview of some jeans I can change:

Anyhow, I'm still me. Still working, collecting data, eating right and oh, yeah, that running thing. 

Still having fun with clothes, cooking for Lovebug, visiting friends, eating good food, and loving my life. 

My life. I have vowed to hold it dear, even if that means sacrificing my breasts.

Whew! That's a lot to get off of my chest, isn't it? Get it- off my chest? Oh, you know  ol' 13's sense of humor ain't goin' nowhere...and neither are the swear words. shirfuckdamshitfuck.

xoxo,

13