The most frustrating part about the holidays, for me, is allowing myself to let go a little, but not too much. I have never been good at moderation, especially when it comes to my two nemeses: Work and Food.

Work seems as though it would be easier, as one can leave it behind at the office and go home. There's a slight problem with that, though, as I do half of my work from home, and my home is also part of what I work on. I can't go to bed if there's too much junk lying around, waiting to be picked up, and I have a hard time leaving dishes in the sink (although I have relaxed quite a bit on that one…I have a deep sink and I can pretend they're not there). I also have had trouble sleeping for the last week just because I'm going to be taking over some other people's duties while they're away and I worry that I'm going to forget to do all of that and screw everything up. Aaaand the Christmas singing stuff is about to go down and I'm still struggling with the new jaw tightness that makes everything a hundred times harder. Sigh.

Did I mention that I hate change? because, yeah, I do. I really, really do.

Anyway, when I get stressed out, I tend to relax with my diet a little bit, but that usually means I allow myself to eat candy as a meal replacement. It's got milk in it, right? That means it falls under the "dairy" category and is therefore healthy. Raisins? Got some fruit in there, too. I'm all set. If it has peanut butter, it's so freaking healthy I almost don't want to have it, but I guess I can suck it up and get my protein on.

Yeah, Reese's Pieces and Raisinets encompass three of the four food groups. What of it?

So, how to work a little harder to get stuff done, and how to relax my eating a little so I can have some treats but not gain weight? I just don't know. I always overdo. Here is a great example: Once, a long, long time ago, I had a cold. My voice teacher told me I should try to cough as little as possible, because I was getting ready for a performance and I wanted to be as kind to my cords as possible. So I didn't cough, even though I needed to. I ended up with pneumonia, because the fluid collected in there because I was bound and determined not to cough, so I didn't. At all.

Good job, me.

So I guess maybe if I focus on just being balanced and letting some things go a little, I will feel better about the whole thing. Maybe. Although, technically, that would be change and I am still pretty uncomfortable with anything that involves not being in my little happy place.

So, maybe a little more Reese's action and a little less work. A little. Like, maybe I won't go in on Christmas Day or New Year's Day this year. Maybe.

I'll do my best. To not do my best. Wait a minute…what? Because, really, the lesson I learned today is that I should cough and eat Reese's Pieces.

Mmmmm. Reese's Pieces. Okay, I'm happy now.

Why do people get so snippy about filling out a health form when they come into my office? Sometimes I feel like I'm telling them that, in addition to getting their teeth cleaned, we are also forcing them to have a colonoscopy and it will be done in full view of the parking lot so everyone who would like to can watch and see their guts.

For reals.

For instance, let's say there's a guy. Let's say he hasn't filled out a new form in, oh, five years. So I'll hand him the form, which will take up approximately two minutes of his time (if he's a slow writer). He will then look at me as though I have just murdered several kittens, sigh heavily, and ask if he has to fill it out. I will then say that we just need to know if he has any allergies or is on any medications, just in case the doctor needs to prescribe something. He will then make a comment along the lines of, "Is this something I'll have to fill out every time?"

Seriously. Your questions just took more time than just filling out the stupid form.

Oh, and you really do want your doctor to know if you're allergic to something. You think you know what they're putting in your mouth, but sometimes things have funny ingredients of which you may not be aware. Of course, you can omit stuff, but when you get a big old rash on your face, don't come crying to me. I will not have any sympathy for you.

Also, come on. I get enough crap in the course of a day. Knock it off, sit down, and fill out your form. Geeeeeeeez.

Alrighty, I'm calling it: It's Christmastime!

Don't like it? Tough caca…I've had a rough year, so I'm going for it. I've decided that this year, I have to teach my cockatiel how to whistle Jingle Bells and I want to learn how to play Eye of the Tiger on my accordion. I realize that may not be a Christmas song in some houses, but I feel like it kind of relates to the way my family looks at Christmas.

When I was younger, I heard about holiday depression and I was like, "What? Family gatherings are stressful? What?" and then I saw how other families looked at Christmas, and I realized that my family doesn't do things normally.

Big shocker, there.

Here's the secret to our enjoyment of the season: We look at Christmas as a month-long celebration of our ability to act like idiots.

Yes, I know, it's a religious holiday, and I'm totally down with that. I loves me some Christmas Eve candlelight service, with all the quiet and solemnity and what-not. It's beautiful. Seriously.

Christmas, though (in my mind, at least), is two distinct holidays, and I don't think the non-religious aspect impedes my enjoyment of the religious aspect at all. In my opinion, the super fun idiocy of the non-religious part is what makes the religious part so meaningful.

We got the gift of being able to act like complete and total morons with our family, and that may just be the best gift of all. I love that.

Plus, not everybody enjoys going home at Christmastime, and that makes me even more aware of the awesomeness that goes on in our neck of the woods. For reals.

Gingerbread everything for the next six weeks. Bring it. That and this…fierce.

I think my favorite thing in the whole wide world is when a person tries to make another person look bad, so that the first person will look better in comparison. That is awesome, and I'll tell you why: Because, sometimes, it actually works.

So, a person will do her best to make it look like another person, perhaps even that person's friend, is craptastic, and the first person can then step up and look fabulous.

The only problem with this strategy is that every once in a while, the person to whom one does this will notice. That can be bad. Really, really bad.

Especially if the person to whom one does this is me, and I'm smarter than you.

Watch your back, lady. I sure as heck will be, from now on, and we will do this.

Yes, we will.

(As you may have guessed, I am being sarcastic. I do not enjoy, nor do I endorse, this kind of behavior. In actuality, I think it's poopy, and anyone who would do this to another person, let alone a friend, is a wiener.)

Sad clown.

Perhaps I'm a Facebook snob. I keep un-friending people who offend me. Today, I am un-friending another person, and I feel bad to do it, because she's always seemed like such a nice lady.

In person.

However, once she gets on the Facebook, she is a fountain of mis-information and bigotry. Now, I have a lot of friends from a lot of different walks of life, and I can totally respect other people's points of view, but when she is constantly pushing a certain agenda, and I know that she is home-schooling her kids so she can push that agenda on them, it bothers me.

When she constantly posts "articles" that are full of lies and mis-information (some of them are just urban legends, and with some of them you can tell she only read the blurb, because the information contained within the link doesn't say at all what she assumed it did and contradicts what she said about it on her page), it gets to be a little bit much.

It also bugs me a ton that she talks all the time about how intelligent she is, and how she wants her kids to be intelligent, too, and then she proves her lack of understanding of the English language on a daily basis. Massively. Ugh. Their, they're, there. Learn the difference. Also apostrophes. Jeepers.

So I will be un-friending her. I really hope that doesn't make me a snob. Actually, at this point, I don't care. She posted a link to an article yesterday that was about how dangerous vaccination is for children, and while I believe people have the right to choose (I'm all about personal freedom), I don't think one should use lies and political propaganda to discourage other people from making a different choice. The article she used to back up her statement was so full of crap, I couldn't believe a sane person would buy into any of it. As a matter of fact, a quick Google search pulled up a ton of articles stating that this particular article was a hoax. She then proceeds to say that people who give their daughters this particular vaccine are, in doing so, encouraging them to have pre-marital sex and get abortions.

Seriously.

It's a shot. Don't give it to your kids if you don't want to, but don't vilify others for having a different opinion. Geez. Grow some common sense in that vast, empty cranium of yours.

Well, maybe I am a snob. Oh, well. At least I'm a snob who knows how to use apostrophes good.

Hahahahahahahahahahaha! It's funny, but it feels so wrong.

Had to take a day to absorb the super fun times at the doctor's office. First of all, she didn't say anything about losing weight, so that totally screwed up my plans. I was all ready for it. Oh, well. Next year, lady. It's on. The bad news came in a sort of deceptive way, which didn't really sink in until I got all the way back home and thought about what it meant.

She looked at my blood tests and said everything was fine, except that my sluggish thyroid gland had become even more sluggish, so she wanted to up my dose. Which was not unexpected, and totally explains the lack of weight-loss, so that was cool. Then, I mentioned the comment my acupuncturist made about how the left side of my head, neck and throat (where I had the mastoiditis) felt different from the right side.

The doctor did her exam and then agreed with my acupuncturist. After looking in my ear, she dropped the bomb on me: All the pain and the swelling in my throat and jaw and the continued weird hearing in my left ear are from scar tissue from the infection. The swelling in my throat area is my lymph nodes, which were so affected by the infection that they are permanently enlarged and scarred.

Let's sum up, shall we? The pain will never go away, and the swelling (which is making singing a lot more difficult) is scar tissue, which is permanent.

Permanent.

Don't love that.

I'm glad it didn't hit in the office, because I'm pretty sure that would've led to more crying in public, and feelings are dumb so I try to keep mine to myself (except on here...love the anonymity of the inter-webs). Yesterday I allowed myself to take a day off from the dieting and exercise, and today I'll get back into it, but I really don't want to. Forever is a very long time to have to struggle to do things that were so automatic before.

The pain sucks, too, but to be honest, the singing is the thing that matters. I've been trying so hard to sing over the extreme jaw tightness and laryngeal issues, and to hear that it's never going away is quite disheartening.

I realize it could've been worse. I realize I should be thankful that I don't have any infection and I didn't get meningitis or have any brain damage, and I don't have cancer or any other life-threatening illnesses. I am thankful for that.

I really am.

But I'm still sad. 

And I know that will get better. But still...yuck. I need something to cheer me up. 

Ah, yes. Snapetastic. See how easy that was?

So, to digress a little bit from the Ireland posting, this morning is that dreaded morning that I live in fear of all year: My annual physical.

I would actually not do one every year, but I take a daily medication that requires yearly blood testing, and my doctor won't refill my prescription every year without me visiting her office. So I go.

And every year, I hear, "Have you thought about trying to lose some weight?" Or some variation of that statement. 

Every year, I also make a vow to myself: I will look shocked and horrified when she asks me that, and I will say something clever, like, "Are you serious? I thought I was slim."

All while keeping a straight face and not giggling.

Anyone who knew me in elementary school will tell you that this is the area where all my plans fell flat. I could plan shenanigans like nobody's business, but I could never stop the giggling. Still can't. I've learned, as an adult, to team up with someone else, and I'll come up with the idea and let them have all the fun. It's kind of lame, but works a lot better than laughing like an idiot and giving the game away.

Today, however, it's going to just be me and her, so that's not really an option. I thought about drawing funny pictures all over my abdomen with a marker, just so she could look at them and think, "What the hell is wrong with this lady?" I decided against it, though, as my doctor has the power to have me institutionalized (I think) and I'd rather not risk it.

No, I have no good comeback for, "Have you thought about trying to lose some weight?" As if she hasn't seen me a billion times and as if I haven't talked to her EVERY YEAR about why it's so hard for me to lose weight even when I'm really good. As if that isn't pretty much the thought that has consumed every waking hour of every day since I was eight.

Yeah, no, lady. I've never thought about trying to lose weight. Why? You think I should?

Ugh. THIS is the Barbie I should've played with as a kid…would've given me much more realistic expectations of what I'd look like as a grown-up (although with way less makeup and fewer chins).

Go, fat Barbie, go! You can tell she's not worried about losing weight, as she's completely cellulite-free and she's wearing fabulous shoes. So, still not realistic, but I bet her doctor doesn't ask her that asinine question. If she did, Barbie would probably tell her to go fly a kite (or some other variation of that type of saying).

Maybe that's what I should do. Tell my 120-lb. doctor to go fly a kite. Yeah.

Not going to happen, but at least I can dream.