Lesson Learned

A recent fashion trend looks very attractive to me. I find myself drawn to the creams and whites, whether they are flowy dresses, tunic tops or crocheted skirts. They seemed crisp and clean, all the while giving a dreamy kind of feel.
So, what do I do?
I go to  a second-hand store and find the perfect white shorts. So cute! Love them! They look good (if I do say so myself) and feel great. Here's the thing...white makes me nervous. And apparently...rightly so.
I was sitting in the driver's seat of someone else's car, when I got the bright idea to open a can of diet coke. Can you see where this is going? Yes, {sigh} I was wearing my "new" perfect pair of white shorts. From this latest experience, I highly recommend not hovering the can of diet coke over your perfect pair of white shorts while opening it. On behalf of my misfortune, please let this be a lesson learned. (As if I had to tell you this story for you to figure this lesson out.)
Why is it, I seem to have to learn the same life lessons over and over again? Like the lesson that keeping my blood sugar as stable as possible will slow down complications. In the heat of the moment, the thought "I want that piece of brownie. It will taste so good," too many times punches the thought "I might actually be a blind person one day and saying 'no' might help put that off" in the face and wins the fight. I don't want to keep learning that lesson the hard way. I really don't. But when times are good, it's easy to forget.
The lesson that love is better than hate, forgiveness better than revenge, giving better than greed, grace better than judgment, mercy better than spite, and joy better than bitterness, also tends to get lost in the far reaches of my heart and mind sometimes. I don't like that. I want to learn that lesson once and for all. But sadly, I am flawed. Perfection is an ellusive goal. So I will just have to keep re-learning those lessons every chance I get.
Thankfully, my white shorts are not ruined, and so far I am not blind.
Now, if I can just teach my heart...

A Sweet Escape?

Have I ever ranted about paper gowns  here yet? Well, here I go...
They are USELESS!
I was sitting in the exam room waiting for my doctor (for an hour and a half by the way) in one of those bless-ed things yesterday. (Strong language, I know. ;) I tried to do it up with the plastic thingy that is supposed to tie around your waist, but that was an epic fail. As I pulled it tight it snapped in half.
So then I sat down on the couchy chair thing he has in his office, and I heard a rip as the gown split up the side. Good grief.
They don't cover you. They don't keep you warm. And the doc is about to see everything you are so delicately trying to hide with the product made of paper which was never meant to be made of paper. (Breathe Susie. Just Breathe.) The creator of the paper gown must have been the healthiest person alive, never needing to see the doctor.
So I sat there with my seductive slit up the side wondering if perhaps I should put on a new one in case the doctor thought I was trying to make a certain fashion statement. Ah, what the heck. Like I said...he will see everything anyway right?
As I sat there wishing for heat rather than air conditioning, I glanced over and saw a women's magazine laying on his desk. It had a picture of Katy Perry on the cover with the headline, "The Escape Issue".
It made me think.
Can we ever really escape ourselves? Sure, we can take a breather or a break from our circumstances, which is sometimes very healthy, but we always end up wherever we are going. As hard as it is to face our inner self, it truly is necessary to live a productive, healthy life.
It takes a lot of courage to look inside, wrestle with our inadequacies, hurts and fears.
But what is the alternative? I think that is even scarier.
A holiday somewhere exotic would be nice right now. A sweet escape.
But whether vulnerable in a blue paper gown or laying on a beach with my shades on, I will still be there. All of me...the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Does anyone have some sunscreen?

A Thing Of Beauty II - The Sequel

At a totally random point in my day, I unexpectedly came across this quote:
"Legends say that hummingbirds float free of time, carrying our hopes for love, joy and celebration. Like a hummingbird, we aspire to hover and savor each moment as it passes, embrace all that life has to offer and to celebrate the joy of everyday. The hummingbird's delicate grace reminds us that life is rich, beauty is everywhere, every personal connection has meaning and that laughter is life's sweetest creation."
It always amazes me when life works this way. First, I blog about seeing a hummingbird at my window, then yesterday I tella friend about the visit from my new beautiful little friend, and now I find this quote. The hummingbird came up in conversation after I had been telling her, without detail, of how I am feeling some of the pain of others as well as my own on my shoulder's right now. Before I had even mentioned the delicate bird, she said to me, "Even amidst the pain, there are moments of beauty which we need to hang on to and believe in." How could she know? Coincidence? I think not. And I will forever see the hummingbird in this new light.
My hope would be that you too will get a precious little visit, just when you need it most.
He really is...a thing of beauty.

High-Rises and Low-Riders

It is interesting to me how fashion fads change, whether they are flattering fads or not. Unfortunately, I have reached an age where I can see how styles cycle through the years. I suppose there are only so many ways you can clothe the human body.
And I have a theory. Too low is no good. Too high is not so great either. And mid-range is just right. Yes, I am talking about waist-line heights.
When wearing low-riders, simply put, BAD things happen. I've heard it called "muffin-top" or "mushroom-top" and I don't know about you, but mine is of Portobello proportions when my button does up in the lower octaves of my torso. And I never could get into the whole "Thong-show", which is the worst kind of "Gong-show" in my mind.
And now picture in your mind if you will, the ultra high-waisted shorts or onesies that are making a come-back...on an average or above-average sized woman. Cuz they are okay on a size two totem-pole, (I love you all my skinny friends! :) but on most people, they just accentuate parts that shouldn't be accentuated. (If ya know what I mean ;)
Yes, mid-range feels just about right.
And that goes for my blood sugar as well. When too low I feel shaky, sweaty, desperate and STARVING. Oh...and did I mention Grouchy?! It's not pretty. When too high I feel thirsty, headachy, lethargic and just plain blah. Oh...and did I mention Grouchy?!?
Yes, mid-range feels just about right. (Especially lower mid-range rather than higher mid-range).
So as fashion cycles through the years, my blood sugar cycles through the days (hours, minutes...).
"They" say everything in moderation. Well, when it comes to fashion and diabetes, I think there is a lot of truth to that.
And when in doubt, remember this...Portobellos are for eating, not fashioning. ;)

A Thing of Beauty

You know when things pile up and life bites you in the butt? Well, I am in that place right now. Stress coming from multiple directions all aimed at me and more importantly, the people that I love. And I know I am not myself when...
We needed groceries so I went to the city to pick some up. Usually I love days in the city by myself. I run errands, take myself out for coffee and write or ponder life, and often wander through some clothing stores. Sometimes I go to the mall, and sometimes I go to second hand stores to look for hidden treasures.
Today I had a hard time getting motivated to even get ready and drive to the city, and this is where it gets really bad...even once there, all I could do was wish I was back home. I didn't go to the mall, wasn't excited about the clothing section in the "grocery" store and didn't even go out for coffee. Like I said...you know I am not myself when I could care less about shopping.
But there are more important things than shopping going on all around me. People are dying, hurting, aging, and are trying to wrestle the difficulties of life to the ground. Myself included. Sometimes we win. Sometimes we don't.
At this point in my life there are moments when I don't feel like eating at all, and then my carb-addiction kicks into high gear and all I want to do is shovel in the cake. (Luckily I don't have any cake in my house, but I am telling you...that bakery section of the grocery store almost sucked me in today. Thankfully that is one battle I won.) It is hard enough keeping blood sugars regulated while under stress, never mind throwing in the junk I wish I could eat.
But a magnificent, delicately tiny hummingbird came to visit me at my window, and his beauty was an unexpected gift. It reminded me there is hope. Not that everything will get better, and in fact some things will get worse, but that it is worth the struggle, the fight.
So for now I will keep treading water to stay afloat, just as the hummingbird flutters his wings to fly.
And who knows...maybe someday I will get to join him.

Good Fortune?

"Be prepared to modify your plan. It'll be good for you."
That was my fortune in the cookie I received after dining in an asian bistro last week. Interesting. It is true that things don't always work out as planned.
This can be applied to picking your outfit for the day or accepting new health challenges as they come along. As for picking an outfit, if I am going out, whether it be grocery shopping in the city or to a doctor's appointment, I always figure out what I am going to wear the night before. And I always have a backup plan. There are so many variables that could change that next morning. The weather could be rainy rather than sunny, your mood might be altered from a poor night's sleep, or you may just feel ugly in the first pick from the night before. Some days are just like that.
And then there are those pesky health issues I mentioned. Sometimes, they are just annoying, but still bad enough to make you change your mind about going out to see a movie, and sometimes they are life-altering, changing your plan for the rest of your life.
I don't always achieve this, but I am learning it is easier to cope with change when you haven't nailed down and planned every detail of your life, only to be disappointed when it doesn't come true. Don't get me wrong...it is good to dream. Even great to dream. And to dream big. But I think it also wise to realize in this world, all of our dreams won't come true. We are blessed if we can experience some of them. And maybe the alternative will make us stronger, more compassionate or help us love more.
Change isn't always welcome. Sometimes it is brutally hard. But we need to be open to the idea that it will happen. So what are we going to do with it when it comes?
Wear it with confidence. Like the fortune said...it might just be good for us.

When Two Worlds Collide

Sometimes, two different areas of your life come crashing together. In this case it was fashion and diabetes! Yes I know the title of my own blog. But usually I have to connect the dots. This time it all happened naturally. (And awkwardly if you must know.)
I was collecting multiple garments, which I'm sure I heard taunting me audibly saying, "You can't live without me! You need to try me on! I am so adorable!" as they threw themselves at me, leaping from the racks into my arms while I walked through one of my favorite stores. I reached the change room and patiently stood in the zig-zagging line, knowing that every moment spent there would be worth it when I found that perfect new outfit.
As I reached the front of the line, still awaiting my turn, I decided it would be a good time to check my blood sugar. (Really Susie?? Being next in line, with an arm load of garments I didn't own, I picked that moment to draw blood?!?) As you may or may not know, I am no rookie at this. I have had diabetes for 28 years. I can check my blood sugar while jogging on my treadmill, driving, (don't tell the cops!) or while flying through the air after bungee jumping over a cliff without a rope. (Perhaps maybe not that last one.) But even though I can get a blood sugar result in those instances, it doesn't mean it always goes smoothly.
Of course I got called to a change room stall just as my meter was flashing my reading, so I walked with my allowable six items all the while zipping up my meter case and following the sales girl.
I was so excited to find a new treasure that I quickly shut the door behind me and started ripping my clothes off. (No comment please. ;)
After no success, I slowly got dressed again and exited the little room. To my horror, there, in a perfect trail leading right to my room from the front of the lineup, was all my used blood sugar strips that I always just throw back into the case when I am done testing. This was a large changing room area so, of course I had been led to one of the furthest away from the line. Let's just say, the trail was a long one. There were probably 25 strips pointing right at me. So now what?!? Should I pick them up, making it painfully obvious that they are mine? Or do I book it for the door, knowing full well it is painfully obvious anyway?! I booked it.
So I will probably forever be known as the "bloody foreign object litterer" (the average person wouldn't probably know what they are) at Forever 21, and since I am a frequent flyer (buyer? ;) and there is no way to disguise my height of six feet and platinum blond hair, I will have to suck up the embarrassment and hold my head high.
So folks...that is what happens when (my) two worlds collide. It is not romantic. It is just humiliating.
Oh well. It wouldn't be the first time. ;)

Extra! Extra! Read All About It!

Yesterday I was surrounded by people in the 50's era. 1959 to be exact. Everywhere I looked there were pencil skirts and cardigans and overcoats and curly fancy hair peeking out of delicate hats. It was quite fascinating.
In case you are wondering...no I didn't find a workable time machine and take a trip. I was on the set as an extra in a movie being filmed locally. It was fascinating.
My girlfriends who were with me mentioned they could fit nicely in that era as far as fashion goes. Everyone always dressed up and looked classy. The men as well. Top hats and suits. Very nice.
It was also fascinating to see all it takes behind the scenes to make a movie. I was especially intrigued in the hair and makeup department. Those hairstylists had to think on their feet! They had to create the 50's look in minutes on 100's of people with every kind of cut, having never seen those people before. And the interesting thing was, women didn't have long hair back then. The longest they wore it was shoulder length. So every woman (including us "extras") with long hair had to have it put up, usually in tight buns (wish I always had "tight buns" ;) with hats. Like I said...Fascinating.
Sitting in that crowd of done up women and men in the hockey rink, waiting to do my part (which was to stand up and cheer for a hockey team during a big play), it got me thinking. (Surprise, surprise ;)
As much fun as it was being teleported back in time, I felt thankful for the period we live in. The medical field (along with natural therapies) have come so far since then. Using external insulin was still fairly new compared to what we know now, (it was discovered in 1922 and has been modified many times since) and the methods of controlling diabetes were not as developed. I would definitely not have my insulin pump. And penicillin was only discovered in 1945 so was also in it's baby stages. I could go on and on about how things have changed but the list would be endless. It does though, make me excited for the future.
Would I be alive today if I lived in 1959? Not necessarily. Maybe, but probably not. At minimum, my quality of life would be vastly different.
So, it was great to travel back in time for a day, but I am thankful to be alive in 2011.
And who knows? I may be able to experience the best of both worlds...
Can you ever go wrong with a pencil skirt? :)

The Good Wife

My husband likes a good tall skinny... heel. (You thought I was gonna say woman didn't you! ;) He has great fashion sense when it comes to women's clothing, and definitely has an opinion of what looks good on me. He loves it when I dress up in a cute skirt and pony tail.
I'll be honest. Sometimes my choice of what to wear is solely determined by what I know he would like to see me in. I may not feel like wearing that black fitted dress with four-inch strappy heels, but because I love him so much and know it makes him happy, I put them on regardless of my fashion mood.
Switching gears for a moment, I was talking to a friend of mine the other day about the concept of being a good wife. Now before you get all upset and start thinking thoughts about women's liberation...I am not talking about being passive or submissive. The discussion was about how to be a good "sick" spouse. She too has chronic illness and deals with a lot of health stress.
 It is so hard feeling tired and in pain a lot of the time, and it is easy to complain about our woes to our husbands. But they understandably get sick of hearing about us being sick. (Before I go any further, I have to tell you that I have the most patient husband in the world in this area. He is awesome!) And even if they don't voice their frustrations with our health status, they still have to deal with the stress of it all. They love us, and can't fix us. That is hard for anyone who loves deeply for another.
And what about when they come home and say, "I'm so tired," or, "I have a headache," while you have just had a horrible day dealing with pain and exhaustion. Is it the loving thing to do to say "Are you serious?!? You are tired?!? You have no idea the day I've had!" I think not. It's not a competition.
I think it is probably worse dealing with the stress of watching your beloved suffer, not be able to do anything about it, take upon the worry of unknown test results, feel tired yourself, etc. etc., than to be the one suffering. It's like when my mom watched me almost die when diagnosed with diabetes, and all she could say was "I just want to take your place." But she couldn't. She just had to watch and comfort.
So yes, I sometimes dress with the number one goal of pleasing my husband's eye.  And much more importantly I need to be honest with him about my health status for the day, but all the while keep his feelings in mind. Rain or shine, he and I are in this together. Contrary to how I sometimes act, I am learning...
It's not all about me.

"Just Got Old"

Still have that blazer-style denim jacket in your closet from 1991? I hate to tell you this, but it just got old. Okay...that probably actually happened a long time ago. Don't get me wrong...there are some pretty cute updated denim jackets out there. But if you bought yours in 1991, it's not one of them.  Mind you, if you went back about five years from then, you'd probably be almost on target for the trends today. Oh the crazy fashion cycle.
The other day I was feeling tired, sore, and just generally dragged out. Tired from the insomnia, sore from my  messed up hip and dragged out from high blood sugars. 
I had some sort of commitment in the city, so I was driving in my new car, whilst listening to the 80's and 90's on satellite radio. (Our free trial is about to run out...(insert disappointed emoticon here).
So while feeling sorry for myself (about how I physically felt, not the radio thing), a Madonna song came on. I've heard the song a hundred times and started to groove to the beat.                              
                       "And I feel, like I just got old
                         And I feel
                         And I feel, like I just got old
                         And I feel..."
I was like "Yes! Yes! I feel your pain Madonna! Yes!" and then I started singing the words at the top of my lungs. (Even bluetooth couldn't have disguised my vigor as a normal phone conversation to the drivers passing by on the three lane street.)
It might have been my mental and physical state influencing what I heard, because later that night, after deciding that was my new theme song for my body's dreary days, I looked up the actual lyrics. Oh. I just got home. Right.
Well, looking at the bright side, maybe I just came up with a new song title for my next song. Or perhaps probably not.
I'm not going to lie to ya. There are days when I feel like I just got old. And maybe on those days I will still sing my own version along with Madonna while she sings hers. (Beware neighborhood cats. It's not pretty!) I like making up words to songs without knowing I am making up the words. They seem so much more relevant to me that way.
But I think Madonna got it right this time (although I have no idea what the rest of the song says). Feeling like you just got home is a way better feeling than the one of getting "old" (whatever number that is. I just know it shouldn't be my age.)
So, I'll miss you Bon Jovi, Alanis and maybe even you Madonna. But it's the end of an era...
At least in my car. ;)

Shoulda Gone Straight

This post has nothing to do with fashion. Or diabetes. Or health issues. It is totally random.
I was in the east end of the city having a fabulous lunch with my sister...right before I got lost. Yes, that's right. I got lost in my own city and I wasn't even going to, or coming from a doctor's appointment.
Like I said...I was in the east end of the city and needed to go to the west end to meet someone else. This sounds easy enough but there is a river (which obviously requires a bridge) that needed crossing and a major railway, (which also required a bridge) to overcome. I had gone over my route with my sister before leaving the restaurant (thanks again for lunch L.!) but my best laid plans got changed when I came to a fork in the road (okay, it was more like a perpendicular turn onto a different street) and panicked. What do I always do in a situation like this you ask? Well, I follow the car in front of me. This is not always the best course of action, but somehow I don't feel so alone as I tail them. (Crazy, I know.)
I ended up on Main Street (which I had always wanted) only was forced to go the wrong way. I turned in the direction of where the sun sets, hoping I would eventually find a good solid secondary route to my destination. The trains were a bit of a problem, but I finally found a bridge that would let me cross over.
It was one of those metal and concrete hanging bridges, and had only two narrow lanes. I hate bridges at the best of times, so as I crossed this rust-bucket of a roadway, I couldn't help but once again panic. A rusty bridge can't be good right?
Obviously I am safe and sound since I am alive to write you this story. The other good news is, I avoided downtown traffic in rush hour.
So there really is no moral to this story. Sometimes you've just got to go with the flow. (Maybe there is a moral in there somewhere after all ;)
I will think of it as an adventure, conquering new territory in my heeled gladiator sandals. (Had to get a little fashion in there somewhere ;)
Now...I am done with this day.

The Domino Effect

Ever noticed how a strange new fad or fashion will appear and at first you think it is exactly that - strangely weird? But then more and more people start wearing it and it kind of grows on you? For me it was gladiator sandals a couple of years ago. Admittedly, I thought they were butt ugly at first and vowed never to cave to the growing population of nasty sandal wearers out there. But, then I think I got desensitized and found myself picking them up off the shelf...just to look and feel. Suddenly after months of good looking feet passing me by on the street in the crazy things, I purchased a pair. And wow did I get compliments when I wore them! So I put them on more often. ;)
I call this process of letting your perceptions get twisted in your mind due to popular demand, the domino effect. If the marketing is "set up" well, you can be the thousandth domino way down the line, but eventually you too will fall. One thing leads to another.
Speaking of one thing leading to another, (nice segue eh? ;) in the last few days I found out that the surgery I recently had caused an injury to my body from the position they had me in. I am healed from the actual surgery but am messed up from the wrenching action the surgical team inflicted on me. This sort of thing happened once before too. When I had my first brain surgery I had staples in my scalp for the cuts the clamps caused holding my head in place. (I can only imagine what took place while I was "out".)
I will admit, it is frustrating to deal with one problem and gain another. I never did like dominoes.
But onward I will go, for this life is worth making the most of, and I will not let this new hiccup get me down.
And the doctor ordered a new pair of quality shoes to help correct the problem, so can I really complain?
No...they were not gladiators ;)