If I ever hear the word "skinny" again, it will be too soon.

I have to say this somewhere.  So I'm choosing the family blog I rarely post on, figuring the only people who follow it are people who have known me a long time and are willing to hear my side of things and not get offended.

Apparently being thin gives others the right to comment on your body.
People think they are being complimentary.  It doesn't feel like that.  It feels more like an invasion of privacy, of personal space.  Way to make me self-conscious.  Aside from that, it is never just a compliment.  It is inevitably accompanied by something (spoken or unspoken) along the lines of it's-not-fair-you're-so-lucky-I-kind-of-hate-you-you-take-it-for-granted.  Which leaves me feeling at best, awkward.  At worst, guilty.

And then there are the "you don't NEED to exercise" comments.  Right.  Because aiming to be thin is the only reason for exercise.  Not wanting to be fit, not trying to prevent the heart disease that runs my family, not wanting more energy, not wanting to take care of my body and keep my muscles from being weak and squishy, not wanting to prevent osteoporosis, diabetes, etc., not wanting to live a long HEALTHY active life.  Nope, wanting to be "skinny" is the only reason for exercise.  So since I'm already there, I don't "need" it.

My body is genetics accompanied by a moderate lifestyle.  We eat lots of fruits and veggies, not a lot of processed and/or red meat, mostly whole grains, etc.  We still like our treats, but we only drink soda on special occasions and we certainly don't have sweets every day.  I exercise here and there (more in the summer when we're outside as a family all the time...though I'm working on improving my cold weather exercise for all the above reasons).  And, as my doctor told me once, it's not so much my metabolism as a good grip on appropriate portion control.  My normal, no extra effort everyday lifestyle added to my genetic inheritance equals my body.  It is what it is.

Let me tell you a story.  Once upon a time, there was a 12 year old girl with a pixie cut.  She was used to being called things like Twig, Stick, Daddy Long Legs, etc. (kids are just so kind).  But then one day, she was on vacation with her family in Jackson Hole.  She was wearing denim shorts and a navy blue t-shirt.  While trying on wetsuits for their whitewater rafting trip, she went in search of the young man helping them.  In her absence, he returned and asked her mother, "Where did your son go?"

I was 12.  The age of ultimate egocentric self-consciousness.  It was one of the most humiliating moments of my young life.  And it took me 16 years to have the courage to get a pixie cut again.

My body has overall changed little since high school.  I blossomed into a C cup in college for some reason, which definitely helped me feel more like a woman (because, after all, "real" women have curves).  And now, after THREE babies, I'm STILL all straight lines and angles, and I'm back down to barely an A cup.  I still have the body of a prepubescent boy.

I have largely come to a point of acceptance of my body type.  I'm comfortable enough in my own skin to sport a pixie....though I still try extra hard to accessorize when I have one...  But it what it is.  I am who I am.  This is my body.  Please leave it alone.

I guess my culminating point, my take home message here, is that it's not okay to comment on others' bodies, regardless of shape, size, whatever.

March 2013

February 2013

January 2013

A little bird told me (some months ago) that I needed to update my blog.

So here goes!

On Ava

Ava Anne Ipson

Born December 28th at 1:43 PM

6 lbs 11.9 oz, 18 inches

Ava's "story":

Ava was due Christmas Day.  By now, I am unhappily resigned to the fact that my babies do not come early, so I knew it was unlikely we'd see her before Christmas.  But I prayed and prayed she would come BEFORE Christmas, and then I prayed and prayed she would wait until AFTER Christmas!

A few months ago, my doctor asked me if I wanted to be induced this time.  I said "If she doesn't come by the end of the year on her own, then YES!"  So we scheduled an induction date for December 28th.  Christmas came and went.  I was utterly wretchedly uncomfortable, but grateful she didn't come.  We pawned the kids off on my parents the night of the 27th, and then headed to the hospital the next morning, bright and early.  I made SURE we were on time (we were supposed to be there by 6:30 AM) because I didn't want any chance of being turned away!  Thankfully, we weren't!

I got all hooked up to the monitors, and they got the Pitocin started around 7:30 or 8.  A colleague of my doctor came in to break my water.  THAT was highly unpleasant, I felt like I was peeing my pants, and every contraction would bring a fresh gush of fluid.  Yuck.  After awhile, the flow seemed to ease up, so my nurse cleaned me up and I begged for my epidural.  The anesthesiologist got it in no problem, but only my left side got numb. I got really nauseous and puked my guts out at one point during the morning.  The contractions started getting really intense, and since I was only numb on one side, I felt them.  I was trying to take slow, deep breaths through them, but mostly I was clinging to the bed rail and sobbing in pain.  I was in no way prepared for that kind of pain.  The tweaking the anesthesologist gave the epidural didn't fix the problem, so he had take it out and then put it in again.  Then as the epidural was setting in again, I was heading into a panic attack. That was a new experience for me. But the doctor and nurse told me to take deep breaths, so I closed my eyes and did that and was able to calm myself down reasonably well. But they still stuck an oxygen mask on me. I didn't feel a thing waist down after that, until I hit transition and then was fighting the nausea again. But I was ready to go, so we just waited for my doctor to get there, and then I pushed three times each through three contractions. The top of her head was out, and my doctor was going to have me wait until the next contraction to push again, but little Miss wiggled her head out on her own...eager to get out, I guess! So she just grabbed her and pulled her out the rest of the way. She jokingly said that Ava delivered herself. And I felt so much better instantly. No more constant nausea. Not to mention, no one kicking my ribs or squishing my organs! In fact, the first night I couldn't fully fall alseep, I just dozed until it was time to nurse Ava again, because all I could think about was how GREAT I felt! Anyway, they laid her on my chest, all ooey gooey, and it was wonderful.  I cried, in part because I had a beautiful baby girl, and in part because this pregnancy was finally over!!!

 My parents brought the kids down, and Landon brought just them in so we could have a few minutes of just our family. They were both really excited. And then Susie was over it! Dallin held her first, and then we gave Susie a turn. Put Ava down on her lap, Susie said something along the lines of "So tute" and then announced "I done!" Dallin held her again though. He was much more excited about it!

 Landon got me my requisite post-delivery meal of sushi and vanilla Coke.  Tuna nigiri is always at its best after a long pregnancy without it!

 Everything looked good for both me and Ava, so we went home early on Saturday.  So wonderful to be in our own home.  Ava is a pretty chill little baby, thankfully.  Also a good little eater.  She's been a joy to have in our home, and boy is she adored by her siblings!

The Great Susie Hair Disaster of '12

I wish the photos did it justice, but they don't.

Here's my precious princess just a couple weeks before the latest chop job.

 The crooked bangs Dallin gave her the first time he cut her hair had started growing out pretty well, they fit into elastics.

And then this last Thursday, the butcher job......he took most of her bangs off, a chunk on either side of her head, and a chunk right at her cowlick.

 

Susie at the kids' salon...she was a peach.

This is right after I took her to get it fixed.  In some ways, I think it almost looks worse!  You can see the damage to her bangs really well!

And here is what it looks like when I do it.  Better.  And hair grows.  Hair grows.