Friends, The last couple years have sucked. I have my health, my kids are good. Check! But, dang. The drama in my marriage- many sources– had worn me down and robbed me of gusto, self esteem, courage… in short, the Daph Master Flash.
But, with the help of dear friends, white wine and some alone time I woke up the other day with a “hell yeah, let’s do this”. I had don’t have a crew or pay, but gosh dang it I want to express myself!! I miss cooking with a camera on me. So, here is the product of my first attempt at my one woman food network. Enjoy
it ought to be easy ought to be simple enough
Man meets woman and they fall in love
But the house is haunted and the ride gets rough
And you’ve got to learn to live with what you can’t rise above if you want to ride on down in through this tunnel of love
Even before marriage I thought this was the most accurate song of a real relationship. I still think so. Today is the 15th anniversary of when I met my husband Mark Peel. My friend Heather was with me. I had just had a lousy stand up set. I was in an area of town I barely knew. Heather knew less having just moved to LA from San Francisco where we met each other working Metro Traffic in 1991. The Tobacco Road of broadcasting.
“We could go to Luna Park or go upscale and go to Campanile.”
“Let’s go upscale” she said.
That changed my life.
It was around 10. Dinner crowd had drained out. We perched ourselves on the dark orange leather square seats. Felix the bartender served us warmly. Great wines, yummy nibbles, we joked to those within earshot. All was good. I made fun of some guy from the kitchen with a funny hat. He looked confused.
Later the manager would introduce that man to me. Chef owner Mark Peel.
He was not my type. Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about what he looked like without those white clothes on.
Cut to now. 2 children, helped raise my stepson and two older stepchildren who have been very important to my life. A step grandson who I adore.
But, we are not good. Details are not for here, but I know I’m not the only one whose great love story does not have “a happily ever after.”
I’ve recently started doing some stand up again. One of my jokes “weddings are ruined for me. I’m sitting there with a slow clap, clap. Good luck. You two against the world. Wait till you have to share a sink everyday and watch your spouse floss, yeah, “at last”!!
There is love, some respect and the intense devotion to our children. I wouldn’t write this if they didn’t know something was rotten in the produce drawer. They do. I’m sorry they do. Most of the time we are “fine”. But, in my belly there is a daily churn. Occasionally, so bad I have to have a Brian Wilson day. ( aka not get out of bed)
I started wanting to do mom blog videos back in 2007 because I knew I wasn’t the only mom who felt isolated by new motherhood. Now, I extend the same message, but with a twist: who here is isolated because your marriage is not quite right and you cannot say it aloud? You don’t want to reveal too much, you don’t want to dog your man, you don’t want to embarass your kids. I have felt alone the last couple of years. But, a few weeks ago it shifted for me. Now, I’m practically stopping strangers on the street. “Did you find everything you needed?” asks the cashier.
“Not the key to conflict resolution, no I did not.”
The isolation and shame of not having my happily ever after has stifled me creatively as well. I’ve barely generated one funny, or sad word here in the last couple of years. I texted to a friend tonight “I’m a shadow of my former self.”
” How did this happen? I never thought this would be me. ” I muse.
You know how when you are young you are full of absolutes. “I would never____” . “If ___ happened, that’s it, I’m gone.” Then you grow up and all those things happen and you do not change course. “you learn to live with the things you cannot rise above.”
I’ve written before about my brother’s suicide. “Why?” People ask. I ask myself.
“Why do you two have problems?” People ask. I ask myself. In both cases, it’s multi layered. Never one clear, “well, he never folded the laundry!” “He hated how I chewed my food.” Now you have the same finances, friends and children. Unlike when you are dating you just can’t grab your toothbrush and favorit pillow and go. I have no answers and no pronouncements. I only know as a friend told me once, “we are lost in the storm.”
I know, without knowing, I’m not the only one in this blizzard.
It wasn’t someone I knew. But, while listening to her vulnerable, shaking voiced testimony this morning an incident came flooding back. One day where I was pinned by a man. I was 13.
I grew up in Los Angeles. It was the Fall of 1979. I went to a progressive public school located on Robertson Blvd next to Hamilton High School. We were a magnet. We had open campus privileges. Now, if I walked as far as Fred’s Bakery to get a cheese bagel for lunch, which we often did, things were fine. But, it was kind of known that if you went further North the street felt more dangerous. But, one day my friend and I wanted to eat something different so we walked to Taco Bell. It did feel less safe than Fred’s Bagels. An uneasy feeling. We looked at the menu and both decided we didn’t want to eat there.
I only half noticed these noisy guys who had come in. I cannot tell you anything about one of the guys. But, the one that is in my head was white, had longish sandy blonde hair, not the clearest skin, but not ugly. Light colored shirt. They were talking loudly. Maybe they were already singing. Like they were high or drunk. My friend and I walked towards the exit. We were passing them. The blonde guy pinned us against the wall. He was singing, then he ambushed us. It happened very fast. His arms were over us, but not touching. his hands on either side of us. He leaned in so close to me I could smell his warm breath. He was singing “Good girls don’t, good girls don’t, but I do.” The Knack song. I had never heard it before then. Now, here is the funny thing about human responses in a crisis. I was a mouthy, wise cracker then ( as now). My friend was quiet, soft. But, in that moment I was frozen. I was terrified and I didn’t know what to do. My gentle friend on the other hand, did. She grabbed my hand and broke hard against his arm and ran dragging me behind her. Once she bolted, I thought, oh, yeah, run. But, had I been alone, I don’t know if and when that would have ever kicked in. That’s why when people say, well, why didn’t so and so do this or that I think STFU, you have no idea how you will react. I want to think I’ll be like the Rock in a movie, but I doubt it.
We ran all the back down Robertson to our campus. When we got there students were hanging out on our tiny patch of asphalt. I remember us telling a few of them, “oh, this creepy guy grabbed us…” But, I don’t recall having “Let’s go tell the teachers. Let’s call the police” thoughts. No one suggested it either. I was shaken and grossed out. I was embarrassed we had gone all the way to Taco Bell. It was our fault we went down there. Which some people did comment on.. “Oh, you can’t go that far down the street”
Life went on. I had been out of touch with that friend, but a few years ago we reconnected. We enjoy going to drink wine or have dinner. I said something about that icky neighborhood we went to school in. “Oh, we bought our house near there.” She said, not thinking it icky at all.
“Oh, I’m sure it has changed” I said, not wanting to insult her neighborhood
One night I said to her, “I really want to thank you for being so brave and grabbing my hand that day in the Taco Bell when they gross guy cornered us. I was frozen with fear.”
She had NO IDEA what I was talking about. She didn’t remember it at all.
Does that mean it didn’t happen? No. But, if that guy who sang the Knack song was up for a Supreme Court Seat and I told my story would I be believed? I know it happened. I also know that when I hear that song ..almost 30 years later, I feel like I’m going to throw up.
While trying to finally clean up my computer I stumbled upon photos from a mom blogger event from 7 years ago. I use to go things like this a lot. People with baby products would demonstrate or give stuff away and bloggers mention it on their site if they like it.
At this juncture I was not working outside the home that much, so I strapped on Rex and went to EVERYTHING. Here I was being taught how to massage my little guy.
Long strokes away from the heart I think?
Here I’m going for the little toes, which 7 years later I still adore. Even at the time I wasn’t sure if a baby massage technique was so important, but rather that a parent or caregiver strokes, hugs, caresses them. Studies show an untouched baby is wire monkey.. I know I am.
I look back on this period 1) thinking how cute Rex was and how nice it was to easily take him anywhere. But, 2) remember who tired I always was. Well, gee I’m not sure. Am I tired here or really trying to learn this thing? Oh, maybe I’m doing a “happy and you know it clap your hands?” Oh, warming up the oil? I’m so geared towards food I think those little plates with oil are in need of some fresh bread to dip into.
The other important part of a ritual like this is that it made ME feel better.. not nessarily doing the perfect massage for Rex ( by the way, never got a tip) but slowing down and spending a few minutes touching your kid feels so good. Now, it’s rubbing their back at bed time, or when they let me hold their hands walking.
Oh, my look at my pink blackberry! Gosh, I miss those… I made less typos. So, I’m out of the mommy blogging, swag party business… I don’t have time and I don’t have a cute little co star to take around with me. More and more when people would pitch me products I’d say, “you know there are SO many sites that are a better fit.” I did like experiences, like this, though. I was a little perplexed by why I’m wearing those white sunglasses.. but I think they were given to me.
Being a Pro Hillary, Non Trump person I have felt kind of like the Grinch. We take the trappings of Christmas away and Christmas comes anyway.
It comes without mandate!
It comes without civility
It comes without logic, equality and voting rights!
It comes with Putin, voter suppression, the FBI meddling and Newt!
But, it comes nonethless.
My kids were making fun of Donald Trump before I barely noticed him as a viable candidate. The kids got it first. He was a big presence. They don’t like him and I say, you guys I’ve lived a lot longer than you all and I’m telling you, this is NOT the kind of person we have as a president. People usually at least try to be gentleman and mend fences. Not here.
So, as I prepare to March Saturday ( I hope to get some protesting in Friday too, but I have to work, so you know work/life/protest balance) I keep thinking, what is on my sign?
There is the I can’t accept you dude genre: “Repeal and Replace Donald Trump” Which is kind a cool because it sticks up for ACA too. Or “I’m not with him”. But, since he is in, I’m not sure that strikes the right tone.
There are the single issue signs. Several protest Friday in LA focus on Immigration rights and protecting the Dreamers. So many good causes to champion in the age of Trump. Protecting the climate ( 2016 was THE hottest year on record Don), Health care, funding for education, housing, safeguarding financial system, etc, etc. As long as no on is threatening harm to a human I’m down with whatever sign.
As a woman I certainly do NOT feel represented and was looking forward to seeing someone who looked like me as POTUS. Who had to get her clothes ready for work and give her child attention while she had cramps and nag her husband to help her unload the dishwasher. Who had been a solid professional, but had men look at each other in a meeting while was ignored. Who was shushed so a man could be heard. I’m very sad at the large amount of white woman who did not vote for Hillary. “Something about her I don’t like”. Was John Kerry or Al Gore the kings of personality? Did they always ring authentic? No, but I supported them because their policies more closely aligned with me. Sadly a confluence of internalized misogyny and lure of celebratory and lack of critical thinking won the day. So, that woman will not take the oath.
So, I keep thinking.. when the whoos down in whoo ville circle up, what do I want them to see on my sign? ( not that many will see it, but go with me)
Some say, don’t go too negative. Trump will just dismiss critics. Maybe true, but I also need to do this for my own self expression. So, I’m going to have a two sided signs. One is a suggestion for how I think our future POTUS should act and one is a cause that I would like us to unify around.
One side was a friend of friends idea: “We need a leader, not a tweeter”. His assault on our psyche with that nonsense needs to stop. Most of us plebs tweet and blog because we have no platform otherwise. This guy is the most famous dude in the world. Why is acting like a teenager? What no snap chat?
The other is to support the first thing I ever marched for as a kid: ERA. The Equal Rights Amendment. It never passed. That’s right. It is NOT in our constitution that women are equal. So, I think I’ll throw on my “Don’t blame me, I voted for her” T-shirt and hold up my sign. There is a great article HERE that holds out hope that sometimes the leader you think is your worst enemy can surprise you.
The best thing I can say about him now is I hope he surprises me. I hope you acts more inclusive, rational. But, I doubt it.
I’m still with her.
But, I’m at a loss of what to say to my kids. There is all the stuff any good parent says to their kids: “Be kind, be smart, do your homework, treat people with respect, do onto others, be humble, don’t grab women’s pussy’s.” But, it rings hollow now because the guy who just got elected broke all those rules and is being richly rewarded.
Why did women vote for him? You really think he will create jobs Michigan? Why is he building a wall against Canada?
I am proud of Hillary Clinton. She worked so hard. She put up with abuse and ridicule that 99.9% would have crumbled under. She came so very close. She won the popular vote. Last night I had hoped to sit between my mother and daughter and cheer the first ever female president of the US. Instead I held my daughter and niece as they sobbed and my mom had already left saying “I can’t take it.”
By saying I’m with her I also mean I’m with people of color and immigrants, gays, handicapped, POW’s, my gosh, our Generals! All the people President Elect Game Show host has insulted in his 18 month campaign.
This morning as Vivien cried, “Mommy, what do we do?” I said, “I don’t know.” So, it was all the more helpful when Hillary talked right to her.
“To all the little girls watching…never doubt that you are valuable and powerful & deserving of every chance & opportunity in the world.”
We must keep reminding them this in the face of living in a country which elected a man who boasted about grabbing women’s privates, who condescended to Hillary all the time. In the face of having watched the debates where she was vastly more articulate and informed than him and yet, she will not be the president.
I‘m with her means I salute my mom, a life long feminist. I was a little girl when the ERA wasn’t ratified and now, years later… sigh.. same old story. The old white boys club. The FBI, Trump, GOP and some misguided working class people who think he is their champion.
I resent that he is a guy who never did a day of community work in his life. There is commitment to public service. I’m wondering the point of all of mine. I’m discouraged.
I’m with her because I’m not going to be a nice little girl and go away. I’m a proud Nasty Woman and I’m staying that way. History does not run on a smooth trajectory. I know this election is on the wrong side of history, but we are on this zig zag nonetheless.
I’m with her because I’m going to support my daughter and son to be feminists. Who judge a person by the content of their character. Brother, this President Elect is wanting in that department.
Would have been nice instead of talking about polls… that were wrong.. if the media had EVER done a compare and contrast with the candidates policies. But, who am I kidding? It wouldn’t have changed the outcome in a society riddled with sexism and adoring of reality TV.
I was overjoyed that my country elected a man of color in ’08. Yay! My country isn’t as racist as I thought it was. But, it is as sexist as I thought it was. SEXISM RUNS THROUGH ALL COLORS AND CULTURES.
I’m still in shock. A cross between being jilted, a death, a bit of 9/11, of “what world is this?” feeling. But, when I manage to wash my hair again I hope to have a plan. Because a big part of me wants to become a hermit and live deep in Michigan.. if only to vote in the next election.
I’ve always been political. News junkie. First professional job in broadcasting was as a news anchor for a local NPR station. So, I can get heated. But, never before have I felt so personally traumatized. Sure, Bush v. Gore was VERY upsetting,
But, Trumps behavior and millions condoning it has me questioning every relationship with men I have ever had.
You see, like many women I’ve spent my life accommodating the male persona. I’m a feminist, but I’ve still done it. Maybe less than others, but in a world where they are often your boss, or the majority of your co workers, it’s hard not too. From making sure my dad had the seat at the head of the table and a plate of hot food, to nodding politely when some male stranger said something condescending. Well, he is an old guy, he doesn’t mean to demean. From “Smile honey” to bosses who made lewd comments about me or other women I worked with.
The worst were several males and bosses I worked with in radio in the 90’s. Pigs. I worked with some great, respectful men of all ages. But, hands down the worst were at KGO radio San Francisco. Constant sexual comments. I would smile, and then every few weeks go into an empty studio and cry. I wanted to work in radio. What was I going to do? It was top down at that place. I eventually learned to become like my torturer. When they would say something gross, I’d shoot back , “Yeah, but you have a small dick. So, can I have the AP report now?” It hardened me. I spoke of one incident to a woman superior. She made excuses for the guy, “But, he never touched you, right?” No, he never did. But, I was stuck with him and a guy engineer on a remote broadcast who made everything we spoke of into a way to bring in my body parts. Once I wasn’t working for the station directly, but for a show taped there, it sheltered me a bit. Like an abuse victim I didn’t stand up to any of these men till I saw it being done to a younger woman who had started working there. Unable to defend myself I did tell one guy to not talk to her like that anymore. “I thought it was a compliment?” He said. “No, no woman wants two senior men to her at work to hold up a Victoria’s Secret catalogue and say, ‘Yes, it does look like her.” I couldn’t reprimand the other guy, he was even higher up.
NOT JUST SEXUAL
As I moved onto TV I had all different type of co workers and bosses. MANY who knew were the line was. (Consensual sexual relationships between co workers is fine..albeit later Awkward. ) However, this taking care of the man isn’t just about letting some fat, fart think he has a chance with you. It doesn’t have to take a sexual form to be menacing and manipulative and to keep women from freely expressing themselves and their ideas. How many times have you been in a meeting with a male boss who mansplains you to boredom? Who is detailing something middle management figured out months ago? Who shows you how to do something you already know? Who assumes you do not have what a certain task will take? Who silences you so a man can speak? Who wants endless praise for one idea he has come with? But, most of the time I humor them. Laugh, smile, rag on them later when I’m at happy hour with a co worker. The few times I have protested, I’m alone. So, I back down and I needed the paycheck.
Sorry, guys I probably would have kept doing it, but now that I see this heavy, lurching manness writ large with Donald Trump I’m done. I’m calling it and I’m not going along with it. Trumps intense meanness to Hillary Clinton in the second debate made my stomach hurt. I watched it with others and the men in the room were also upset. “I have to have a drink” one said. It was so tense. In order to get along, Hillary rarely fired back. I get why. It’s NOT a level playing field and she is carrying Bill’s sins on her coat tails. Though I don’t know why when a woman is cheated on and gets angry at the other woman she is an abuser? Couldn’t a woman calling a woman she is angry with be called “locker room talk?” No, because entitled men reserve excuses for themselves and the brotherhood. Pat Robertson and his ilk think it’s fine.
I know there are good guys who don’t even realize their impact on woman sometimes.I t could be from someone who otherwise I think is a lovely person. Maybe a super liberal,don’t matter. They stand too close. their voices are naturally deeper, louder. They think everyone wants to hear what that have to say. I had a boyfriend years ago who was large. 6’7”, 240lbs. He acted very contrite and respectful around women. I was surprised at how gentle this giant was. I asked him about it and he said, “I know my physical size is very intimidating to women and I don’t want them to be scared of me.” He did not abuse his power. Sometimes Mark says something that startles me or Vivien. When we say, “why are you yelling?” He says, “I wasn’t. I’m not even mad.” It’s the timber. The other day at Bombo he came in during my shift and started telling me IN FRONT OF OTHERS about the correct ice to lemonade ratio. I just nodded as I thought screaming “Don’t Mansplain to me” might be bad for business. In a private moment I said, I know this is not what you intended, but here is how that felt to me. He understood.
OUTSIDE OF WORK
The belittling of woman is not confined to the work place. Oh no. It can be from dear people who don’t even know they are doing it. Being who I am I freely express my opinions on all types of topics. One thing both men, and some woman have said when I do this MAKES ME GO NUTS. It’s a line that has a few variations… but it undercuts whatever the speaker has just said. Here it is:
“Daphne, tell us what you really think?” Followed by chuckles. It could also be, “Daphne, go on, tell us what you really think?” Chuckles. Or “You never have to guess what Daphne thinks about something.” Continued chuckles. I have had women do this to me too, usually when we are in the company of men.
Frankly, I don’t know how it’s taken me so long to say, as I recently said to my husband when he did it too!,
When I said “That is so sexist and belittling.” (he got it)
However, I have NEVER heard any gender say that to a man expressing a definite opinion. EVER. If you have ever said this ask yourself, why? Were you uncomfortable with the statement? Was it controversial? Because if it was a hot button issue one could say instead, “I appreciate you feel really strongly about this, I just don’t want to create any friction on a night I thought we were going to do Jager shots out of hose.” But, if it’s not something like, oh, where does life began, but perhaps a well articulated critique of a popular author, why say it?
The saying is the personal is the political. It certainly is here. I remember in ’08 thinking, yeah I guess I’ll vote for Hillary, but I’m not getting in a later about it. Then in a primary debate Obama dismissed her with “You are likable enough, Hillary.” She smiled and took it. I was a plane for Texas helping her campaign win the caucus.
Yes, I usually vote Democratic. But, I’m pining for the days of Romney, McCain, even W. They would have competed against Hillary Clinton strongly. They would have made powerful arguments for their conservative vision. They would have pointed out were they think her policies were flawed or not executed. Good for them. They would not have stalked her in a debate using their physique to intimidate her. They would not have commented on faces and body parts of a female competitor. I already abhorred Trump for his lack of intellect, his reality show pedigree, his race baiting, his hostility to anyone who doesn’t look like him, his insults to Gold Star families and POW’s. I also do not like how he has advanced the coarsening of our societies dialogue.
I have sometimes placated and tolerated men with a sense of entitlement, humored them. But, I’m not doing it anymore. Thank Donald Trump.
We aren’t big camp people. I never went to overnight camp because my parents were afraid of child molesters and mosquito bites. Vivien has given me the evil eye, “I’m so not happy with you mommy” stare when I’ve pushed her to go to camp. The big assemblies and rah, rah, “We are the Mighty Turtles!” cheers shut her down. While I see a fun day of crafts, and waterplay she sees an over earnest intrusion into her psyche. Both can be correct.
But, last year a friend told us about the garden camp. It combined two of my favorite things: nature and old parts of LA that posers who live in Brentwood or dine on Sunset blvd wouldn’t be caught dead in. Correction, they don’t even know these areas exist. You see The Garden School Foundation started about 11 years ago to educate Title 1 kids (ie, low income) kids about nature, nutrition, and wearing floppy sunhats. In the West Adams district of LA, an area famous for beautiful Craftsman homes and the evisceration of LA’s upper class African Americans when the 10 freeway plowed through it’s neighborhood in the 1960’s, sits the 24th street school. A typical LA unified asphalt covered elementary school. But, there is a hidden part! A big one. A 2 acre garden in the back of the school that abuts the 10 freeway. It is an oasis in the urban jungle. A drink of water in a concrete desert. A snow ball in the desert.
There are sweet garden teachers who show the kids how to make humus with a blender powered by a bicycle, how to grow kale and make art with beans..and glue and stuff.
One of my favorite things to this burnt out mom is that you do NOT send them with snack or lunch. They eat from the garden. My kids ate salad every day and liked it. They came home excited to try recipes. Rex has tried to make a few things since he went. Do I have to spend 30 minutes cleaning after he does so? Yes, but at least he is trying!
Vivien even liked it because the groups were small, there was no assembly or cheering. Plus they are OUTSIDE all day. OUTSIDE around pretty green things, not the outside of their school in Hollywood with homeless, smells of pot and obnoxious billboards.
“I wish school was like this” said Rex. I wish life was like this. I could sit in that meandering, folk art strewn garden for hours, even if the hum of the 10 murmurs nearby.
City kids need any bit of nature they can get.
I had an eye job. Let’s get that straight right from the start. I wasn’t beaten by my husband or in a car accident. I get that you might wince or feel empathetic pain looking at these photos but when they were taken a few days after my surgery I felt fine. A little tired from the pain meds, but considering I had my face cut open, pretty good.
I had been thinking about doing this for a while. I can see dwindling collagen and gravity were altering a few things on my face… and other places. Finding out my show wasn’t renewed seemed like a good time. Don’t need to be in front of the camera’s any time soon. I’m not going to apologize or feel I have to justify it. In the grand scheme of things it’s not such a big deal. In an age of self transformation from multiple piercing to transgender, who really cares about a middle aged lady fixing a saggy eyelid?
Yet, when women do it ( and men too) they hide. Why? I’m greatly influenced by my brief time living in Miami. Miami is populated with lots of South Americans. Maybe because Brazil is in the top 10 of countries with plastic surgery ( South Korea is number one) Or maybe because Miami is a city you can reinvent yourself, but people walk around with some bruising. People say, “oh, did you get the fat pocket surgery? I’m thinking of doing that.” It’s no big deal.
Why not be open? People will judge me for it, but I judge the sloppy dressed lady behind me at the supermarket. I cringe at pierced septums, I fixate on mucus hanging from their hoop when they have a cold. I’m startled when I see a neck tattoo. So judge away.
While these pictures are a bit alarming I’m glad we took them because by the next day a lot of the bruising had receded. Moms at school would remark, “It’s really gone down.” and “I’ve never seen anyone out after surgery, everybody hides.” I’m outspoken and honest to a fault. It’s gotten me in trouble. A lot. But, the flip side is this is my authentic self. When my friend Cheryl sent me the photos she took she said, “they are vulnerable and funny, like you.” I think it’s why comedy resonates with me. I’ll make fun of myself before you can. Funny people are famously a bit dark. Yep. Think that’s true. See my mangled face! Bwahhh.
The question I get asked the most is ,”Did it hurt?” A bit, but not much. I did it without general anesthesia. Partly because I find recovering from that difficult, and partly because not doing it saved me $2,500. I took two xanaxs, a vicodin, an antibiotic and a few minutes later as I was getting woozy my doctor started shooting me up with lidocaine around my eyes. That kinda hurt, about like a botox shot feels on your forehead. That was maybe 30 seconds, then I fell asleep. When I woke up my husband was there ( I took a cab solo to the procedure, no use someone waiting around). That was when I had the most pain. I felt throbbing soreness around my eyes. They gave me a pain pill and by the time I was in our car I felt nothing. I slept propped up and my husband dutifully woke me up every 4 hours to give me the meds so I could stay ahead of the pain. He also woke me up at dinner time to give me a bowl of homemade Carbonara pasta. My favorite! “Hmm, this is good.” I ate a small bowl and passed out again. By the next day I was feeling better.
Now, it’s not without problems. Mostly because I’m taking an opiate for pain and I went cold turkey one day. At that point the pain could be controlled with a little Advil, but I started to slip into Kurt Cobain like depression. I called my husband who said, “Go take a half pill, you have to wean yourself.” Which I did over the next few days. Between the surgery and pills I was a bit more emotional than normal.
I had prepped my kids that I was going to look like Frankenstein when I got home. They were fascinated to see the stitches on my eyelids. They are pretty grizzly looking at first. The lower lids were artfully stitched up on my lash line so they were unrecognizable. The uppers, yikes! My kids liked helping with my cold compresses the first few days, and later the warm ones. They let me sleep the first two days. Then they wanted mom on the go again bruised or not. Kids roll with it.
I hear, “ I didn’t think you needed this.” Well, thanks friend/family/dude at gas station. That’s kinder than saying “I wondered when you were going to tighten that up!” But, I didn’t do it for anyone else. I did it for me. My own selfish, self centered, vain self. It got to the point that when I put on liquid eye liner on my top lid it would end up near my eyebrows as my drooping lid would fall and catch it. When I smiled a ridge of flesh like a caterpillar was forming under my eyes, especially my right one. It bugged me. So, the doctor removed some skin at the bottom and artfully stitched me up on my lower lash line. Very well done. Harder and longer to heal is the upper lids. A month later all bruising is gone, but I still have flesh bumps on my lid where the stitches were. They say it can take 6 months for the swelling to completely go away and for it to settle. I hope so, because of after the hassle and expense of this I do want to look refreshed. That’s why I thought I needed this.
I get the resistance, but I didn’t think that pretty girl at the sandwich shop should have put that large tattoo on her shoulder and gauges in her ears, but she didn’t ask me.
Don’t worry I tell friends, I’m not going to become the cat lady and change the plane of my face and have puffy lips. At some point, I will go gently into the aging process, a lineless 80 year old might be unnerving. But for right now I just want to look a smidge more like the lady I’ve been staring at for years. I’m not justifying, I’m explaining and I want to support anyone who has done this or wants to. If you saved your acorns to do it, good for you. We all have our reasons, and they are our own.