Geez

I was home after 5 hours. My plastic surgeon was her usual professional, brusque self. I am happy with getting this phase done. (If anyone's in or around Philly and wants a recommendation to talk things over or begin the process, shoot me an email. She and my surgical oncologist are amazing.)

Surprisingly, after my last surgery's painless (if VERY uncomfortable) recovery, this time I can definitely feel that there was a scalpel in my body! So yeah, I'm having some pain.

As usual, everyone was incredibly nice/efficient/ some combo of both.

Works for me.

My mother is a gem in every way. Even walking to the car was rough this time, and her Southern self braved the mean city streets to take me and bring me home. We scheduled this around my graduation so that she'd be here.

So there it is...I'm okay, still not regretting one iota of this year or this decision even though I HAVE A FUCKING DRAIN (which the nurse practitioner assured me I would not get this time!).

I will not get breast cancer. I will not. Get.Breast cancer. (And yeah I know there is still the smallest percentage that I can, but guess what? I .Won't.)

Sooo worth it. I've got new squishies to prove it!

xo,
13

ps- thanks for your well wishes. I felt the good vibes as I went in.

Prophylactic Bilateral Mastectomy: Exchange Surgery

So I'm an hour and a half out from surgery and I'm up, mostly because I'm hungry. Course I can't eat or drink anything, so I cleaned and gave myself this manicure instead.

Then I thought it looked dumb so I wiped it off.

Here's to not having rocks on my chest!

Ouch

Young things, here is something to remember once you hit thirty: hangovers hurt.

It's been a whirlwind of a week and I'm finally feeling this Dr. thing.  There were family and friends and a party and great food and gifts and wow now now now...I feel celebrated!

I was lucky enough to sit next to the former Black Grad Association chair-- she passed the torch on to me for a couple of years so celebrating with her was particularly special.  It was hot, though, and we were melting in our gowns, which are made from RECYCLED PLASTIC. Um.

And of course I also took a moment to remember those I've lost (including my breasts!).  I don't get people's fervor over walks and runs, but I have to admit that this one was pretty special.  Mom and  I did the Komen walk on Mother's Day and then went out for brunch with Granny and Mother in Law.  It was awesome.

And so now it's back to work, and back to the insufferable job hunt.  

It's a jungle out there.

Thanks for all of your well wishes! It's been a fun ride!

xo,

13

Dr. Thirteen

Just a quickie post amidst the graduation/ mother's day hullabaloo!

A crazy, fun, wild (ha) weekend!

SHUT UP

I was at the gym yesterday and this woman came up to me. Somehow or other we got to talking about this workout- to- relieve- stress stuff.  She says, "Yeah, I've always felt that working out to feel good-- not for weight loss-- is better." 

And then her azz went back to sipping her Gatorade and walking on the treadmill.

See, this is what I am talking about.  People who have never been more than 30 pounds overweight seriously have nothing to say to me.  Do you know about being fat? No. Do you know what it's like to be acutely aware of all of your jiggly parts when you run/bike/walk/ lift? To be called "the fat one," have trouble finding plus sized clothes, or have people stare at your plate when you eat? No? Then GTFOWTBS!

The fact that she was *walking* and *drinking her calories* (at the same time, no less) is a sure sign that she's been regular- sized most of her life.  And NO, it was not a cool-down and NO, she did not mention an illness/limitation/injury. 

Guess what? Fat people get to want to lose weight by exercising. And yes, it's hard, cuz diet is the key part of weight loss. But she (and lots of bloggers I read) BURN ME UP when they try to compare exercise to STAY thin/get fit to exercise to GET thin. Vanity pounds (i.e., the freshman 15 or OMG my size 0s don't fit) and weight- loss pounds (shit I have high blood pressure and pre- diabetes and PCOS) are so, so different.

Take it from me. Being fat at the gym was a lot scarier, a lot meaner than it is now. And I'm not even at my goal weight.

So all that "people should just enjoy themselves" crap seems like it's just that...crap. Random gym girl, get some WATER for your high horse, push that treadmill into the running zone, and STFU.

Rant over. Moving on.

Two- Timing

Yep, two- timing, that's me.

Overwhelmed by stress of these last weeks, I have two options: wallow and panic or push through slowly and do something productive. 

To manage it all, I've been hitting the gym-- twice a day.  I know it's not a schedule I will want to keep up-- or even be able to keep up-- but for now it's pretty awesome.  I am calling it my "since- I- won't- be- able- to- exercise- for- two- weeks- double- exercise"  shenanigans.  That is the only part of the exchange surgery I am not looking forward to...the dumb, sleepy slowness that comes from general anesthesia.  And the restrictions. Of not being able to work out. Wait, I said that.

So anyway, I'm working out. Lots. It's so weird how recently I am not even thinking about weight loss.  Those people I once thought were jackasses because they said "OMG exercise is such stress relief" are making me eat my words.  I eat chicken sometimes too.

Mom is coming up. She's never been north in the Spring, go figure. I think she'll like it.

xoxo,

13

Exchange Surgery: Coming to a Chest Near You

So my Pre- op visit to my plastic surgeon was this week. They are so nice there.

{top- anthro; pants- lord and taylor; shoes- jcrew}

 A few days after my graduation, I will go under the knife again, this time for implants. I'm excited, not nervous at all. The plastic surgeon is a perfectionist. This I like.

On mother's day mom and I will do the Komen race for the cure. I am not typically sentimental about such things (I don't really "get" walks/ runs...except for the actual "running" part) but she insisted.

Anyway, here's my attempt at peplum, and these mint pants again. When I get something new I wear it a bunch of ways in a row to see how it works best. I am liking this a little better than the last go round.

Thanks to everyone for the well wishes! It is finally sinking in that I'm "Dr." It is still weird. With my fellowship finishing up next month, my surgery, and no more school...I feel like my life is about to become new.

xoxo,
13

As Always

The end of things is so anticlimactic.

blazer- gap; skirt- anthro; tee- jones new york

I successfully defended my dissertation. With no job, my current one ending this month, and no prospects in sight. I've been so focused on getting done that I had to choose between job hunting and finishing up.

My committee apparently really liked the thing, though. That's nice. 

With the university's recent scandal we are disallowed from calling ourselves doctor until the degree is conferred.  But I'm done. I celebrated with friends, and quite frankly, dinner was more exciting than my defense.

It's scary.

But I am blessed.

Onward.

xoxo,
13

Minty Fresh

I'm still breathing.  Barely!

A quick morning snap of  two lacy tanks and some minty pants I found shoved in the back of a drawer...plus my favorite animal- print sweater.  Here again not very fashionable but a bit more put together than the undergrads hogging the library in their sweats.

I am having a lot of fun with fitness these days-- a lot! I am also having a lot of fun with goat cheese, dates, and walnuts as part of a salad combo I absolutely can't get enough of.

Just a quick check- in from the library (wave!).

13

Annnnnnnnnnnnnd...next!

So.

I am graduating. It is real now.  Still swamped, but at least I can plan a menu for my graduation shindig, no?

I am currently revising, but my mind keeps shifting to the next thing: a job! When most postings went out last year, I was pretty sure that surgery + loose ends would mean  being a December grad. But alas...now I'm almost done.

And there's me ^^. Not particularly fashionable and wearing nothing new.  But ready for this new chapter.

(And yes. It appears that I am shrinking. I don't know how much and can't care at the moment. I am guessing that this is pretty close to a happy weight for me, though I will keep working at fitness.)  

I am, however, ready for these expanders to GET OUT.  After weeks of not sleeping, I started taking the muscle relaxant the docs gave me post- surgery.  It was the only thing that got me through the night without feeling hung over the next day.  Sometimes I still struggle with sleeping, which is hard, because such long hours writing mean that theoretically my brain should be as sharp as it can. Ha!

Just a quickie update for dat azz. 

xoxo,

13

Ruthless and Ongoing

Sometimes near bedtime my granny calls me from her senior living community drunk as a skunk. She is 82 years old and wears pearls and went to Harvard, she reminds me each time. She can be drunk if she wants to.

{Pearls and tea roses for Granny}

And she talks and talks, and goes on and on, and usually only about 20 percent of what she says makes any sense at all, but last night on one of these drunken rampages she says to me: "You are a young person; you need to do what you want  more instead of feeling obligated all of the time."

And then she said, "Can you drive us to the mall tomorrow?"

lol,

13

Sad

My father is ill again, too ill to come to my graduation.  He is afraid it's cancer again.  I know there are other cancers, but I am awfully glad I no longer have to worry about this one.

He has told me not to come home to Tennessee without a doctorate. I am month away from that, so I am obliging him.  I feel far away-- from the South, from my family.  And today I feel like a month is a long time from completion of this thing.  

He sounded so deeply, deeply sad.

Breasts!

So.

I had my last fill this time last week. Annnnnnnnnnd...got an exchange surgery date! With my fill I look even more porn- star-ish, and my knockers are- well, hard as rocks and high as kites.

 I am sleeping poorly, still, which is a VERY BAD THING! as I work long hours to get this thing done.

breast art in L.A.-- who knew breast art existed?

 In other news, I have a week wholly free of fellowship commitments, so I can just...write. One month to go.

I am so excited about the exchange surgery, which is supposed to be a remarkably easy recovery-- some say as short as a long weekend. My plastic surgeon said that I am "going to have a beautiful result."  I never, never thought that I could actually end up appreciating my breasts after years of viewing them as giant death bombs. What a strange, strange experience this is.  I have learned so.freaking.much. And I appreciate my LIFE so much more.

I am unsentimental about most things, so I'll shut this post down here before I get worked up.

More later, but I couldn't help a quick post...I'm SO EXCITED NOW!

I'm Alive...Barely.

I am merrily (ha!) putting finishing touches on an unexpected chapter of the Big Diss.  Unexpected chapters suck because they are a) unplanned; b) throw timelines WAY off track; and c) make this thing more and more interesting, therefore decreasing the likelihood that I will put it to bed.

I have no life: I eat, sleep, and breathe this thing.

One.More.Month.  And then to bed it goes, no matter what. Research is a game of search and reveal, seek and find (and find and find!) so at some point...stopping it just what you have to do.

{tweed jackets and pointy toes make me feel all Dr.-y}

And then there's this fellowship, which Good Knight of Mighty is running me down.

But there is a finish line in sight, and I have quietly already begun to think of my self as "Dr." Not hubris this time.

Sweat.

xoxo,

13

The Earth and My Ass: Spring Cleaning

I never believed those people who claimed to exercise to manage stress.  Stress to me = ice cream, bad movies, booze, and some time with friends.  Maybe some action, IYKWIM.  NOT an hour on the elliptical or a 6- mile run.

But.

But.

As my deadline looms, I can say this with my hand over my heart: exercise helps me stay focused.  When I miss that morning workout, my mind is slower, I get more impatient, and the silence of writing time gets too loud.

I sort of hate this skirt. But I can't make myself toss it.
{Skirt- Hunter Dixon via Anthro; Top- Tiny via Anthro}

It is what it is, no?  Proof: my new favorite show is Burn Notice, which I watch exclusively on the elliptical.  The show is constructed in such a way that it's quite a nuisance to pause it-- so I push through the 42 minutes so that I can see Michael Weston break his way out of an underwater steel cage (with his hands in cuffs and a bullet wound) and come out unscathed. Nay, he isn't even wet. 

And then it's upstairs for abs or arms while I catch up with the local news, which can, quite frankly, usually be done in 18 minutes or less.

And while I would like to hit pause on my OMGarm jiggle, I have to be honest with myself: I don't really have time to get caught up in weight loss drama.  I am on a deadline. My "breasts" are rocks. I've had fills, pain, soreness, a back rash, a boob rash, hypersensitivity, trouble sleeping, trouble pooping, and trouble staying awake.

So a nice bonus to all of this stress is a bounce in my step or an extra helping, depending on which day you're talking to me.

Not sure how long it'll last, but I'm holding out for 5 weeks...

xoxo,
13

Spoke too soon

In a bizarre twist of fate, my elliptical got stuck on the highest setting.

I could hardly make it a half hour this morning. So much for feeling fitter!

Pitiful.

I've had some dissertation woes and am left uncertain of how to proceed.  Except to proceed. 

xoxo,

13

Weight Loss Wednesday: The Problem with "Good"

Mostly I feel like I look pretty good: good for my age, good at this weight.  This general level of satisfaction with my outward appearance can very well lead to the type of apathy that keeps me just a leeetle bit over where I want to be.

{dress- some shop in Paris; belt- jcrew; wedges- bandolino via tj maxx}

With my surgery and recovery, I've used exercise purely as an energy booster to keep trucking on the dissertation.  Seriously.  Like, I have not been focusing on weight loss AT ALL. And yet. Yet. I am losing weight. I wonder whether to make a more concerted effort to speed things along (everyone looks fat in a graduation gown, for reals!) or just let the weight keep dribbling off.

Last year I promised myself that I'd use these photos as a yardstick for how I was faring, but I focused a lot on the clothes, too.  With my whole top half so in flux (and a promise to myself to purchase more investment pieces) I don't have much new stuff to showcase this Spring.  I've altered pants down instead of buying new ones; stopped buying tops and jackets completely; and own, other than my mastectomy bras (ew! and ouch!) only three bras. For now I'm good with this pared- down approach.  

But with regard to my exercise-- I have recently wanted to be as fit as possible- yeah, weird, yanno? I mean, I want to go longer, move faster, lift heavier.  As a challenge to myself rather than as a method of weight loss.  I guess this is what heavy exercisers at a healthy weight do all of the time, but hey, it's new territory for me.

xoxo,

13

Hubris

I had someone tell me today that they didn't know I could be a professor with a doc in my field.  I wanted to smack them.

{sweater- LOFT; pants- alice and olivia; necklace, shoes, anthro}

Instead I said, "Who do you think teaches me?"


Knocked me down a few pegs.

xoxo,
13

Prophylactic Bilateral Mastectomy: 9 Weeks Post

So. I'm good. Stamina's back.

Hypersensitivity is gone.

The nagging back pain from two weeks ago- fini. I hope.

Yesterday I had a fill and I thought I'd check in: my porn- star boobs look funny.  I call them that because they sit SO HIGH. They are hard as plastic bowls and look like them too.  I have some irritation on one side from adhesive on the band- aid following a fill two weeks back.  Also, sleeping is difficult. I've been taking an OTC sleep aid to get the 7.5 I need to be a human being.

{Cords- Gap; blazer- J.Crew; blouse- tucker;}

I'm exercising 4 hours a week, mostly on the elliptical.  I can tell I'm shrinking.

I am at 480 ccs now and have small, don't-mind-me breasts, which I wanted. One more fill (maybe) and then...all done.  I'll have to wait a month before exchanging to implants and hey...that also happens to be around the time I graduate...

I am in the home stretch for many things, it appears.

I am so exhausted that I can't breathe.

As Much as You Can Bear

The old folks say that God only gives you what you can bear.

The last two weeks have been monsters, and then comes the weekend: the fill.  That means two days on the couch, inhaling painfully if I'm unlucky, as I have been the last few weeks.  But if I'm lucky-- as I was this week-- there was a night of relative restfulness and Saturday morning arriving with me feeling just fine.

{cardi- gap; top- maeve via anthro; pants-elie tahari}

This week's discomfort has given me pause when considering people who live with chronic pain. 

I took the weekend off of writing, which I haven't done since the start of this thing.  I had a great day yesterday in which I took some advice from a good friend:  I took my ass shopping. Didn't buy a thing, but tried on some tops (okay, a few pants got thrown in there too) and bras and jackets. 

After this week's fill my breasts sit so high that I look a bit like a porn star.  I can't imagine what I'll look like after one more, the final one before heading back to the doc so that she can determine when my swap from these plastic cups to squishy implants will be.

A few notes from the dressing room are certain to follow.  And maybe a Spring wishlist from stuff I peeped out and maybe some pics from my book club brunch happening later today...