It's moderately early on a Saturday morning, I'm sitting here with my coffee listening to Sherman (one of our male pits) whine like mad because we have three females in heat right now. It's reduced him from a handsome badass looking boy to a whiny little bitch.
I didn't know what I wanted to post today, so I thought "why not weird shit about me"?
So you're getting weird facts about teh Vonnie.
1. I have this weird like dent thing at the crown of my head.
I have no idea what it is, neither do my parents. I have actually asked them if they dropped me on my head as a baby, though it wouldn't be unheard of if I actually climbed out of my crib and fell on my head. I was one of those babies. I wanted out, I climbed.
After my dad started to go bald, I noticed he had a similar dent, though it's not as pronounced as mine. Hopefully I will never go bald so mine will never be seen.
And if I do, there is always Wigs by Vanity, so I can feel my inner drag queen.
2. Thanks to my past eating disorder, some days I feel like Jabba the Hutt and some days I feel like Twiggy.
If you've been following me for some time, you've read about my struggles with weight. If not, check out my post about my struggle with eating disorders and weight.
Anyway, when one has an eating disorder, their self perception is generally fucked. Even with ribs showing, some days I'd still feel like the biggest thing on the planet, even though I weighed around 100lbs. Even now, at something like 145lbs (thank you aging and broken ankle), I have some days where I feel like I'm as big as a mountain, and some days where I feel like I'm crazy skinny.
Today I feel crazy skinny. For once I don't think my thighs look massive, even though they haven't shrunken at all in the last twenty four hours.
Either way, I have a power song thanks to Willam and Latrice.
3. I have weird double jointed fingers.
I think that's what you'd call them. I can hyperextend them. To some people, it's gross, but I think it's pretty cool. I guess it's not normal to be able to put my finger at a near 90 degree angle.
According to my family, the fact I can do this with my fingers is pretty weird, too.
Do any of you have weird hand things like that? Or any other weird body things like that? Please tell me I'm not the only one.
4. When I was a child, I wanted to be a Muppet when I grew up.
And I was going to be the coolest fucking muppet, too.
I'm not sure what my child mind was thinking as far as logistics of this, on the note of "how was I going to go from human to muppet".
Keep in mind, I did not want to voice a muppet or be a puppet operator, I wanted to be one.
I suppose I could have chosen something stranger, like a fire truck.
5. I get so motion sick in a car, I have to have a prescribed patch to keep the vomiting and illness at bay.
It's the weirdest thing, but it's a part of the illness and such I have with my inner ear.
I have valium, which takes care of some of the dizziness. Yes, in small doses it does help to numb the sensation between my brain and my ears in a sense, but in large doses it makes me the happiest person on the damn planet.
Unfortunately, one can build a dependency on Valium. I have already been addicted to something before (will explain in a minute), so I wanted something that had somewhat of the same effect of not making me hurl all over the car but something I couldn't get so hooked on I turned into a little pill junkie.
Luckily there are a patch that lasts for three days, that are generally used for people who are going on vacation on a boat or flying, but I'm so sensitive that I have to have them just to travel in a car.
I can ride a bike all day long, it's just something about the car.
I'll have to try driving again soon, because I never get motion sick when I drive.
There's just that lovely chance I may faint behind the wheel.
6. I have battled opiate addiction.
It's definitely not my proudest moment in the world, but I've battled addiction and beat it on my own with the help of my family, mainly my sister.
Back in 2013, when I broke my ankle, I discovered the beauty of opiates. I'd already had them in small doses, like in codeine from the dentist after my dental work, but I've never had it injected.
Lucky for me, when I broke my ankle I also screwed up my nerves in my ankle, so while I was in the ER I didn't need anything other than Zofran for my nausea, a side effect of being a Nervous Nancy. They were entertaining the idea of shipping me over an hour to a hospital with a better trauma ward and a surgeon on call at all times, therefore no pain meds. I was cool with that. I couldn't feel anything anyway. If you want to read about it, here's my broken ankle post.
Anyway, after being in the ER for like seven hours, and some begging to keep me at the hospital here, I was transferred to a room and given a codeine for the pain that I was starting to feel after they reduced (set) my ankle.
A few hours later after I woke up from a lovely nap, they took out the IV from the ambulance (which was in the crook of my arm, my favorite IV place) and put a new one into my hand (ouch!).
By then, the codeine had worn off so I was in pain, hungry, and moderately pissed off. Then I was introduced to Dilaudid.
Oh. My. Fucking. GOD.
If you've never had Dilaudid or morphine before, let me show you what it feels like.
I think that about covers it.
They always warn you that it may burn a little going into the IV, but for me it didn't. It spread this fantastic warmth all through my body, and it was fucking amazing. You feel it snaking through your veins, from the arm that your IV is in down to your leg on that side, then back up and down the other side. Think of that feeling when you're right about to fall asleep, where you feel like you're almost sinking into your bed. It was the shit of the shit and I wanted more.
During my stay, they were supposed to alternate between giving me my few milligrams of Dilaudid and then I want to say a 700mg hydrocodone pill (codeine/tylenol), but I was in pain more as the time went on and my body came out of shock so I managed to talk my nurses into giving me the good stuff.
I was in the hospital for three days, and after surgery on Monday I was released on a Tuesday morning with a hydrocodone to go home on, and a scrip of something similar to hydrocodone waiting for me in the pharmacy.
Unfortunately, at that point, the hydrocodone wasn't doing diddly and I was taking them two and three at a time just to get some sleep.
For weeks I was in a fantastic haze of drugs and happiness.
Then I ran out of pain killers and my doctor wouldn't give me any more (smart man).
I can remember the lowest point very vividly. I swore up and down I had a bottle of hydrocodone left over from the dentist when I had my wisdom teeth removed. I was crawling all over the place, cast dragging behind me, looking for it.
That's how my sister found me when she came to visit.
After that she helped me detox. I was a major bitch. I went through something we call drug sick. I've seen it a million times in my friends who are addicted to things like methamphetamine, but I didn't want to admit it was happening to me. Vomiting, cold sweats, diarrhea, the muscle aches.
It was terrible. I even contemplated ways that I could injure myself so I could go back to the hospital.
Now I am very cautious about what goes into my body. I try to stay away from addictive substances as much as possible. I don't want to be like that again. Looking back, I was a hot mess.
I never want to be there again.
7. I'm also against drugs because I've lost too many friends.
There are certain things I don't mind, like marijuana. That has properties that can heal.
But there are a lot of other things I'm completely against, like meth and heroin. Those are only two of the things that piss me off.
I've lost way too many friends in the last ten years to drug abuse, the most recent being a few months ago. He was sold some bad meth and he was an intravenous user. Not very long after shooting up the bad junk his organs started to fail one by one.
The friend before that? Died in a gas station bathroom after shooting bad heroin, while his mother waited in the car outside. The guy that sold it to him is now serving prison time for murder (he's actually in the same facility as my father), but the guy that sold the bad junk to the guy in prison is still running free. He gets that he's about to get busted and high tails it to Miami.
The time before that? Friend found dead in a ditch with a handful of pills in his hand.
I'm tired of going to funerals because of something that could have been prevented had they gotten the help that they needed.
8. I fucking love math.
I absolutely love math and numbers.
While I wasn't the best student to begin with, after my algebra teacher coached me through and I came out of her class with the highest grade, it was on like Donkey Kong.
I even took calculus in college because I wanted to, because it was fun.
When I get back into school I'm thinking about taking more advanced maths, like trig.
Numbers make me happy.
Well, now you know a little more about me if you were able to read the novel I just wrote.
If you made it all the way through, kudos!
I hope you have a fantastic weekend!