These are the days of our lives.. or unlives depending..

Yes, I've been watching that damn epic teenangster Vampire Diaries drivel and it has me ensnared in its tentacles of drama.  I guess it shouldn't be shocking that I suddenly have a bit of a break out on my face, so I also get to 'look' like I'm a dorky teenager, except for those pesky wrinkles and age spots.

Growing up in southern California has its perks.  Mostly it's all about the weather.  There is also a plethora of things to do that are very specific to the area and the beach is always 20 minutes away.  The biggest drawback I can think of is that I was raised around people who cared entirely too much about how they looked.  This was something I have carried with me my whole life.  This vanity, my best and worst friend ever.  This constant worry about my nose, it's too big, oh and I'm fat, and I have ugly knees.

People seriously are saturated with having to worry and fix or attempt to fix all of their flaws.  This has helped form who I am, and as sad as that is, I can't seem to let it go.  I don't much care about what others particularly think of me, but I have standards and 'expectations' of myself to a degree.  I expect to age, sure, but I don't want to.

Do I want to live forever like the vampires?  No.  I don't want to live forever.  Those poor people in Mystic Falls have some serious problems because they will live forever or whatever.  I want to age.  I just don't want to LOOK like I'm aging.  I can't have it both ways.  Hell, vampires aren't real, so I can only have it one way.

Tomorrow I'm going to the dermatologist, we'll talk about my age spots and wrinkles and maybe remove some pesky moles.  Like the ones that could be cancerous or whatever.  If I'm honest, I'd say how very much I wish I could have my breasts lifted, my nose fixed, and a face lift.  The sad part is that I've 'planned' on needing these alterations from the time I was about 13.

Vanity.  Best, worst, and ever present constant friend...  I realize it's silly and shallow.  I get it.  Really, it's part of who I am, just not the best part of who I am.

UPDATE: Got the spot removed.  So for posterity, no makeup, bulbous nose and all, here is why people should always wear sunscreen - so that they don't need spots burned off of their faces.

Back on the wagon Day 1

My two year old doesn't care that I've got big plans today to be productive and motivated to start losing weight.  I got a shake for breakfast and currently I am stuck watching Oso, wondering if he really needs to sit right on top of me.  Twice I've removed him and he attached himself to my leg.  It's going to be one of those days.

My new proposed plan is going to have to include a needy toddler.  That doesn't mean my meal plan will suffer, however, my ideas about exercise will have to be changed.  I also woke up congested.

While it feels like a conspiracy, I actually think this is par for the course when I try to stay on the wagon of better health.

Speaking of ego..

Driven by a desire to know about my kids health from a DNA perspective, I had everyone in my house, and even some outside of my house, spit in a tube and sent it off to 23andme.com.  All of the results are in, and some of it kind of sucks, but most of it is just fine.

The problem is I'm sitting here picking apart random things about their DNA that may not make sense to me.  My two year old looks a lot more like me than my ten year old, and apparently, just IS a lot more like me than his sister.  While his 'IQ' DNA looks about right, or on par with what his sister got and his older brother (but not in the same IQ category), he also got some not so great things from my DNA, that I wish would die in a fire and never surface ever.

So it's also kind of like the blame game.  My two year old is more prone to high blood pressure, so the first thing I do is blame his dad, because that matches what his dads DNA says too; and so on.. and so on etc.

It's not like I imagined I had some sort of control about what genes my kids got, but the ones I biologically contributed to, are beautiful and smart just as the one I did not biologically contribute to is beautiful and smart.  It's weird though that I want to blame myself, or my husband, for things that I did not want passed onto my kids.

It is all rather subjective actually, when I think about these percentages, and what do they really mean?  Chances for having this one disease, is 1.24x more than the average person.. honestly, that's not really all that much now is it?  Even though they may not have genes for cancer, if they smoke, they're probably going to get lung cancer etc.  So why take this on?  Oh, well didn't I tell you?  I'm totally supposed to be controlling this shit and why the fuck did I NOT make sure certain things were sorted out in the gene pool!?  (roll film of self berating miserable gnashing of teeth etc)

Ah, ego, you're such a bitch.

Out spot out!

Three. 

THREE FUCKING SPOTS.

On. My. Face.

What the fuck is happening to me?  I know this is limited reading for people who even know about this blog, but holy fucking shit... my vanity is taking a huge hit this week. 

I had one new spot, and I thought, it's pinkish, new, but maybe just dry skin or something.  What do I know, I'm not a dermatologist, so I make shit up that either makes me feel better or more paranoid depending on the day. 

This morning I woke up with two NEW spots right next to the now older spot. 

I seriously wanted to cry.  Instead I called a dermatologist.  Wish me luck, but either way, those spots will have to go.  I have freckles a plenty, I don't need MORE discoloration and uneven issues with my skin.. ugh!

All of those stupid years thinking I could ever accomplish a tan.. how stupid could I be.

I will conquer the spots. 

Great Expectations

When I was little, I had decided, that I was either going to die young and have a fabulous funeral where everyone would be wearing a glorious pre-planned color scheme, or, that I was going to be rich and have people to do the things that I didn't want to do. 

So, I'm not dead, and I'm not rich, but am I happy?  With age has come a new standard of expectations.  The problem is that said expectation is a sure way to set myself up for a let down when something doesn't measure up.  This is a generic problem and applies to just about any number of things in my life or even myself.  I've tried lowering my expectations etc.  Really though, lowering them just makes me bitter and think "well what the fuck is the point then!?". 

The problem is the expectation itself. 

I still don't have an answer, for how to live, without some sort of expectation.  I expect a certain kind of behavior from my children, spouse, family and close friends that I know well enough to predict.  When one of these categories is thrown off because someone is acting out of character, it means that, to me, an expectation hasn't been lived up to.  I do this to myself as well.  My weight gain, especially since having Mason, isn't something I really even want to face, but I've let myself down and I'm trying to figure out why I'm surprised about it. 

Obviously I had higher hopes and expectations of myself?  It could also be that I know I am more capable than I am currently allowing myself to be.  So is it that I don't need to change, but rather just let myself be more true to myself?  That's my current answer, I'm still hiding somewhere and wallowing inside about something and the only reason I have to be disappointed in myself, is simply that it's not who I really am.

Well, I've actually said I'm going to do it..

I'm deleting pictures from facebook, almost as I type this, going back and forth because obviously my ADD isn't managed correctly and focus is a million miles away.

Do I even want to keep my blog here?  I've tried moving away from blogger before, but it never worked, and mostly because I couldn't commit.  So I'll try this again, and see if it works, and maybe, just maybe I'll get more crap done because I won't be checking facebook every three minutes on my phone.  Ugh.

PS - Fixing the decor..