“Living” with Endometriosis – Part Deux


A more fervent “What. The. F-ck?” has never been uttered.

I’ve long held the belief that our physical illnesses are correlated somehow with our mental processes. For years I’ve maintained that Louise L. Hay is right on the money and is a healer way ahead of her time. While I will admit that I do struggle with her affirmations at times, I do pull out her trusty book when I have an ailment and meditate on what might be going on within me. 99% of the time I can see it as clear as a crisp autumn day.

Yet despite my knowledge of my dis-ease, despite three surgeries, despite a post already written about “Living with Endometriosis” I’m back, yet again, wondering what lesson it is that I haven’t learned; what it is I haven’t grasped. Read more

Beauty 1001: Satin Finish or The Real Me?


I’ve just scrubbed my face with a mini loofah and slathered copious layers of lotion on my skin.  I feel dried out, despite the forty ounces of cream I’ve applied at $100 a pop.  I mean dry; as in my skin feels like it’s been lying dormant in a crypt since the beginning of the pharaoh age.  I look in the mirror and I see bloodshot eyes with slate colored circles underneath, little webs of red lacy blood veins cover the apples of my cheeks, and tiny new wrinkles have been etched around my eyes with a mini chisel by efficient little Age Elves while I slept.

And of course, I need to leave the house, like ten minutes ago.  I need to take my pup for a walk.  “Toot Sweets”, as I affectionately call him, has been cooped up all day, and earlier, when I bent over to clean the bathroom floor, he actually tried to shove his squeaky toy… (never mind, different post.) The question is, do I really want to waste a half hour of my precious time putting on make-up for a 45 minute walk in a park where I will carry a lavender scented purple poop bag and likely see no one, unless I don’t wear makeup? Read more