The End of an Era

On December 22nd, 2005, just two months after Landon’s first birthday, I had a breast augmentation in Greenville, North Carolina. 
Cost = $4,700. 

Almost 3 years later, on November 26th, 2008, the day before Thanksgiving, I underwent an implant removal and replacement (from saline to silicone) and breast lift in Savannah, Georgia. 
Cost = $7,900.

Today, October 17th, 2019, I had my implants completely removed with a breast lift in New Bern, North Carolina. 
Cost = $6,800.

When you research getting breast implants nobody tells you that they are NOT lifelong devices and it is important to have them exchanged or removed approximately every 10-15 years.  Well, my first replacement was at about 3 years. 

I remember one day I was getting out of the bathtub and drying off when I saw my reflection in the mirror.  I noticed something didn’t look right with my left implant.  I called for my then husband to come see.  I had deformity at the top of my breast.  And if you pushed on it, it felt like pushing a ziplock baggie filled with water.  Turns out, I had capsular contracture and the implant size was way too big for my body (Yes, there are many shapes, sizes, textures and fillings to consider when getting implants).

After I got my new set, I felt better.  My breasts were back to normal. 

And yes, I did cook a thanksgiving dinner the next day.  The mashed potatoes were dry because I forgot to add milk and I cooked the turkey with the bag of gizzards in it because I forgot to take it out.  To be completely honest, I don’t remember that Thanksgiving. 

In 2014 I noticed some pain in my left breast.  Some days were worse than others.  It wasn’t really bad until 2016 when my left implant felt hard.  It wouldn’t move.  I had to try and give it a deep massage in order for my skin around it to even feel comfortable and not so tight.  Those days were terrible.  That was about the time I considered getting rid of my implants.  That consideration only lasted a day.

6 months ago, in April, I had finally had enough of the pain.  But I was also incredibly unhappy with myself.  I felt completely self-conscious.  It didn’t matter what I wore, I felt like I was always trying to cover my chest.  I felt like all that people saw was the girl with the big, fake boobs.  No sports bra would completely cover me.  And running – running made them hurt even more.  But then, there’s the issue with my back.  My back pain has been terrible lately.  And I have to believe that maybe the weight on my chest is making it harder on my back.  So, with that I made an appointment and had a consultation thinking surely my insurance would cover it since I’m in pain. 

Fun Fact: Insurance DOES NOT cover implant removal if it was an elective surgery.  No matter the medical diagnoses.

Turns out, I had capsular contracture again.  Research shows that about one in six breast augmentation patients experience some degree of capsular contracture.  I was 2 for 2. 

I was given a quote that included two surgeries over a 6-month time frame with no working out in between.  It was over $11,000.  I went home in tears.  There was no way I could do that to my son.  I couldn’t take money away from our family for cosmetic reasons.  I thought about it for a week or two.  But ultimately, I couldn’t add that kind of financial burden to our already 1-income home with a mortgage and student loan bills.

Summer went by I got more and more self-conscious about myself.  I would go to stores and try on cute clothes and think “well, if I didn’t have a ginormous rack, I could wear that.”  I would leave upset.  Being a single woman, I convinced myself that men who came up to me only saw me for my chest and probably didn’t even realize I had a face.  But… I was also in a lot of pain.  I was in so much pain.  I decided I would get a second opinion. 

I am so glad I booked a consultation with Dr. Zannis and his staff.  Everyone was so wonderful.  At my initial appointment they spent at least 35 minutes with me discussing options and taking pictures and measurements.  I walked out of the office with a surgery date booked. 

If you are reading this, it means I made it out of surgery (and I’m probably enjoying my pain meds).

You might be asking yourself – Why is she sharing such a personal story with all of us?

Because ya’ll are gonna notice – Duh!

But seriously, I don’t want anyone to think I regret getting implants 14 years ago.  Even if someone would have sat me down and told me all of what I went through was a possibility I most likely wouldn’t have listened anyways.  You live.  You learn.  You go broke in the process.  At the end of the day, plastic surgery is an individual choice.  I don’t fault anyone for wanting to look or feel their best.  This was just something I had to do for me. 

Hanging Up The Cape

I’ve hung up my cape, folks.  I never realized how heavy my cape was until I took it off.  Maybe later I will have a ceremonial lighting of a candle to symbolize the burning of my cape.  Because I never EVER want to wear it, see it or think about it again. 

………… you get that there isn’t an actual cape, right? 

The cape I am referring to is the notion that I somehow convinced myself I needed to be a real-life Superwoman.  Not the crime fighting or saving babies from burning buildings kind.  I’m talking about the ‘super independent, I don’t need anyone, anything, I won’t ask for help and I can and will make it on my own and – oh by the way – while I am doing it I will put on a brave face and never show any weakness, fear or emotion nor will I allow myself to be put in a position of rejection or vulnerability.’  You know, that kind of Superwoman.   

A few weeks ago, I was NOT OK.  But you know what?  I haven’t been OK for a while.  Maybe a year or two…. Possibly more.  But the few weeks ago in which I am talking about, it was pretty bad.  Downright scary.  I don’t know what it is like to be an alcoholic who has blackouts but if I had to compare, I would have to guess it was similar to that.  I really can’t remember much from those couple of weeks.  I couldn’t focus.  I couldn’t see clearly.  I didn’t care about anything.  I stopped going to the gym.  I avoided people.  I would be driving and suddenly wonder where I was and where I was going.  That’s when I knew that I wasn’t OK.  That’s when I reached out for help. 

I used some resources I knew I had through my employer and made an appointment with a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC).  I was only able to have 3 free sessions with her.  They helped immensely.  I am sure part of it was the refocusing of my brain and having someone to talk with me about things, but after the first session I felt good.  After the second session, I felt great.  At the third session, I was a different person.    

I focused on making a small change with the help of my counselor.  The results of which have made me happier than I have been in a very long time.  I am giddy to my core with how incredibly happy I am.  And it is truly a feeling I don’t think I have ever felt in my 35 years of life.

It’s time for the ‘symbolic’ burning of the cape. 

I am done being Superwoman.  

Move Over Romeo and Juliet

Rocky and Adrian, Cleopatra and Mark Antony, Bonnie and Clyde, Allie and Noah.  These couples have nothing on Roxie and Daniel. 

I met Roxie three and a half years ago at work.  After a few months of getting to know her I requested her as a friend on Facebook, because that’s what you do now-a-days, right?  Well, apparently Roxie and I were not on the same page because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be my friend.  – I was just as shocked as you are.  This winning smile, infectious personality??  Who wouldn’t want to be my friend? –   Don’t worry, I will never let her live that down.  Even on her death bed, I am going to remind her of it.  After she switched jobs and moved into the office across from me, she started warming up to me.  Actually, I believe there was something said about feeding body parts to a pig….. but anywho, soon after not only did we become Facebook friends, but we became real friends. 

I met Daniel once or twice during the first couple of months Roxie and I worked together.  He even put me in his phone as Anna Dotty.  It was at least a month until I found out and corrected him.   Then, when I foolishly decided to sign up for the Marine Corps Marathon in March of 2018, Roxie had mentioned Daniel having some friends who might be willing to train with me.  Then, it turned into Daniel helping me train.  Then, it turned into Daniel signing up for the marathon to run with me.  Then, it was every weekend early morning training on Emerald Isle or Atlantic Beach with Roxie as our personal Sherpa riding along side us with water, biofreeze, gels, gummies, towels, motivation and snapping us along the way to keep our (mostly Daniel’s) social media followers updated.  (It’s a real thing!  If you don’t follow Daniel on Snapchat, you are missing out.)

I can tell you one thing: If you’ve never trained for a marathon with someone (in my case a couple) you don’t really know them. But I still spare you the Vaseline, twizzler, peeing on the side of the road, topless in bed, laying under a tree in the middle of the road stories for another time. I’ve piqued your interest though, huh??

Roxie and Daniel have been married 23 years, but you’d swear they were newlyweds because of how in love they are.  These two do not just tolerate each other (which is something I am accustomed to seeing in long-term relationships), they aren’t just husband and wife and they don’t just go through the motions.  These two are a team.  They are partners in life.  They support and encourage each other.    You know how some couple rag on their spouse?  Maybe make fun of their cooking or bad habits?  I have never heard either of them rag each other or make each other feel bad out of fun the way many couples do.  They even do everything together.  And it’s not out of force or guilt.  They really like being together and enjoy each other’s company.  My favorite part – which might be too personal, but I am going to share it anyways (if you know Daniel, just don’t tell him I told you) but his wife still swoons over him.  I hear all the time how proud she is of him and how handsome he looks in uniform and when we are out kayaking or running, she will glance over at him and say out loud – to no one in particular – “gosh he’s sexy.”  When I watch her watch her husband and smile, I smile.  I smile because when I see them, I know there is hope for me. 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I want a love like Roxie and Daniel.   #relationshipgoals

So here I am, writing about this amazing couple I look up to. I have so much love and admiration for these two, very special people. Thank you, Roxie and Daniel, for being my real life Hallmark movie romance (with a whole lot of comedy and some content only suitable for mature audiences).

TGIF

It’s Friday.  The work week is over.  A long, holiday weekend is in front of me. 

Just like every other Friday (or any day in general) I come home to a house where two happy pups are wagging their tails and excited to see me. I give them some love and ask them how their day was (yes, I talk to my dogs). After that, I check on Landon, the teenager who shares the house with me, yet I seldom see him, who’s in his room online gaming with friends. Then, I go out back, say hello to my flock of chickens (again, yes, I talk to my chickens), collect eggs, feed them and give them fresh water. This right here is the highlight of my day. And, it’s the same thing. Every. Day.

Other people come home to their loved ones. Their partner in crime. Their boo. Hell, I don’t know what couples call each other anymore. I’ve been out of the game so long I’m not sure what it’s like to come home to anyone anymore. And simply put…. I’m lonely.

I wish I had someone to come home to everyday. Someone who is interested in how my day was. Someone who is as excited to see me as Toby and Parker are. (Those are my dogs by the way!) I wish I had someone to talk to about my goals and ambitions.  I wish I had someone to give me career advice.  Recently, I’ve been racking my brain about where I see myself in a year, 3 years, and beyond.  I know I’m capable of so much more career wise.  I feel like I’m in a rut. And there are days I REALLY wish I had someone to talk to about it.

I may not have a lot in life, but I have some AMAZING friends who are ALWAYS there for me. So when I say that I’m lonely, I mean that after my day is over, I want more than just my couch, a cup of coffee and Netflix to comfort me. However, my small group of friends make themselves available for me. Whenever I need them. And for this I am thankful. Not everyone has friends like this. I am truly lucky to have them in my life. Because without them, I would be more of a mess than I already am. And that’s scary to think about.

I’ve had a rough couple of weeks. Hell, maybe more like the last two months. I put on a brave, confident, I’ve got everything going for me face. But there’s a reason I don’t play poker. People who know me well can see right through my so-called brave face. And they call me out on it. I am the type of person who doesn’t like to burden other people with my problems. My usual answer when asked how I am doing is “fine.” Sometimes I even switch it up and say, “I’m good.” However, in my core, in my heart, I’m not.

I’m not going to bore you with any specific details.  And I will get through whatever this funk is.  I’m a tough cookie.  Eventually, I’ll be OK.  But right now, I have a lot going on in my head.  I over think everything, I beat myself up about every little thing, and I only make things worse for myself.  Especially when I spend most of my free time at home, ignoring my phone, and staying locked up in my own little pity-filled world.  There are some changes in store for me. I have to do what is best for me. I have to learn to love myself. Flaws and all.

Please don’t take my rawness as an attempt to get attention or pity from you.  I am just being real.  I hope this serves as a reminder that everyone is facing a battle, going through a hard time, or struggling in some way, shape or form.  They may not always show it.  So be kind to everyone and smile at strangers.  Sometimes that’s exactly what someone needs, especially when they have no one to go home to.

Stepping Out Of My Comfort Zone

Blue Jean Jacket Cameo Boutique

Recently, “life” has been slapping me in the face. 

Go here. Do this. Make sure this gets done. Oh, wait, let’s add back pain to the mix. Don’t forget to mow your grass. You can’t miss the gym. Ok, maybe just one day. All those chickens are not going to feed themselves. Time to cheer on the Marlins and support the baseball players living with you all summer. You are out of milk, and bread, and coffee creamer – Wal-Mart is calling. Try out a new TV show on Netflix…. Next thing you know you’ve binge-watched four… you heard that right, four full TV series. Oh, and by the way, Parker needs daily medications 16 times a day for 72 weeks and since he won’t take a pill you have to hide it in a peanut butter sandwich……

OK, I may have exaggerated that last point. Except the peanut butter sandwich. That part is true.

That’s why I haven’t been blogging. (or answering texts, hanging out with friends or wishing all 800 and something Facebook friends a happy birthday even with the daily reminders on my phone).  Ooops, my bad!

Things have finally slowed down. Well, slightly.  And, I recently tried something completely out of my comfort zone.  It was – dare I say it – Fun! 

I recently starting “modeling” for a local boutique in Swansboro, North Carolina.

Cameo Boutique. 

I remember when it was a bridal store tucked away in Morehead City (I was probably 17/18 years old at the time).  I also remember when the store moved to Swansboro in the shopping center next to Taco Bell.  Then, years later…. many years later, it moved to its current location in a sweet, pale yellow, quaint ‘home’ on the edge of downtown Swansboro.  Gone are the days of a bridal boutique.  It’s a cute, fashionable, colorful, friendly and most importantly affordable boutique owned by a wonderful and sweet woman, Monica.  And she sure does have an eye for colorful styles and trendy, long-wearable fashions.

First and foremost, let me assure you I am NOT receiving a kick-back for writing this blog about Cameo Boutique.  You may have seen my personal Instagram where I tag the boutique when I am posting pictures of me wearing her items.  I mean, isn’t Instagram where you share your food, workout and clothing pics?  Hello – I am trying to keep up with the youth of America!  (ha ha)  Cameo Boutique is a small, local business which provides customer service you won’t find anywhere else.  (Trust me, I just read a Facebook post of a local business in New Bern where the owner was blatantly annoyed that a customer dared to walk into her establishment 5 minutes prior to closing and she only made the situation worse in comments in the thread by insulting other customers/people.  Because of that post, I will never go into her shop now.  I was looking forward to checking out her business.  Oh well.  But, to be kind, I will leave out the name of the new ‘junks and antique’ store in the local area.)

So, here’s to trying something new.  It’s a learning curve for me. I’m not naturally pretty – I definitely need makeup!  And my smile, eyes and poses can and will get better. 

Side Note:  I would really like to have a breast removal because I hate them!!!!!  Maybe I’ll set up a GoFundMe to have ya’ll help me get rid of these things!  – Just kidding… I would never accept a handout.  A sugar-daddy maybe.  But never a handout.  😊  I have already looked into it and my insurance won’t cover it and will be about $10,000 over the course of 6 months and 2 surgeries.  Note to all those young girls… DON’T get implants!)  I digress.

Cameo Boutique Purple Top

With constructive criticism from myself and my dear friends (whom I respect for sharing with me) I have some things to work on.  Because I want to represent the Cameo brand well.

What are you waiting on?  Go check out the boutique. 

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/cameoboutiqueandformalwear/

Website:  https://shopcameo.boutique/

The Struggle of Being a Gold

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Pexels.com

For almost a decade I have been a licensed facilitator for Shipley Communications in 4-Lenses Temperament Discovery and have taught the personality assessment training to thousands of people (mainly active duty members and their families).  Identifying and understanding personality styles – think disposition, character, nature, spirit, etc. – allows you to determine how people think, feel, work, play, learn, teach, speak, write, lead and follow.  It’s a very interesting subject.  But most of all, it opens your mind and enables you to see the world from somebody else’s “lens” which, if used for good, can improve all of your relationships (work, family, significant other, neighbors… the list is endless).

You’ve probably heard of Myers-Briggs which is the identification and description of 16 distinctive personality types.  It’s an assessment of over 100 questions which results in being placed into one of the 16 personality types like ISTJ, INFP, ENFJ.  I’ll be honest, I took the Myers-Briggs test two times: once in college when I was 18 and again in my mid-twenties.  I cannot for the life of me remember what “personality type” I was.  This is where 4-Lenses is different (and a little bit easier to remember).  Instead of 16 personality types, 4-Lenses breaks it down into four temperament colors:  Blue, Gold, Green and Orange. 

Don’t worry, this is not a lesson in personality types.  Rather, it’s the struggle I face being a Gold. 

See, let me share with you a little about the Gold personality type.

  • The Gold personality believes in the benefits of discipline as it is critical for success.  
  • Golds can be prudent and prudent people know how to conduct themselves with good judgement, common sense, and even caution in practical matters. 
  • Just like the Boy Scouts, Gold’s like to be prepared.  They will spend a considerable amount of time and effort anticipating problems and forming not just one, but multiple backup plans.
  • Traditions are very important to Golds.  Traditions bring a feeling of stability, security and order.
  • Gold’s hate change.  Like, in a dragging their feet kicking and screaming kind of way.  They eventually come around, but they are vocal about their feelings with change. 
  • Gold’s feel obligated to take on responsibilities.  They will sacrifice their personal time to take on new responsibilities. 
  • They believe in hard work, dedication and trust.  And once a Gold loses trust in someone, it is gone forever.  There is no coming back. 
  • Golds enjoy a good old-fashioned list.  When they complete something on the list, they cross it off.  If they do something that wasn’t on the list, well, you guessed it – they will add it to the list so that they can feel the satisfaction of crossing it off the list. 
  • Golds need order, rules and schedules.  Without it, they feel like life would be too messy and chaotic.  To help manage their schedule, they use planners, apps, and appointment books.
  • Security, to a Gold, means having a good-paying career at an established institution that fosters positive societal standards. 
  • Golds are loyal to a fault.  They dedicate themselves to their employer, significant other and their friends. 
  • To a Gold, there is right and wrong – no in between.  Following rules is important and they expect others to respect authority and follow the rules just as they do

Why do I write all of this?  Because being a Gold is tiring.  It’s exhausting.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, my house is almost always immaculate.  Everything is in order.  All my bills get paid well before they are due.  I keep charts and lists for just about everything.  I constantly reevaluate my life and the goals I have set for myself – personally, financially, educationally, and career wise.  Almost every minute of every day is scheduled, and I am a creature of habit and repetition.  I have to plan everything I do because I don’t like spontaneity.  I come off as rigid to people who don’t know me.  Some might even consider me a bitch because of it.  I promise I’m not.  It’s just my personality.  Luckily, I have amazing Orange, Green and Blue friends who not only appreciate my “gold” but help me be less “gold” on occasion.  And I love them for that.

Holidays, Birthdays and Balloons, Oh My!

Photo by Padli Pradana on Pexels.com

Graduation season is here.  Many, and I mean MANY of my friends have kids graduating high school this year. (Yup, I have old friends. Haha…. just kidding. Kinda!)  Some have already graduated.  Some are getting ready to graduate.  Just walk into any Wal-Mart or Target and you’ll see the “Congrats Grad” displays with cap and gown teddy bears, cards, balloons, and class of ’19 items. It’s like being greeted with a simple, slap-in-the-face reminder that someone you know is probably graduating and you should pick up a card, or twelve. 

After you’ve picked out the perfect graduation card and you finally have a chance to look at your list for what you need in the store, the next display stops you in your tracks. That’s right, Father’s Day is just a few days away. Here’s your chance to pick up a little something for dad. And hey, you’ve got options: cards, balloons, miniature tool sets, car detailing gift baskets, the ever-hilarious novelty bathroom trivia books, and shirts that read “DAD BOD” across the front. 

Just as one display is phasing out another display is being set up: Fourth of July, Back to School, Labor Day, Halloween, Veterans’ Day, Marine Corps Birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas….. you get the picture.  And in between each of those holidays are birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, funerals, new babies, showers, etc.  Between Hallmark, Wal-Mart and Target, we have no excuse to forget our loved ones on special occasions.

If it sounds like I am being a Negative Nancy about all these wonderful occasions, I most definitely am not.  I love holidays.  I love cards.  I love receiving flowers (hint hint).  I love joining my friends and family in celebrating special occasions.  What I don’t like, however, are balloons. 

Yes. You read that right. I hate balloons.

Mylar balloons are fine but latex balloons are not.  I really don’t know what happened between my childhood and adult life but at some point, something triggered a very real fear of balloons.

Go ahead and laugh. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I mean, how does a fear like this just happen? When I was younger, I played many games involving popping balloons and competing in balloon races.  I even liked to suck out the helium and talk in a funny high-pitched voice along with my friends – but then again, what kid doesn’t?   

But here I am, with a fear of balloons. Check it out… it even has a name:  globophobia.  I’ve had it for years.  At least, ever since Landon was born. I remember this one time when he was little, maybe 18 months old, and when we left Applebee’s, the waitress game him a balloon. We were driving home and I could hear his little fingers pulling at the latex and something just came over me. My skin started crawling (even sitting here remembering that moment is giving me the heebie-jeebies). Since that day, when Landon was given a balloon anywhere, as I held the balloon to get him into the car, I would let it go and tell him “ooops, mommy lost your balloon.” I know… I’m a bad mom. And those weren’t my proudest moments. But the fear I had when he was holding a balloon was truly painful. So as he grew older the only balloons allowed were Mylar. And I made sure he always had one at his birthday parties. See, I made up for being a terrible, no-good, balloon-losing mom.

My close friends already know this about me.  So to them, it’s nothing new. We can joke about it. But they also know the seriousness of it. It’s always been hard to explain to new people about my fear because they think I am pulling their leg. It’s usually hard for them to fathom that someone can actually be afraid of balloons.  Sometimes, new people think it’s funny to test my fear and jokingly torture me by bringing balloons around me. 

Just a heads up folks:  This is how a friendship with me ends. 

DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT chase me with a balloon. 

One of the sweetest moments this past year was when I was invited to a birthday party for my friend’s daughter.  Before the party, she called me to ask if balloons would be OK if they were away from me.  I didn’t want to be the reason for the lack of party decorations so I told her it would be fine but to just let her family know not to chase me with them (I was being dead serious).  I also made sure she knew I could skip out and not come so that she could surprise her daughter with balloons and that it wouldn’t hurt my feelings at all.  When I showed up to the party, I walked in, and the room was filled with Mylar balloons.  MYLAR!  These balloons are at least 3 times the price – if not more – than regular latex balloons.  Oh my heart!  My sweet, wonderful and amazing friend wanted to make sure I had a good time at the party.  And I did. 

You know how, during the Fourth of July celebrations, when people give out reminders on Facebook and even the news channel will make mention about being considerate of pets and the sounds of firecrackers??? Well, here is your friendship-with-Anne reminder:  Anne doesn’t like balloons.  (But she will gladly accept coffee, beer and student loan donations!)