Before [Insert Picture Here]

If you scroll down, you'll see that my blog looks new and different. It has pictures now. I thought I'd get a little spiffy. I'm not the best photographer, but I'm going to make the girl child or the husband help me with that later. I started by myself though, and took a bunch of pictures yesterday with the girl child's really super nice camera, but then I realized that it had no memory card in it. Duh. So I took a bunch more with the husband's also super nice camera. He gave me my very own memory card. Nice.

The girl child is going to take a picture of me today. This is a big deal, because generally I hate getting my picture taken. Don't get too excited, though, because you may never get to see it. It will be my "before" picture, and I'm not so sure I'm going to want to post it. I know something about "before" pictures. When the boy child was a newborn, I had a makeover in American Baby magazine. I looked like crap in the "before" picture; I had a 20 month old and a newborn, after all. But I must say, I looked kinda hot in my "after" picture. They used really nice lighting and had a team of makeup artists and stylists work on me. I would like to look like that again. I imagine my new "after" picture won't come close, but you never know.

I'm also going to write down my weight. Once, many years ago, I was taking an exercise class and the instructor went around the room asking everyone why they were there. When she got to me, I said, "I want to get rid of the rest of my baby weight." "That's great!" the instructor said, "How old is your baby?" And I said, "Three." The class laughed. Unfortunately, it wasn't a joke. I'm no longer carrying that baby weight, but as a woman of a certain age (using the urban dictionary definition, not the french one) I find it's really easy to put weight on, but I have some serious trouble taking it off. I worry that I'm becoming like some of the women I ride the bus with in the morning. Slightly, or more than slightly, overweight. Sometimes they're walking with a cane. I can feel myself moving more slowly in the morning when I walk to work, opting for the subway in the cold. It's becoming harder and harder to get out of bed. I don't want this to define me. I don't want it to be me.

Months ago, after I finished physical therapy, I started regular massage sessions and they definitely helped. I don't have to explain this to you. Massage = good. But now that you know I go, I don't want you to be concerned that since I've got photos on the blog now, I will post one of me getting a massage. Because I won't. I promise. That would be scary. My acupuncture treatments just started last week. I promise that I will never post a picture of me with needles sticking out of my body, either. Not to worry. Anyway, I'll admit, not much happened after my first acupuncture treatment. But I didn't expect miracles. This week, however, the doctor switched something up. This week, my knee feels better, and I can touch my elbow without feeling any kind of pain. I suppose it could be my imagination. And to be honest, that would be OK.

Imaginary relief would be cool. This whole thing is really about feeling better, after all. It's about having more energy, feeling less fatigue, less pain, and less symptoms all around. And it's about doing it without drugs, because as I mentioned in the past, drugs make me loopy. I rarely endorse drugs, except during childbirth. Childbirth is a major exception to that rule. But I feel grateful that my fibro is just chronic. I count my blessings every day. It could be worse. It could be much worse.

Not to sound ominous, but last night, after my visit to the doctor, I asked the family to go out to dinner with me for my last meal. Well, not really last meal. I started my "purification program" today. The husband wanted to know if there were any recipes that he could make for me. The girl child, of course, wanted to know how the program would affect her. The boy child didn't say much of anything. This was to be expected. At dinner, I had a burger. And fries. And wine. And French Onion Soup with cheese melted over the side. And it was good.

This morning I hit the grocery store early. Boy my shopping cart looked colorful. Lots of fruits and veggies. As I write this, I'm trying to down my first shake. I put in mixed berries and banana, carrot juice and flax seed oil. It's not bad, but I made it too thick and the texture is a little gritty from the powder. Don't ask me what's in the powder. I don't want to know. I glanced at the ingredient list and I'm pretty sure it said brussel sprouts. Don't get me wrong—I like brussel sprouts. Just not in powder form. I also had to take ten capsules of stuff (again, don't ask me what's in it) and I suck at taking pills. I have to do this three times a day. I suppose it will help me get through the half gallon of water I'm supposed to drink, though. Besides the shakes, I can eat most fruits and veggies, some wild or brown rice, and lentils. After 10 days, I can add some lean protein. I'll get back to you and let you know how this goes. Twenty one days is a long time. I believe that I will be done prior to Valentine's Day, however. This is a relief, because I'm not positive, but I don't think that chocolate is in any of the food groups I can choose from. And neither is wine.

I also have to figure out how I'm going to make this work . . . at work. I can't make shakes in the morning at home—the blender will pretty much wake the entire household. Well, the boy child. He's the only one still asleep. And exercise—can I do that in the morning? I bought a Yoga DVD, and it came with a CD that I'm going to load into my itunes at work. Relaxing. The DVD stars Bob, the trainer from the Biggest Loser. I love Bob. I used to sit on the couch, eat chips, and watch him make those suckers exercise. It's got three levels of difficulty, including beginner. I figure if the Biggest Loser folks can do it, I can too. I just hope no one sneaks in and takes a picture.