Hi! It's been a while...

My apologies for not blogging in almost a year.

I have not abandoned this blog!  I've just been... busy.  :)  My other posts were a bit random and I never really told you about myself.  Well, actually, I told you maybe a little too much about myself.  

The whole point of this blog is to show that "normal" doesn't exist.  

We're all strange, quirky, unique, and weird.  What's normal to you is not normal for someone else.  Define normal.  Everyone would come up with a different answer.  Of course, it would also depend on what we're calling "normal."  I'm talking about in life... as a human being...  It's okay to not be a standard person and do what others expect of you.  What kind of life would that be, anyway?  

Don't confine yourself to a box labeled "Normal" because part of you is not going to fit in it.

So... I'm going to share my non-normal moments with you by writing about them here on this blog and sometimes having pictures to go along.  :)  

So enough talk.  It's story time!

Once upon a time... In Wal-Mart,

I know you know you think you know where this is going... if that makes sense... and you're probably right.  I was causing mischief.  This was maybe about a year or two ago.  I can't remember exactly.  Over a year ago, at least.  Kayla and I were wandering Wal-Mart when I saw some round colorful things!  They said that they were animal tents!  I was so excited!  In a matter of seconds, I had grabbed a pink one, tore the casing open, pulled out the circular tent and then it suddenly exploded into...

IT WAS A MOTHER FUCKING PINK HIPPO TENT!!!!  

"ERRRRMAHGERD!" I screamed.  How could I NOT go inside of it?  It looked so cozy and safe inside.  I didn't even think about it, I immediately dove right into the hippo tent.  It was magical.  It was spectacular.  It was freedom.  I was in a pink hippo tent in the middle of Wal-Mart and I felt like I was safe.  I didn't want to leave.  I wasn't going to leave.  Kayla can go.  I'm staying here in the hippo tent.  Kayla wasn't going for that, though...

As you can see, my joyous time was interrupted by Kayla's bickering and the awkwardness of a stranger approaching.  I wasn't sure what to do.  I was safe in the tent.  Should I get out and come back to reality?  Or do I stay in the tent until they go away?

I decided to not make such a scene anymore and get out of the tent.  The stranger left and Kayla and I tried to get the tent back into it's circular case... with great difficulty.  We were failing miserably.  I ran down the aisles until I found an employee.  I made him follow me back to where the tent and Kayla were.  He couldn't get the tent back in the case, either.  I felt terrible.  I felt like I broke the hippo tent or something, since it wouldn't go back in.  Another Wal-Mart employee came.  And then another.

How many Wal-Mart employees does it take to put a hippo tent back into it's case?

Three.  And it didn't go back in smoothly, either.  It looked... malformed on the outside of the case.  Kayla and I slowly backed away from the animal tents, awkwardly laughing and waving goodbye to the three employees.  I should have bought the thing.  Especially after causing so much trouble.  :(

After that... I never saw a happy pink hippo tent again.  I'll see it again, though... someday.  That day, I will not leave the hippo tent.  NEVER!

The End.  
:D




Oh, by the way, Kayla is one of my best friends as well as my cousin.  We're a few months apart and basically grew up together.  She made childhood awesome.  And she makes adulthood pretty rad too.  :D  <3

If you have any questions, go throw down a comment and I'll get to them soon.  :D  Also, like 'I Swear I Am Normal' on Facebook.  



THAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANKS!

Don't Question My Digestion

     Growing up, I always got sick.  I'd have killer stomach aches and nausea and just felt like crap a lot of the time.  I missed a lot of school and saw many different doctors.  We couldn't really figure out what was wrong with me.  I was tested for a thousand different allergies, had x-rays, CT scans, and had my blood drawn more times than I can count.  I think that my parents and everyone were just thinking that I hated school and I was just faking to get out of it.  

     I was in high school when I tested positive for mono, and then a year later tested positive for it again.  So either I had mono twice, or mono for an entire year.  We thought this may have been the main reason for my not feeling well.  Even after the mono passed, I still felt the same.  I took different digestive-helping probiotics and whatever else, but they didn't really help.

     I was in my first semester of college when something abnormal happened.  I was suffering from a stomach ache, as usual, as I made my way down the hallway to my music class.  I went inside the classroom and shuffled my way up the stairs to my usual seat.  

     This class was difficult for me, since I had never read music before and the different types of notes, lines, and counting made me feel like this was just a math class with beats.  I was trying really hard, though, since I wanted to know how to read music.  

     The teacher passed out graded tests that we took earlier and when I got mine, I was disappointed.  Murderous blood red corrections slaughtered page after page of the test.  We began going through the questions and I had plenty of my own that I wanted answers to, so I didn't stop myself from angrily defending my answers she had marked wrong.  I was in a shit mood already, especially with my stomach ache, and adding this failed test made me feel like I was about to breathe fire from my mouth.  

     We were almost finished going through the test when it happened.  

     It felt as if a scolding hot sword had stabbed me in the stomach.  I lurched forward in my seat, groaned, and wrapped my arms around my stomach as if they were the only things that could hold me together.  The hot stabbing pain lasted only for a moment.  After it had faded, I sat up while still holding my stomach and looked around.  What was happening?  

     I pulled up my shirt slightly and looked at my bare stomach, but nothing looked unusual.  Waves of nausea crashed over me and the pain wasn't so sharp, but it was still very excruciating.  

     Do I get up and leave?  Should I scream for help?  Can I make it to the bathroom before I vomit?  I began to perspire and my head felt light.  I knew I was going to vomit, but I just sat there, holding my stomach.  Maybe if I sat very, very still, it would go away. My teacher looked in my direction and our eyes met.  She looked shocked, but then glanced away and continued speaking.  I then realized what I must have looked like to her.  Probably something like this:

     I felt the need to run, but I didn't want to bolt out of the classroom.  I've never done anything like that.  There were only 30 minutes left of the class.  

"I can do this.  I can make it 30 minutes easily," I assured myself.

     I was shaky, but tried to remain still and hold my stomach.  The teacher let us out a little early, which I was thankful for.  I dizzily stood up and slowly made my way out of the music room?  What do I do now?  Should I sit next to the toilet in the ladies restroom and see if I vomit? This type of pain was unfamiliar to me.  I decided to call my mom, who works at the clinic I go to.  I got in to see my doctor immediately, well, except the clinic I go to is 45 minutes away.  I drove the way there and when I got there, I was sent to get labs taken and then get an abdominal CT, after drinking dye that tasted like chalky lemonade. 
    
     This was scary.  What if my appendix was about to burst?  Or my insides were exploding?  Or maybe I was pregnant with an alien and it was trying to work its way out of my stomach?

     The CT technician was comforting.  She was was really helpful before and during the scan, and afterwards she made me laugh because she said, "I'm not a radiologist, but it looks like you are probably constipated.  You shouldn't worry, you're just full of poop."  I laughed, but then felt dumb that all this pain could have been caused by lack of pooping.  But then, I did already poop that day.  Am I really that full of shit?

     I met with my doctor and he shared the results of my CT scan with me.  He said that I had an ovarian cyst that burst, but I shouldn't worry because they are pretty common.  I can't remember too much else of what happened, but he referred me to a gastroenterologist.  The gastroenterologist wanted to perform a stomach endoscopy and a colonoscopy.  As you can imagine, I was not excited.  I had Googled these procedures and they didn't sound very fun.

     The procedures were to be done the day after Halloween, which made that Halloween one of the worst.  I had to drink a huge pitcher of laxative powder mixed with juice.  All I could ingest that entire day was the Make You Poop Juice, gummy bears, popsicles, and broth.  It was terrible.  I recall sobbing because I was so hungry and nothing was filling me up.  The sugar of everything gave me a stomach ache and the broth was nice, but we didn't have enough to make me anywhere near full.  I felt like I was on some sort of extreme diet.  

     As tradition, I hand out candy on Halloween and I usually wear a costume.  I didn't want my colonoscopy to ruin this tradition.  I put on a flapper costume with a feather headband and tights and waited patiently on the couch for trick-or-treaters.  I had drank a lot of the Poop Juice already, so I was going to the bathroom every fifteen minutes or so.  Eventually, I was no longer pooping, but peeing out of my ass.  I was so shocked.  I had never peed out of my butt-hole before, so this was new to me.  And needing to go to the bathroom so often.  This made handing candy out to persistent kids in costumes very difficult.  Apparently, I wasn't handing candy out fast enough.  Well, when you're about to pee out of your ass, coordination is a little difficult.  I think I gave the ground more candy that I gave the trick-or-treaters.  But hey, at least the ground didn't yell at me.

     I ended up basically throwing candy at people because as soon as I went to the door, I had to go, and when I had to go, I only had a few moments to get to the bathroom before I poopeed myself.  So, handing out candy didn't go too well.  I ended up giving up and letting my parents hand out the candy as I sulked on the couch with my non-filling broth.

     That night, I woke up and vomited all of my stomach contents, which wasn't very much, into the toilet.  As I was vomiting, I poopeed myself, too.  This happened a few times throughout the night.

     The next morning, I was feeling like crap and I was nervous and I just wanted a burger.  My mom and I went to the gastroenterology place and sat in the waiting room.  We were surrounded by old people.  I felt as if we had crashed some sort of party in the waiting room without an invite by the way I was getting looks.  

     I felt like yelling, "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?  I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT AND AM ALLOWED TO BE HERE!  SO WHAT IF I'M YOUNGER THAN YOU AND AM ABOUT TO GET FIVE FEET OF CAMERA SHOVED IN MY ASS?  DON'T QUESTION MY DIGESTION!"  Of course, I would never say something like that to an elderly person.  Luckily, I didn't have to stay in the room with the staring old people for very long.  We were soon escorted to the procedure room. 

     It was a very large room with cold floors and cold walls.  One wall was completely covered with shelves and there was one hospital bed with monitors and equipment surrounding it.  Opposite of the bed about 15 feet was a single chair.  My mom sat in the chair and then the nurse gave me a paper gown and grippy socks.  She told me to change and then get on the bed and the doctor should be coming in soon, then left.

     I glanced at my mom.  I had a grown-ish body now and she had never seen me change.  I laughed and told her not to look, feeling somewhat awkward.  I expertly changed without letting anything important show and then sat on top of the hospital bed just as the gastroenterologist entered.  She was a nice lady, even though I could barely understand her English.  She entered with two other women.  One was a nurse or technician or something and the other was there for learning/training/something purposes and was to help out.  They asked me for permission for the one lady to be there and I said, "Sure, the more the merrier."  I didn't really mind.

     The women were setting up while talking to my mother and I.  I asked a ton of questions, like if it was going to hurt, would I remember it, will I be unconscious, and what type of drugs will you be giving me?  They answered them all and then hooked up my IV, but I didn't know when they were going to start injecting me with the anesthesia.  They told me I wouldn't be completely under, but I may or may not remember it.  The last thing I remember is asking them when they were going to give me the drugs and then them putting a green plastic thing in my mouth to keep it open.  


     I came to in a recovery room, sitting in a fancy chair.  My mom was to my left and I was hooked up to a hear rate monitor, which was to my right.  I was confused and couldn't remember how I had gotten there.  I looked down and saw that I was back in my normal clothes.  

     "How did I get these on?" I asked my mom.

      She looked at me nonchalantly and said, "I helped dress you."

     I just about died right there.  My mother had to dress her fully grown adult daughter?  How embarrassing. 

     The nurse joined us and started laughing when she saw me and asked how I felt.  Things started getting foggy from here.  I remember struggling to get up, but not too much after that.

     I came to again at home, laying on the couch, with my friends Hannah and Kayla standing over me.  What the hell had happened?  Why were they at my house?  I sat up and they asked me how the procedure went.  Well, I couldn't really remember.  Then, I asked my mom.  This is what she said happened, and some of it I faintly recall:



     After they had hooked up the IV and pumped the drugs into me, I would not... stop... talking.  This is normal for me, though, I am quite the chatterbox.  I love telling stories and I ask a lot of questions.  But apparently I couldn't shut up and kept talking and talking, even as they were trying to do stuff.

     "When am I getting the drugs?  What am I getting?" I kept asking.

     "It is already in your IV, and it is Valium," the women would say.

     "But I don't like drugs!  I don't want to be a crackhead!"  Yeah.  I seriously said this to them.  Multiple times.

     The doctor and nurses laughed, but kept reassuring me that it was okay because they were the ones giving me the drugs and I was not going to become a crackhead.  This continued on for a while until either I had believed them, or I was too drugged up to remember what I was thinking about.  I kept talking, though, and talking, and talking.  Apparently as they were putting the green thing in my mouth, I was still trying to talk while it was in my mouth, making it difficult for them. 

     "Gahburglooru?" I had asked as they were putting the green piece in my mouth and then putting the camera tube down my throat.  "Baagaaba?"

     The women were hysterical with laughter, including my mom.  Then it was time for them to do the colonoscopy part.  They had told me that they were going to turn me over, but I began complaining and saying that I did not want my mom to see my butt.

     "It's okay, she changed your diapers," the women said.

     "But I don't want her to see my butt!" I intoxicatedly argued.

     "Nooo, it's fine.  See, you're turned over now and your butt is showing."

     I had tried to turn to face my mom, then began waving happily at her.  "Hi, Mom!  Hahahaha, my butt is showing!"

     It's comforting to know that I still have a sense of humor while under anesthesia.  I feel bad for making their job a little harder by talking so much, but at least I made them laugh... a lot.  

     After I had "blacked-out" in the recovery room, apparently I tried to stand and couldn't, then asked the nurse for a wheelchair.  The nurse laughed, then left and came back with a wheelchair.  She was wheeling me down the hallway, with my mom at her side.  There were other recovery rooms along the hallway that had people in them.  This I somewhat remember.  Getting wheeled down the hallways and all the open curtains with people in fancy chairs.  I felt like we were moving so fast.  

     "ONWARD!!!!!!" I yelled at the nurse and flung my fist up and forward, as if I were about to head into battle.  The nurse and my mother laughed, and I can't remember if the nurse did move faster or not.  I remember the people in the other rooms were looking at me.  I smiled and waved drunkenly to all of them while I belted, "HAAIIII EVRABODY!!!!" 

     The nurse wheeled me to exit door and let me off while she was still laughing.  We said goodbye and got into the vehicle.

     "Buuuurger.  Burger now!" I told my mom.  We went to a drive-thru and I got what I asked for.  Apparently then I had called Hannah and Kayla and talked with them on our way home.   

     
     I had fallen asleep on the couch after we got home and it was now late afternoon.  My mother shared these hilarious details with us and I stared at her in shock.  The doctor had told my mother that usually people do not talk at all during these procedures.  I, on the other hand, would not shut up and would not stop making them laugh.  I cannot believe I did all of those things.  I still love telling this story, though.  I can remember some of this story I just told you, after I was drugged up, just tiny parts here and there, but mostly these details were told to me by my mother.

     I had seen the gastroenterologist once to hear the results.  They didn't find anything life-threatening.  Turned out I had acid reflux disease and they also found damage to my small intestine and thought it was Celiac Disease.  After further testing, we found out I just have a sensitivity to gluten, which causes my stomach aches.  So I'm not supposed to eat wheat products, which is hard and I fail miserably at keeping up this diet.  I still suffer from stomach aches and nausea on a pretty much daily basis, but at least I know why.  Getting on a 100% gluten free diet and changing my habits is still a work in progress, though.

     Thought I'd share this story with you all.  C:   Sorry it's so long!  I'll add more pictures soon!

<3
- if.

Bear Ain't Lyin'

I've had this stuck in my head all day....

... Right.  My best joke ever. Teehee.

 <3

- if.