cindy's world

My wedding makeup lady gave me a week-long diet plan that’s supposed to be safe and effective. She said she’s given out the diet for years, and everyone who tried it have lost weight. According to the diet, at day 3 I should have lost 5-7 pounds. I’m dubious, but the first few days of the plan appears to be a high fiber cleanse, so maybe the average person has 5-7 pounds of poo to clean out, I dunno. Well, in the spirit of my engagement photos in 2 weeks, I thought I’d give it a shot. Feel free to do it along with me!

I took the plan with me to Fresh & Easy and bought all the food I’m supposed to eat for the week. $35 got me this:

Not depicted is a carton of milk, a jug of orange juice, and a package of frozen veggies. I just forgot about them.

Living alone, I don’t grocery shop much, so I was surprised how much things cost. Plus, I assume all the food prices were driven up recently from the gas crap going on. But when I think about it, if I ate out by myself, $35 would’ve gotten me 2-3 meals, so if this truly lasts a week I’m doing great.

So tonight I made some vegetable soup that I’m supposed to consume all week long. The ingredients are:
6 large green onions
6 fresh tomatoes
1 large head of cabbage
2 green peppers
1 bunch of celery
3 cubes of bouillon (I subbed in a can of organic chicken broth)

After a loooong time spent chopping the above to death with a small but very sharp knife, I dumped the chunks of veggies into a giant pot I happened to have. The makeup lady told me to half the recipe because “Who the heck could drink this much soup? Good grief.” Well, if this is going to last through the week, I could. I didn’t half it. I regetted that decision mid-way into hacking the giant head of cabbage, pieces all over my kitchen counter, sink and floor. The pot was filled all the way to the top with cabbage.

It took a long time for the veggies to shrink down so that the lid could sit all the way down.

The rule with the soup is, “Eat as much as you want, whenever you want. This soup will not add calories. The more you eat, the more you will lose. Fill a thermos in the morning if you will be away during the day. If eaten alone for indefinite periods, you will suffer malnutrition.” Oh, pshaw. The way I eat (or rather, don’t eat), there’s no way adding food to my week will give me malnutrition. I’m now waiting for the soup to finish boiling so that I can season it with “salt, pepper, curry, parsley, bouillon, or hot sauce, if desired.”

Tomorrow will be Day 1. The rule for Day 1: “ALL FRUITS except bananas. Eat only the soup and fruits. For drink — unsweetened tea, cranberry juice, or water.”

The phrase meaning “to pant” is “sucking wind,” right? How come when I typed that in the title, I suddenly got the mental image of some big strange man bending over, my face behind his butt, and breathing deeply in with my mouth while he farts?

I was feeling better last nite after speaking to my realtor, but of course after the fight I was wheezing again. I went to the gym at lunch, did heavy weights which impressed a judge that happened to be at the gym, noted my slow recovery time in between sets as I gasped to get air into my lungs, and then when I got back to work, I staggered to a bailiff who used to be a paramedic before she became a sheriff. I asked her the symptoms of asthma, and she said she has her stethoscope in her courtroom so we went there and she listened to all 4 quadrants of my lungs and to my heart. She said altho my pulse is fast, it’s strong and clean, and my lungs sound clear. If it’s allergen-induced asthma, it’s still very mild. If it doesn’t clear up in a week, she said to see the doctor.

Then she asked if I was stressed or having panic attacks. I said I wasn’t stressed and how could I be panicking for 5 days straight? She said I may not be aware of my panic or stress, but my body knows. After all, I have a lot going on right now. Wedding’s coming up, there’s the house thing so of course finances are an issue. I shrugged.

When we got to Mr. W’s house earlier, I beelined for his laptop and got on my blog. Mr. W suddenly said, “OOOOH, I know what your panic attacks and stress is over! Internet withdrawal!” I said that Vanessa had already said that. She commented in the post about my breathing problems that my body is having stress attacks out of boredom since I can’t go online during work. Turned out Mr. W meant something slightly different. “You go right for the computer when you get home. You’re anxious from not being able to blog and write when you’re at work.” That’s true. Blogging has been a major source of therapy for me, and not being able to blog forces me to keep thoughts and emotions bottled up inside with no pressure release for HOURS. I also haven’t been sleeping much cuz what am I doing in the evenings at home? Getting my online time in! Maybe I should start writing blog posts at work to email to myself.

I spoke to Dwaine briefly on the drive home earlier. He said he’d taken a peek at this blog earlier in the week and saw all the photos posted from Mr. W’s niece’s wedding this past weekend. He said he wanted to comment but didn’t want readers who don’t know who he is to me to take it the “wrong way,” but that I looked great in that dress in all the photos I’m in, and that he could tell I’ve been working out and he wanted to give me props for being in the current shape that I’m in. I thanked him heartily, said that my regular readers know who he is to me because I talk about him fairly regularly and reminded him that he’d commented before. He’s even had comment rapport with my regular readers. So he went online and commented after we hung up. Cuz he’s cool and generous like that.

I was too guilty and sheepish to tell him that I’ve only been to the gym once this week, and that just in the past 2 days alone, my food intake consisted of:
Wed lunch, Employee Appreciation Day free food:
3 slices of Costco pizza (cheese; pepperoni; everything)
piece of cake
Wed dinner at Claim Jumper:
half a rotisserie chicken
steamed veggies
basmati rice (which sounds okay, until you get to my dessert)
3 flavors of creme brulee (lemon amaretto; green tea & ginger; chocolate mocha)
Today at work:
rehydrated vegetable soup from a packet
2 handfuls of minty rice M&Ms
giant chocolate muffin
another piece of Costco cake (brought up by my courtroom assistant from a coworker’s housewarming luncheon today)
a bite of donut
like 8 lardful spring onion crackers

Dwaine didn’t know it, but he’s guilted me into going to the gym tonight, as soon as the evening crowd dies down.

Today is the 3rd day that I’ve been having “breathing problems.” I put that in quotes because I’m not sure it’s physical so much as mental. I feel like I can’t get enough air in my lungs when I inhale, so I end up taking deep breaths through my mouth, stretching my lungs as much as possible, and even those breaths don’t feel like they’re filling my lungs with enough oxygen. I imagine this is the sensation if I’m in very high altitude and can’t catch my breath. The reason why I think it’s just a sensation and not actual oxygen starvation, is because I’d take these consecutive deep breaths with my mouth, and after a few seconds I’d feel dizzy and nauseated. That means I’m hyperventillating and losing too much carbon dioxide in the CO2/O2 balance, right? That means I AM getting oxygen. And yet I feel like my diaphragm has problems expanding. I try to tell myself it’s just in my head, so that I wouldn’t panic. The thought of asphyxiating nearly throws me into a panic attack where I gasp for breath even harder, now more convinced that my lungs have stopped working.

I tested the oxygen exchange in a different way today. I had to go from the 3rd floor to the 7th floor, and I took the stairs at a fast pace. I was panting when I got to my destination, but I recovered in a few minutes. I guess that was a good thing, cuz if it turns out I AM having asthmatic symptoms or whatever, I would’ve just passed out or something.

Mr. W asked if I may be having panic attacks. I told him I didn’t think so, since I’m not anxious or panicking. I’ve had short bouts of sensation like this before, usually alleviated by unhooking my bra so that my diaphragm feels less restricted, and in any case, it’d only last for an hour or less. This is the first time it’s been days.

It seems to have started a few days after I started using that new Crest desensitizing toothpaste. Could it be that the toothpaste numbed my throat, tonsils, and uvula so that I no longer have the sensation of cool air going down my pharnyx, so it feels as if oxygen is not being sucked in? I’ve switched back to my old toothpaste starting today.

I’ve been good about gymming Thursday (did it on the way home from work) and yesterday (did it during lunch) because the freak cheeks are really inspiring that way. I also sucked down some dandelion root capsules yesterday because my Gym Trainee swears by them as a natural diuretic to debloat. She takes 1/3 the dose and pees out more water than she knew was in her. I took maximum dose (3 capsules each time) and it didn’t do squat. Either it’s not working for me, or I’m NOT bloated, which means the cheeks are here to say! Waaah!

Mr. W made my dad a tuxedo appointment with his contact for today at 6pm, and my mom and I have that bridal gown alteration appointment at 3p, so apparently my dad decided to come with my mom and me so that we’re all together and could hit both appointments as a family. My dad is gonna be sooooo bored at the bridal fitting. But maybe he could distract my mom from criticizing me too much.

Okay, I’m now off to the gym to do some massive cardio round, my parents will meet me at the bridal place at 3, we’ll all come back to my place, Mr. W will come here to pick us all up, and then it’s off to the tux fitting. I get to hand them their invites that they’re gonna hand-deliver to their friends, too. Then we can have dinner together and hopefully meet up with our realtor to talk about house-hunting for real. If you think that sounds productive, my mom has already been up for 5 hours doing tai chi and country line dancing at a local park that offers recreational classes and is now shopping at a nearby store, and my dad’s been fishing since the buttcrack of dawn.

What’s up with my chipmunk cheeks? Gah. I don’t get it. It’s not like my body is that bloated. I mean, I’m not at the lowest weight I’ve ever been, but I shouldn’t be fat enough to look like I’m hiding marshmallows in my cheeks. Is there such a thing as cheek lipo? But if I really AM fatter than I think (bathroom scale still not working), I’m sure my mother will tell me on Saturday. An hour ago she invited herself to come with me this Saturday to my wedding gown alteration appointment. She initially invited my dad along, too, but I convinced her he wouldn’t want to go to something like that. I can hear her now when she sees the dress on me for the first time. “I still think you should get something with sleeves to cover your big arms. Maybe they’ll take this dress back as a trade-in. Want me to go ask them?”

But it is my fault if I did chunk up. Due to our current child molestation trial (my court reporter discovered that the common denominator among child molesters appears to be ownership of a van. Hence, if I am ever a mother I will not buy a van or befriend anyone who owns a van.) running late into lunch and our marriage license appointment yesterday among other factors which mostly translate to “we didn’t feel like it”, Gym Trainee and I missed our noontime workouts this entire week. But we did walk Monday, Tuesday and today at lunch to run our various errands. We probably put in a solid hour of walking the first two days. Today, however, the walk ended at a local Mexican food restaurant, I ate half a wet burrito that had such a spicy red sauce that the heartburn lasted me through the afternoon, well into the evening, through my gym workout after work, and made me so sluggish and sick that I took way longer breaks in between sets than I should have. I’m sure the crumb donut and half a cookie I had before I left work (leftovers from the jurors) didn’t help, either.

I’m a house mouse with chipmunk cheeks.

Vanessa emailed this picture to me from Vanessa night this past weekend. It’s Vanessa, me, and Mr. W at Tapas Restaurant.

Speaking of the weekend, I can’t believe I forgot to mention in the post that on Monday, Mr. W got even more acquainted with his Asian side by going in for his first acupuncture treatment. We must’ve gone to 4, 5 Asian sundries stores trying to find those wooden beaded car seat covers as he’d hoped that the acupressure massaging action would relieve his sciatica pain. No one carried the item anymore. I called my mom asking if we had any covers at home, and mom said she’d just days before thown theirs away. Apparently those seat covers are too fobby even for my parents. My mom then recommended her acupuncturist, who she says not only miraculously cured her sciatica pain in just 1 session, but also cured that of many of her coworkers.

I have to say it was pretty gross to see 30 needles sticking way out of Mr. W’s nekkid back, butt and legs. *heebie jeebies* He’s got a second treatment appointment tomorrow at the same time I have a makeup appointment to do a meet-and-greet with my wedding makeup/hair people.

Truly, not having internet at work sucks. I had to run and borrow someone else’s computer many floors up (I took the stairs and arrived panting) to send an email canceling one makeup artist after hiring another one this morning. I’m also way behind in blogging. I also realized, it’s not even like I’m getting a significant increase in productivity without internet. It just keeps me from doing little things like online banking and looking up attorney addresses and phone numbers, as well as looking up weird terminology for my court reporter’s transcripts. I don’t play games online.

Friday was Vanessa (“Busykitty”) night. She graduated with her AA degree on Thursday and celebrated with dinner at Tapas Restaurant in Newport Beach. Mr. W and I arrived ridiculously early, as being with Mr. W we’re wont to do, and sat at the bar while waiting for everyone else to get there. The good thing about arriving that early is that we got happy hour pricing and ordered half-price sangrias and a sliced Spanish chorizo appetizer plate. After the party arrived and was seated and I met a ton of Vanessa’s family as well as Jay’s little girl Jayla, Mr. W ordered more tapas that we shared. Mr. W had been to the restaurant before and got to relive his days in Spain through the food. Vanessa’s sister was also part of the flamenco performance troupe that performed there that night. Mr. W kept whispering to me all night “In Spain the food blah blah,” “Flamenco dancing is supposed to be blah blah.” I guess before Mr. W is as Asian fobby as he is now, he was Spanish. Vanessa’s family had multiple graduations this summer in the group, her youngest sister and brother-in-law with their Bachelor’s degrees, their mother with her Master’s, and a niece graduated from elementary school. They joked about how they represented the entire spectrum of degrees. By the way, Vanessa looked adorable with little girl Jayla on her hip. She toted the toddler to meet us when we were still at the bar, and when Jayla started a whine, Vanessa nipped it right away by asking her gently, “What do want? Use your words.” Jayla responded instantly by using a word and pointing, making it understood she wanted to hang out with Vanessa’s teenage niece Janece (okay, I have no idea how to spell her name) who, by the way, is a freaking hilarious girl. Even tho it rained that night, it didn’t dampen any spirits!

Saturday, Mr. W and I got into a fight bright and early because I was so pissed that he made plans for 8am. Who makes plans for 8 am on a SATURDAY?! I saw no reason why the exact same plans couldn’t be made an hour or two later. The only thing redeeming was that the plans were with Gym Trainee and her son. We went to the same guy Mr. W bought his wedding tuxedos from and bought the son, Evan, a kid’s tux. I always describe Evan as “a 40 year-old trapped in the body of a 10 year-old and seriously angry about that fact”. Evan’s been bugging his mom for a tux for a long time and now, he has one with 3 different vests he could swap out for different looks at upcoming graduation in June and at our wedding in August. After getting the best deal I’ve ever heard of for this name-brand tux ensemble, we set off for UCLA. The 10 year-old was scoping out potential colleges. If you think graduating from elementary school is too early for him to start looking, to Evan this is already delayed because he’d expected to attend college immediately upon graduating from kindergarten and cried his eyes out when his mom had to explain his misunderstanding to him. He’s been researching boarding junior high and high school for himself because he discovered that some scholastic-based programs will pay scholarships toward universities. The reason we were going to UCLA is to let him decide between setting his goals there as a local university, or Yale. Don’t laugh; he has the grades to back that up and I expect to see great things from him in the future. (Did I tell you he taught himself to read by the time he was 3?) Our two UCLA virgins were good sports about walking everywhere on foot, from South Campus to North Campus, to Westwood for Diddy Riese‘s ice cream sandwiches (up to $1.50 now, $.50 increase from last time; I tried an authentic Hawaiian-style shave ice with the scoop of vanilla ice cream inside), back to UCLA to the dorm area, then to the car on campus. (Mr. W bitched and moaned a lot, refusing to walk where I wanted to take the tour and instead took them through back halls and behind buildings where I don’t think we were allowed to go plus didn’t present the best views of campus, and I was pissed at him for the entire night for taking over my tour and other things.) Mr. W wanted to go to the obnoxiously-reputed Ed Debevic’s restaurant in Beverly Hills for dinner afterwards, but when we got there we saw that it was gone (HA-ha!), so we kept going down Restaurant Row/La Cienega toward the Beverly Center. I thought we could hit up Hard Rock Cafe or Browne Derby, but they were both closed, too. I suddenly felt old. “I remember when this wasn’t here and instead it was…”. We did stumble upon a freaking amazing restaurant called The Grand Lux Cafe where a bank used to be. The overhead drop chandelier fixtures were amazing, not to mention the decorative tin ceilings and marble pillars. And the food!! Such a large menu of everything from gourmet pizzas to steak to seafood. And when the food arrived, the portion sizes made our mouths and eyes open wide. Evan was eating his giant burger the whole weekend, and I was doing the same with my 4-person-serving sized flatbread chicken sandwich. The experience was so delicious and impressive all-around that Gym Trainee told me Evan wants to go back there for his birthday this year instead of their usual Lucille’s BBQ, his old favorite. She also told me he was getting his stuff together to brag to his friends about his tour of UCLA when he got back to school. You know the kid’s in a good private school when visiting a college is “brag” material among his elementary school pals. What was I bragging about at 10? Hmm, new Barbie accessories, cool erasers that picked up after themselves, oragami and rubber band tricks.

Sunday, Mr. W was a sweetheart and made a point of letting me sleep in. We eventually got up and ran a bunch of errands like getting ocean water for his fish tank, more liquors I could use for my cocktails, a book about the Japanese surrender in WWII that my judge wanted for his birthday (I can’t read that stuff; hence why he’s the judge), and then visited my parents. During a delicious homemade dinner, my mom gave me some motherly essential advice for the wedding (this week it was to avoid sunlight so I don’t accidentally get tan; last week it was to stop working out immediately so I don’t get big; it seems like my lifestyle is just a huge mess to my mom), then we all went for a brisk but long walk around the hilly neighborhood. My mom’s been attending dancing and tai chi classes regularly with her friends at a local park, and my dad was using the alone-time to reacquaint himself with his beloved pastime of fishing, so they were both in great spirits this weekend. They also both look significantly healthier from their increased activity levels.

Monday, Mr. W and I went to his ex-bro-in-law best buddy’s house for the wife’s birthday. She turned 39 and bought herself a brand new cherry-red Corvette. Mr. W’s son had told us that they had a huge party the day before (Sunday) with like 70 people in attendance, so the fact that we were not a part of that but had been invited instead to a BBQ the following day was confusing to us. We were like, “If you didn’t want to invite us to your party, there’s no need to throw a SEPARATE one.” I was wondering how they’d behave about their party, whether they’d keep it from us or make some excuse. But they talked about the event the night before and the guests they knew in common with Mr. W as if expecting us to know about it, giving people updates and talking about all the leftover food they had, pulling a few items out for us to munch on. The wife said something about one of their guests wanting to bring a cake, but that wife had told the guest that she was going to have cake with the kids and us the next day (which turned out to be a delicious raspberry jam white cake). So I guess they’d deliberately planned a more intimate BBQ for us and the kids (their kids and Mr. W’s kids are cousins, and they had their girlfriends and friends over, too) so they could hang out with and talk to us the whole time. The wife had also deliberately arranged this hoping that Mr. W could get together with and talk to his MIA daughter. I’m not sure if meeting up is going to make communication between them any better, but at least it broke the ice.

Today (well, I consider it Tuesday even tho it’s way early Wed morning), I was a good girl and despite not having Mr. W or Gym Trainee on the same lunch hour as me, I nevertheless hit the gym alone at lunch and worked my upper body, and went back after work for a cardio session. Yay, me!

Oh, photos to follow.

Aside from a floss mishap, I had a really good day. After meeting with the Garden’s wedding coordinator last weekend, my two major concerns were the DJ and hair/makeup person. Dwaine and I have an old German class schoolmate who’s gotten into DJ equipment as a hobby. He DJed Dwaine’s birthday a couple of years ago and did a great job. I figured if he were willing, he could DJ the wedding and I’d save like $800/hour. I spoke to him and he was willing, although he had some concerns because he didn’t have a microphone, had never DJed professionally, and didn’t have his own speakers. Turned out he’d simply wired his turntable and equipment to Dwaine’s home speakers. The Garden charges $400 to borrow their speakers, we don’t know if our friend’s equipment is compatible with the Garden’s speakers or the quality of their speakers, doesn’t allow our friend to go in with his stuff to test out the compatibility before the wedding, and our friend isn’t comfortable MCing so we’ll still need someone to introduce the wedding party and guide the reception events. This week I have a new courtroom assistant filling in for my regular one who’s on vacation, and she mentioned the huge party she was throwing for her daughter next month and talked about how great the DJ was she’d found, how affordable, what a total package he was. Instantly I perked up and asked for his contact number. Today, I booked him. Because DJing is his professional hobby (not his day job) and because we knew people in common, he charged me a flat rate of $500 for the night, and he comes with all the equipment and music we could possibly conceive of, not to mention professional experience DJing and MCing! He came highly recommended, does research on the location, its rules and setup beforehand, seems very confident and flexible, and has a great work ethic. What luck! Now I can let our German class friend off the hook.

As for the hair/makeup person, the girl that childhood friend Lily recommended quoted me $699 for my hair/makeup. Yow. Yet she quoted Lily’s soon-to-be sister-in-law in the $300s, and was also in the $300s for Lily’s wedding makeup. I mentioned that to bridesmaid Sandy, who is now looking into another hair/makeup artist that she and her family had used before. Sandy’s girl is an award-winning makeup artist and should be more affordable than $699. Hopefully Sandy gets back to me soon with good news that the girl is available my wedding day and will do affordable bridal party hair and makeup, so I can cancel my $120 trial/consultation with Lily’s girl at the end of this month.

The wedding isn’t the only front where I felt lucky to have friends today. I got an email from Mike (“wilco”) telling me that he’d written an email program such that if I sent an email to a particular address with the URL of a website, his program would email me back a text version of that website. He developed the program because I’ve lost internet access at work and can’t keep up with anyone’s blogs anymore. I was so touched, and so impressed at Mike’s techie skills! I had no idea an email-linked program like that could even be written.

I even got Mr. W a connection. He’s been complaining about sciatica pain for awhile, and massages only help temporarily. He attributes the problem to sitting on his wallet for too many years. In our phone conversation after work today, he told me that he’d gone to 99 Ranch Market last night looking for those fobby car seat covers made of wooden beads in hopes that the accupressure would relieve his pain. Luckily for him, though, he didn’t find the covers. I suddenly thought to ask bridesmaid Sandy if her chiropractor boyfriend treated sciatica, and his response was “Of course!” Yay!

Are you guys wondering about the “floss mishap”? Let’s just say that I’ve got a psychotically tight space between two back teeth. So tight that regular floss, sewing thread, titanium wire shred and break instantly in there, leaving uncomfortable high-pressure residue in between the teeth. Expensive thick no-shred floss (from my judge) either shreds and breaks too, or is just too thick to even go in between those two teeth. All the attempts only ripped up the corner of my mouth, some knuckles that had to rub against my teeth, fingertips that had to push the floss to no avail. I was thinking I had to wait hours with that pain to get off work, drive home, and use my normal floss that’s always worked. Finally, my court reporter dug out of her cabinet some sample new-age floss that’s apparently been blessed by fairies and the love-induced tears of a unicorn, because that finally went in between my teeth and despite breaking two or three times, there was still enough left of that sample to get in there and dig out the broken first floss and thread, all bloody and balled up.

I’m grateful for good friends and all the things they do for me.

Today I got a card in the mail from dentist Andy’s office. It says “Welcome” in the front and the inside is printed “Welcome to our office! We’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for your recent visit to our office. We look forward to serving you again.” It is personally signed by everyone in the office — the receptionists, hygienists, the assistants, and of course Dr. Andy with a personal word of “Welcome!” written above his name. Paperclipped to the inside of the card is a credit card sized plastic pack of dental floss, on which is printed the dental offices’ business information. It just leaves a nice (squeaky clean) taste in a patient’s mouth.

I also received in the same bundle of mail a letter from the first scammer dental office. Sure the form letter thanks me for my recent trip to their office, that’s the first sentence. The rest of the page-long typed letter is about how I could “benefit from learning more about the various services provided by an Oral Surgeon,” which they defined as someone “specializing in tooth removal and jaw disorders.” I don’t have a jaw disorder! Then they urge me to schedule an appointment with their Oral Surgeon. Along with the letter they sent…not free dental floss but a brochure that tells me why I should get my wisdom teeth surgically removed. (Last week they also sent me an email cleverly giving me the top 10 reasons why I should let them remove my wisdom teeth, and the first reason was something about how even if wisdom teeth are healthy and not problematic, removing them would help prevent future problems that may occur on wisdom teeth. Well under THAT logic, why don’t I just get ALL my teeth pulled to prevent ALL future cavities?) The stupid thing is that this brochure is printed by the American Dental Association and not by this office, and it goes over different types of problematic wisdom teeth with diagrams, and I DON’T HAVE ANY OF THOSE ISSUES!

I hate the scammer dental office.