Friday, March 13, 2015
When I finally got in, you took your sweet time coming to see us. You sent your nurse in first. I was already in tears and incredibly frightened. She was rude. BEYOND rude. She took my cat and tossed him on the table. She wasn't kind, she wasn't gentle.
When you finally got there, you asked me all the questions that she'd already asked. You told me to stop crying. You poked him. You flipped him back and forth. You hurt him...you told me you weren't...but you did.
And then, you uttered the phrase that has controlled my life.
"You should have brought him in sooner. We maybe could have fixed this."
Then, you told me that I'd have to leave him for tests. Overnight. I didn't like that. You told me I didn't have a choice. I agreed. You grabbed him and started walking away. I begged you to let him keep his blankie so he wasn't scared. You rolled your eyes at me and took it and told me you'd call the next day.
But you didn't. I called. Your receptionist told me to wait, that you'd call me. And you...didn't. So, I called again. And again. AND AGAIN.
And finally...I sent my husband in to bring my baby home. And he did. You left the port in his paw and told my husband you wouldn't take it out, because we were going to have to bring him back anyways. You also sent my sweet cat home covered in his own poo, with a dirty blankie. How dare you? He was important to me. How dare you?
I made Tim go back and tell you to take the port out. Right now.
I gave him the stupid prescriptions you told me he had to take...even though it wouldn't work. You made me brush the ick out of his fur because you didn't bother to take care of him. Every time I had to brush dried on poo out of his fur, he cringed. That's on you. Not me.
Eventually, we had him put to sleep. It was the hardest thing I have EVER done. Not because I didn't do what was best for him. Not because it helped him. Not because it hurt me, but because YOU, sir, blamed me. You told me it was MY FAULT. You told me that I could have prevented it. YOU did that. The new vet told met there was nothing we could have done. That cancer in cats is aggressive. That there was no way I could have known and yet the only voice I hear is yours telling me it was my fault.
And now, we have two cats again and every time they sleep too much or don't eat enough or don't meow the right way, I want to take them to the vet so that they don't die and it's not my fault. I live in constant fear that I am slowly murdering my pets. I am completely paranoid. I cry all the time because Jack is gone and even though I know it's untrue, you've made me feel like I killed him.
You did that.
I will continue to make sure that no one takes their pet to you. That you don't get to do that to some other unsuspecting pet owner. I am going to trust my gut and stop listening to your weasley little voice in my head. You are not a nice man. You are not a good vet and you do not get to win.
I did the best I knew how to care for my sweet pet. I tried to remember the good things. And you tried to ruin that. That's not okay.
I'm going to let my pets live. I'm going to stop being so crazy overprotective. I want them to enjoy their lives. And I want to enjoy them with them.
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Its currently midnight on Christmas Eve/Christmas Morning. I cant sleep. Ive never been able to sleep on Christmas Eve. When I was a little girl, it was because I was so darn excited. The anticipation was killing me. I was that way up until a few years ago, the Christmas after we lost Grandma. This year, we lost Jack...my best Christmas present ever. I know he was just a cat, but I'm still sad.
As I sit and think about Christmases past (kinda like Scrooge), I can see a change in the way that I approach the holiday. I used to think about what I was getting for Christmas, what Santa was bringing ME. Then, I moved into the gift buying, treat making, decorating to the nines Christmas psycho stage. The year we lost Grandma, I hit full blown Grinch mode. Hated Christmas. Hated happy people...and almost begrudged them their joy. The last few years have bewn survival mode. I do what needs done. Nothing more, nothing less. I overload myself with things to do to force myself to want Christmas. All it does is cause me to have a nervous breakdown.
Howver, in the last week, I feel like I've changed my focus. As I've prepared gifts for others, I've realized that it isnt about the dollars spent. Its about the time and thought and love. Ive been thinking about my family and how incredibly important they are to me and wondering if I've shown them that. I've been so touched by the kindness, generosity and love of a good LDS ward.
And most importantly, I've been thinking more and more about the first gift of Christmas for me - the love of a Heavenly Father and the gift of a Savior to the world. The Savior is the reason. He is the light of the world. He is the most important friend I will ever have. Does He know of my love and devotion to Him? Have I spent my time wisely, are my sacrifices and service acceptable to Him? Have I tried with every breath that I take to repay my debt to Him? Have I let Him guide and direct me and my actions? Am I good enough?
Christmas wil never be the same. From this point on, its going to be so much better.
I am grateful for my Savior. For His friendship, His mercy, His love. Those are the greatest gifts that any of us will ever receive.
I hope you can find a place for Him this year. I hope you can feel of His love. He loves each of us, no matter what.
Monday, August 4, 2014
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Dear Fashion Industry,
Let's start with this. I love clothes. I love shoes. I love colors. I love jewelry. I love makeup. I love Project Runway more than I can say. But, in the same breath, let me tell you that I hate you.
I hate you for what you've done to me and to women all over the world.
You may be asking yourself right now, 'well, what have I done?'
You know very well what you did and what you're still doing.
Let me explain.
I am a plus sized vibrant, beautiful, colorful, fun loving, sparkly woman. I love pink and yellow and orange. I love pretty shoes. I love vintage dresses. I love anything that is sparkly. However, when I googled "plus size vintage" I found a few good websites, but more than that, I found a few really unkind ones. Ones that told me that I should wear smaller prints and darker colors because of my size. One that told me that 'full figured women' (silly fashion writers...we all know that means 'fat') should stick to flowing fabrics and long skirts. We should wear neutral colors such as black, navy, gray, black, brown, white, black and maybe the right shade of taupe because they're "slimming". We shouldn't wear horizontally situated prints like the so popular right now chevron print. Sad.
When I dug deeper and started looking for something adorable to wear to boost my self esteem a bit, I came across frumpy, tent like dresses in ugly, neutral, thrift store couch floral prints. There seemed to be quite a few solid colored pieces as well. But nothing that I fell in love with. The plus size dresses made me feel old, frumpy and sad...something that I am most definitely not.
And then, let's add my size 12 feet. I see them as a gift. If the world ever floods, I have flippers. Take that tiny feet people. However, when it comes to size 12 shoes...let's just say that those shoes would be best used in a hospital on the feet of a cranky, old cartoon style nurse that jabs you with needles or perhaps on the sloppy joe loving lunch lady portrayed by the ever funny Chris Farley.
Do I look like a lunch lady? I didn't think so. I really am more of a Carrie Bradshaw...in fashion...not life, mind you.
So, Fashion Industry, here it is. I'm beginning to think that you don't know me. That's fine, because I've decided that I don't like you. Why? Because neutral colors aren't slimming, they're boring. They don't hide the fat rolls, they hide my personality. Florals are for people who like to hang out in gardens and wear stinky perfume that smells like gardenias and baby powder. Not for me. I don't like flowing fabrics and dolman sleeves. I think they look like tents and I'm not camping. I refuse to dress like a couch or a pair of curtains. I am not a nurse or a lunch lady or an outdoor instructor. My feet may not be delicate and lady like, but I like cute shoes too. Sparkly ones. With high heels. And open toes. Ha.
You have become my arch nemesis-the Joker to my Batman. From this point on, I will hunt down every knee length, big patterned, bright colored, un-tent-like dress and I will wear them. I will wear them with shoes that match, even if I have to buy ugly ones and spray paint them sparkly silver. I will wear younger prints, colors and styles. I will avoid neutral colors at all costs, unless of course, they are merely an accent piece to whatever obnoxious style I will be wearing. And, let's be honest, there's nothing you can do about it. I don't care what you or anyone else thinks. I am a type one and I will dress like one. I will feel beautiful and vibrant. I might even wear a tutu one of these days. Ooh. Or a pretty, pink, polka dotted vintage dress with a full skirt and crinoline underneath and sparkly shoes with bows like these stunning Kate Spades...
Also, stop photo shopping everything...we're on to your game. Maybe you should stop focusing on skinny and start focusing on healthy and happy. Stop making skinny, fit girls feel fat and stop making fat girls feel super fat. It's unkind.
In closing, I think we need to end our relationship. I'll keep Project Runway and you can keep your stupid neutral colors and ugly floral prints.
It's really not me, it's you.
A Chubby Girl Who is Too Busy Loving Herself to Listen to You.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Recently, a local business announced that it was shutting it's doors-forever. People are in an uproar. I'm seeing all over social media sites that people are screaming to "save local businesses!" and "don't let the big box stores win!" Normally, I join them in their cries. I do.
But not this time.
Now, don't get me wrong. I love small businesses. They are the reason that I have a job. They are my customers and friends. Some of them are even family to me...because I, too, work for a small, family owned business. I respect the work, sweat, love, money, tears and time they've put in to building that business. I understand that every dollar means something. I understand that every employee is special to them. I understand that sometimes, they don't take a paycheck in order to cover expenses. I understand how small businesses work.
Now, with that being said- a week before a business closes is NOT the time to try to save the business. It's just not.
One woman commented on the article about the business saying that she had "gone there when (she) was a kid, how dare they close it!"
May I just point something out?
She WENT there. When she was a KID. So, like, what? 20 years ago? Probably.
Someone else commented that our community needs to support more small business....and then promptly went and bought things from Amazon. Yes. You go, citizen. You show the big box businesses how you support local business....oh wait. You don't.
Now, here's some advice.
If you REALLY want to save small, local, family owned businesses...you need to support them all the time. Not just when they're having a sale or when they're trying desperately to keep their doors open or they're liquidating everything in the store to be able to leave with some semblance of a profit. You need to support them on Mondays when you need milk or on Thursdays before your mom's birthday or on Saturday when you're going to lunch with your husband. Support them the week before Thanksgiving so that they can actually make a profit on the things they sell you. Support them. All the time. Give them your business, your recommendation and your money. Stop getting your groceries at WalMart. Stop buying crap online. Get your sheet music from your LOCAL music store. Stop shopping at Guitar Center. Use your local hardware store. STOP using Amazon. You may not know this, but places like Amazon and Guitar Center don't follow the rules that other businesses are expected to comply with. That's why things are cheaper there. Another reason to shop local? Chances are, if you shop locally, you'll get an expert with your purchase. They wouldn't be in that business if they didn't love it. They know what they're selling you because they use it. They believe in it. That's what the extra money pays for. It pays for expertise. For example, the guys at Guitar Center can't restring your guitar. They can't tell you why one type of wood is more resonant than another. They can't fix the bridge. For the most part, the local guy CAN do all of those things.
Support that guy. The one who loves his job and his products. The one who is fighting the big guys. Your screaming all over Facebook and Twitter about saving small business does NOTHING if you don't spend your money. NOTHING.
Support them all the time. Not just when they're closing they're doors.
That, my friends, is how small businesses are saved.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
As I was driving home for my lunch hour today, I was feeling a little grumpy. I was thinking about the dishes that needed done, the bathroom that needed cleaned, the piano that needed dusting, the litter box that needed changed, that I hadn't found a cat brother for Lily, the laundry to be done, bills to be paid...and that I didn't really want left over pulled pork for lunch.
And then, I saw him.
As I turned the corner in my car that is almost out of gas and is badly in need of a wash, I saw an older Native American gentleman sitting on a lawn near a government building. He had a large backpack with, what I assume, is everything he owns inside. He was eating a sandwich and drinking water, while resting on the soft green grass. He was clearly a wanderer that frequents one of the downtown shelters that I drive past every single day. My first thought was that it was so cold and windy today, he must be freezing. But as I looked closer, I realized he was smiling and singing to himself. I thought I should stop and help him, but he looked so peaceful and happy. And I didn't want to ruin that and remind him of his circumstance just to satisfy my need to save the world.
The rest of the way home, I found myself being grateful for my little, old home with peeling paint, my portable dishwasher, my one kitty, my dirty clothes, my unmade bed, the leftovers in my fridge, the heat bill, my gently used furniture, my hot water heater and my dirty car that needs gas. Heavenly Father has given me so much and sometimes, I'm annoyed at my tile counter tops because I'd prefer granite or quartz. I hate the ceramic tile on my floor with it's cracks and wish it was wood. How often do I thank Him for my blessings and then not actually be grateful for them? Every. Stupid. Day. I have so much to be grateful for. So, so much. Aside from the things already listed, I'm grateful for my good husband, my family, my job, my calling, the gospel and so much more.
Today, I'm actually going to show my gratitude for those things.