Tag Archives: migraines

160 Ain’t Just a Number.

Chronic Migraines, they say. That’s what I have. Change of meds. Great, more pills. Just what I needed. Every time I move it hurts my head. So, I don’t really move much.

Which lead to this weight gain. I literally just now sat in my closet for like 30 minutes crying getting rid of clothes that I simply can’t fit anymore. I go to the doctor, they check my weight. I’ve gained 1-2 pounds every single fucking time.

What’s the fix? Exercise hurts. I don’t really eat too unhealthy. 160 pounds of me begs to differ, though.


Willie Wonka & the Mad Hatter

I woke up this morning with a crazy bad migraine. This weekend was long. By long, I mean bad. By bad I mean I laid on my new couch all weekend & watched movies & Long Island Medium & Leave it to Niecy. I applied to be a freaking pet sitter over the summer. I considered applying to be a nude model, but I don’t tan well & I don’t shave my legs on the reg.

We went to the grocery store yesterday trying to find foods that I like & that I will actually eat. You see, my migraine meds make it tough for me to have an appetite. So by the time we got to the check out, I looked like a pregnant woman. Not in that I was fat, but in my food choices because J-Bird basically just let me grab whatever looked good. Which ended up consisting of a jar of pineapple chunks, tons of yogurt, dried mango, frozen dinners & Gatorade. I’ve lost 20 pounds since August due to these meds & I really need to maintain the weight I’m currently at. Its tough & causes me a ton of anxiety. Which causes me migraines. Sigh.

When I drove J-Bird to work this morning wearing sweatpants, a tie-dye t-shirt, sweater shoes and my crush velvet blazer that makes me look like a cross between Willie Wonka & the Mad Hatter I decided it was time. Not only time to get my shit together, but time to see a therapist.

It’s a big step for someone who never admits she’s wrong. Alright, sometimes I admit I’m wrong, but I never admit to character flaws. I’m just flamboyant.

So, here’s to hoping this helps & to getting that pet sitter gig. Off to eat my pineapple chunks.