Float like a Butterfly

I celebrated my 37th birthday this past summer. This was my birthday present from hubby.

(This is for you, Mom!)

The butterfly tails trail down the side of my back, flowing back and forth over each other, and cross to the right side at my lower back. I got major props from my tattoo artist for going so big on my first tattoo!

For my next trick, I'm thinking lipstick-red highlights...

Before anyone starts thinking that I'm in an early midlife crisis, or trying to stay hip on campus, you must know that I've always been a little ... shall we say, expressive. Maybe eccentric. Never boring (see earlier post on my fear of blah.)

I tend to think that I finally got up enough guts to do something I've always wanted to do. Sounds like a lot of what I'm doing these days!

Hubby will get one, too. The sooner the better. (tattoos are super-sexy!)

Bodybuilding and Breakfast Tacos

At 7:37 am today, I looked around the house to determine what was missing, and I realized it was the noise of stress. Dad had whisked Luke away to school a couple of minutes earlier (so he wouldn't be late like he would've if he rode his bike that close to tardy-bell time.) Nate had already headed out for the bus stop. Suddenly I found myself alone in the house without even the heady, frantic noise of my mental to-do list rattling about between my ears.

The peace was so pervasive I could touch it. I smiled, closed my eyes and breathed it in, and moved on to breakfast.

I'm here alone, cooking only for myself. What do I want? Breakfast tacos!

But not my typically healthy tacos (or I should say taco, since I usually only eat one) of egg whites and lite cheese on wholegrain low-fat tortilla. Wes came home from his grocery-shopping excursion with traditional tortillas so fresh they were still warm. So I made tacos (yes, two) with those yummy-soft morsels, cheese (still lite), bacon (well, turkey bacon), and eggs (okay, still egg whites).

And ate them (both) surrounded by the peace of my home. I didn't feel (too) guilty until the last bite was gone. The experience was too genuinely gratifying to be accompanied by guilt. But it did make me think a bit.

*Confession time* I have gained about five pounds since last May, three of which have happened since the beginning of this semester. I began the semester with what I thought was a workable workout plan. Somewhere in the last couple of weeks, however, I confiscated the two hours I had set aside for weight training and applied them to studying. I guess I robbed Arnold to pay Einstein. And somewhere along the way I decided it was too mentally taxing to concern myself too much with the overall nutritive value of my meals. I still have some habits I don't normally dispose of; I choose wheat over white (well...usually) lean over fatty. But veggies? Fruit? Counting carbs and fat grams? Limiting caffeine and amping up water intake? HA! I'm seriously lacking in those areas.

A little background here, in case you've wandered in from off the street.

I ended each pregnancy with the scale needle pointing to a number larger than 215 pounds; I am 5'4". Needless to say, that's too heavy. I finally overcame a lifelong weight problem with fitness and nutrition, a journey of enlightenment that started when Luke was a toddler and has branched off into my premed studies. Before I started university, I became a certified personal trainer and a group fitness instructor. The fitness industry was trending toward degreed and licensed fitness professionals, so I began my undergraduate degree pursuit studying exercise and sports science. I always had the doctor goal in mind, but realized that the exercise science route would probably take twice the time as biology would, and the mirror reminds me I'm not growing younger.

But even before my fitness fetish led me to teach, it led me to compete. Bodybuilding. Actually, figure competition - more like bodybuilding 'lite'. It's the beauty pageant's long-lost cousin, emerging on the bodybuilder's stage. A little less muscle, a lot more glam.

This is me at my last competition.

Compared to the *now* photo on my profile, it's obvious that I'm not quite in the same physical condition. Which is fine, really, considering what it took to get there. My alarm clock would wake me up at 4:30 am every morning to workout before work. I consumed so little calories that I could barely think, and they were all precisely partitioned into percentages coming from lean protein, complex carbohydrates (not much of these,) and healthy fats (even less of these.) It took so much attention and mental energy on top of the physical output that it became an obsession. PLUS, I leaned out so much that I entered amenorrhea (my periods stopped) and it took my cycle six-plus months to recalibrate. Talk about horrendous hormones...

Although I've determined that it's not worth it to me to pursue bodybuilding, I still would *love* to hold on to the healthy lifestyle changes I made that brought me down the scale and to my current educational pursuit. I hear, however, many premed students lamenting the paradox of neglecting their own health in order to become a health care provider. I have personal experience in my background that should keep me from that paradox; it should firmly ensconce me far away from that paradox.

My best friend has regularly expressed surprise when I divulge that my workouts are no longer regular. She always assumed that once I won the battle over laziness I'd never relapse. Truthfully, I assumed that, too.

But it's not really laziness. There are, after all, so many hours in a day. If I have to re-allocate minutes from sweating to studying in order to survive in school, I have to hope that I can pick up fitness habits again before I develop adult-onset diabetes, or even severe "Dunlap syndrome."

Now, if I can convince my husband to not buy homemade flour tortillas...

An Oldie but Goodie

Transplanted cornea still sees after 123 years
But 'my vision's not great,' says 80-year-old man who received eye in 1958

OSLO - Bernt Aune’s transplanted cornea has been in use for a record 123 years — since before the Eiffel Tower was built.

“This is the oldest eye in Norway — I don’t know if it’s the oldest in the world,” Aune, an 80-year-old Norwegian and former ambulance driver, told Reuters by telephone on Thursday. “But my vision’s not great any longer.”

He had a cornea transplanted into his right eye in 1958 from the body of an elderly man who was born in June 1885. The operation was carried out at Namsos Hospital, mid-Norway.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the oldest living organ in the world,” eye doctor Hasan Hasanain at Namsos hospital told the Norwegian daily Verdens Gang.

In the 1950s, doctors expected it to work for just five years, Hasanain said. Such cornea operations date back to the early 20th century and were among the first successful transplants.

“It wasn’t unusual to use corneas from elderly people who had died,” Aune said.

The Eiffel Tower was built from 1887 to 1889. U.S. inventor Thomas Edison patented a film camera for motion pictures in 1888.
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Wow!!!

I'm feeling much better

(I'm not dead yet!) I think I'll go for a walk...

Took the weekend to sharpen the saw. I studied some, but went to church more and spent time with family and friends even more. Didn't realize exactly how much I needed the refresher.

I still don't know what I made on the midterm, but am already grasping the material much better. I'm prepping for labs and lectures for tomorrow, and am standing on much more solid ground now.

So, no more whines or complaints (at least not for now...)

Wishing I had something more noble, intellectual, or at least pithy to say than this, but I don't. I just couldn't leave me poor blog in such dire straits as was left with the last postings. Gawrsh, who wrote that!

Picture Perfect

Ouch! That's what I feel like today:

http://nbcsports.msnbc.com/id/27156844/displaymode/1107/framenumber/13/s/2/

Coping

That's something I'm not doing too well, at least not today.

In my first post I discoursed about the growing demographic known as non-traditional students. My mom, who went back to college when I was a kid, told me that there wasn't even a name for it when she did it. Since so many of my generation have discovered that you can never stop learning (for some reason or another) we've named ourselves.

I know that there are others out there doing what I'm doing. I know they're carrying full-time class loads while parenting and spousing and home-owning and all the other things that go on in their lives. What I don't know is, do they all feel like they're losing their f***ing minds like I do??

I'd really love to know...

I took my organic chemistry midterm this past week. I haven't seen my grade yet; in fact I'm frightened to. It occurred to me on my way in to take the test, careening on the edge of panic and sleep deprivation, that it might be a blessing to fail the test and the class, because I understand so little about this foundational subject that I don't think I could go on in chemistry from here after this semester. I have heard how hellacious this class is, I just didn't really believe anyone who said that. I had no real standard to compare it to. I thought, well general chem was difficult at first, but I got through both semesters of it with an A -- surely o-chem is manageable!

*whimper!*

This class has removed my liver in an unceremonious manner by way of my throat, without anesthetic. And I'm only halfway through it. I'm expected to continue on, sans liver, and leave the class after the final with a smile, as if I learned something. (Besides how to live without a major organ, that is.)

I tend to think it's not just organic chemistry, though. It's that, on top of all the things that come with life past the traditional student age bracket. But when I look around (on my whiny days, wondering if I'll make it) at other mature students -- grad students, or even those pursuing doctorates while working full time in their career (which, undoubtedly, is a much more stringent regimen) -- I'm the only one I see complaining. Of course, this only reinforces my self doubt.

If there are any other mothers-or-fathers/full time students who happen to be reading along and want to chime in, please do, and save this poor girl from what has become a 24/7 self-deprecating pity party, please?!

(Okay, end of the painfully-insane drivel I'm calling a post)

Neglect

O poor blog
so empty and white
not full of words
both pithy and light

Do you weep from neglect
with head hung low?
Or do you wait patiently
for your screen to glow?

O poor blog
do not despair
One day organic chemistry
will let me up for air

On that day with words of glee
or pain, depending on test's grade,
I'll cover you from length to width
with thoughts, ideas, and ...

or I'll prepare for the next calculus test. (I need a drink!)