Operation Michelle Gets Probed In All Her Private Bits Is A Go!

Soon I will be on very intimate terms with a few doctors and technicians as they take close examination of my breasts, vagina, and colon.

TMI-R-US right?  But I say, get over it. One of the reasons I'm blabbing about my volunteered probing is that it has come to my attention that many men and women speak not of these things and may even avoid important screenings because of a clear stigma and lets face it, not a fun time of it.

Personally, I care to know if my organs are acting up like bored children seeking attention. I demand to be on the need to know so that I may make  informative decisions whether to go the traditional route, or the alternative if something were to be found. We are active participants in our health, not passive passengers.

As a practice I choose to not take meds ALL the fucking time if I know I got this. I have healed me with the help of wonderful healers who taught me to take control of my wellness rather than continue viewing myself as sick and nothing more. I at one time refereed to myself as "a broken girl" or a "professional patient". Shit, talk about negative self talk and the in turn negative energy that was certainly called to me because of I clearly had a distorted self image.

The point of this blab fest is to suggest to men and women alike, that if you are due for screening tests, to partake so you have the knowledge needed to decide what, if anything must be done. Remember it's your body. Also, I think the telling of your experiences spreads a kind of comfort on such subject matter leaving the stigmas to die on the vine.

I have had two pre-cancerous polyps in my colon in the last ten plus years. This is why I go through the less than pleasant prep for the screening, but I do it because if I hadn't, who knows how sick I would be now or in my near future. I go through this discomfort feeling grateful for knowing I am saying Fuck You to colon cancer!

So yea, get all your bits probed, then have a drink to celebrate having a clean screen!

Eat My Way Back To Death...Yoga My Way To Knee Injury

 This eating disorder thing is prevalent so soon after having lost so much, that to have gained so much back again, is a pain I cannot bear any longer. I do not want to eat in quantity, and yet in a state repulsive awareness, I compulsively continue as though possessed. Food is a necessity; and so this is where drug and or alcohol addiction part ways.  But after recently speaking with a 20 year sober AA participant, came to realize that addiction is indeed fucking addiction. Only again, you do not require heroin to sustain life.

I recently start yoga after a long absence. Body and mind has loved me for it, my knee however is not pleased at all. But this was certainly not going to stop me so I got my flexible band/brace out to support the knee and was icing when necessary.

Then yesterday happened. We have very steep stairs to the finished basement and where my room dwells. Going down the steep and narrow stairs my large booted feet stepped down awkwardly but my nifty cat-like reflexes moved into action grapping the railing. I would have fallen a long and hard into the litter box, still I stumbled hard in the knees and now my right knee declares it officially injured. This makes me very fucking irked, reminding me of a pattern that plagues my attempts at psychical exercise beyond walking, which then leads to the rapid cycling of intense moods of all sorts.

Eating disorder 101: knee injury begets binge eating.  The cycle of stress inducing food frenzy is clear, what is not, is a way the fuck out of the pattern. I am not a 12 stepper, I fundamentally disagree with nearly all the steps as I do not believe in giving up power to any one thing. Yes yes yes…I let go and allowed my bipolar to be what it is rather than trying to make it be like everyone else thought it ought to be…something to be controlled. But this is not something I want a part of me, I do not wish it a home within and therefore must be expunged.  This is how my mind functions; get the fuck out since you serve NO purpose!

My eating disorder is learned behavior and therefore I know can be rewired. I have successfully managed this with many other nasty aspects/demons deeply settled in my subconscious; I can kill this off as well. Really this rearing of ugly heads is timely, the shit and muck we wish not to face bubbles up when we are ready, even if we feel otherwise.

This is where I’m at, the in your face ‘deal with it and stop being a pussy’ stage of transforming eating disorder into health consciousness. Take into myself eating mindfully of the global impact of food distribution, not just my impulses towards corn chips. I am what I eat, so I must stay aware of the cells taking up temporary residency in my liver and other organs. I must alter my relationship with food. Right now I am wounding myself to new self-destructive glorious heights because…fuck I don’t know, a plethora of reasons I’m sure.

What I can assert…Namaste Fucking Eating Disorder…you are SO fucking out of here!!