Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

I know I said that I would vlog today, but really, I don’t want to spoil your appetite.

I feel like crap.

I look like crap.

My wastebasket smells like crap from the crap that I projected in there when I felt my stomach rumbling.

I know what you’re thinking, but there is no pink plus sign on a little stick in my bathroom.

I woke up later than usual this morning — 5 AM. Every morning, and I mean the wee hours of the morning, I’m up. Whether it’s 2 AM, 3 AM, or 4 AM, I can count on my malfunctioning internal alarm clock to disturb my sweet dreams at some point. I can’t blame Genny for my erratic sleeping patterns because she’s slept through the night since 3 months of age. Maybe my body is reminiscing the hospital stays when the vampires would draw blood at the most insane hours. Or maybe my mind is reflecting on the glory days at Howard when 4 hours of sleep was a restful night. Whatever it is, I’m screwed…and you know I’m not taking any pills for it.

If the sheep decide that they aren’t up to jumping for me to count, I usually seize the opportunity to catch up on the news or unwatched DVR shows (which there are a lot of thanks to Nick Jr.)

It seems like everywhere I looked, I was bombarded with people’s attempt to “reinvent themselves” or “stop the signs of aging” or “get the beach body you want.” Informercials for workout videos and products. Creams to reduce cellulite and smooth wrinkles. Ugh. Let me hurry and get to my DVRed stuff.

I started off with politics. The majority of the news surrounded the Republican presidential candidates. Besides my obvious frowns and shrugs at my opposing viewpoint, I couldn’t stop contorting my face in awe of Michele Bachmann’s seemingly frozen one. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her expressions, much like her rhetoric, were stale and redundant. Is she, too, a victim of botulism Botox?

So, I switched to “The View.” I had 6 episodes in waiting. Nothing like a good “ab workout” of laughter as the co-hosts served up the latest Weiner-related headlines with witty commentary. And aside from the scandalous photos, I was drawn to the pics of the congressman flashing his pecs in the locker room. Although he’s in great shape, it wasn’t his body that got my attention. It was the look in his eye. It wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t tantalizing. It was macho. Cocky. Downright vain and egotistical.

Later in the show, they showed men who had undergone the knife for a firmer face and a smoother, tighter neck.  Aaaaaaargh. I can’t take it anymore.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for looking your best. But at what cost? I know what it’s like to see your body morph rapidly. I was a size 4 pre-injury and could eat cheeseburgers, pizza, and every other fatty belly-buster without thinking of a gym. But I was 26. My metabolism was in overdrive! As you grow older, your body is supposed to change. That’s not a pass to become the next contestant on “The Biggest Loser”, but it doesn’t mean you have to get Heidi Montag-obsessed with surgery and working out.

Don’t believe the hype. I have had too many encounters with the OR to consider surgically “fixing” an aesthetic flaw. And you know I hate needles, so don’t even think of injected something in me to cause more paralysis. Yeah, right. I want you to be to able to tell when I’m sad or mad or happy or surprised.  Every frown line tells a story.  Each scar marks survival. Yeah, I could lose a few pounds and tighten a few muscles, but I’m comfortable in my soon-to-be wrinkled skin!

Keep It Moving!