No wonder I'm not dreaming--I can barely sleep. My brain is swirling, swirling, with a thousand things. It's always like this, this time of year; I worry about work and our big annual event. Will it be a nice evening? Will our winners feel celebrated? Will all the plans I made go well? Will we make ANY money? Arghhhh. I also worry about the holidays, for some dumb reason. I guess because I put such high expectations on them. I want to make sure I get just the right gifts and for everyone to like their gifts, plus I want our time together to be stress-free and special. How stupid to put stress on yourself over trying to be stress-free!!! To add to the anxiety, I haven't been home all year, so I start to cry when I think about flying home and finally seeing my darling dad.
I also have yet another surgery coming up. I know it's not complicated and that it's more cosmetic than health-related, but I'm still anxious. I don't want to have more problems with the anesthetic, and I'm still unsure I want to have the nipple replacement. I never loved my nipples to begin with, to be frank, so I just figured I wouldn't get new ones. Or, if I did, I would just get the tattoos and be done with it. Since Dr Vera Wang told me I'd need to get an adjustment to my right side, which is sagging and will apparently continue to drop further until she tightens the 'hammock' underneath, I wrapped my brain around having that done (not so much because it looks uneven, but because it's getting more and more uncomfortable), even though I'm afraid to have another surgery, but I haven't been able to wrap my brain around getting the nipples, too. When I was trolling the message boards (yeah, yeah, I know I said I wouldn't do it anymore), I saw that normally a doctor takes tissue from another part of your body and uses it to construct the nipple. Blech. Unappealing for so many reasons. Staph, anyone?? But I was just talking to Dr Vera Wang's office assistant and she seemed really shocked I wouldn't want to have the nipples replaceed. "That's like getting a new Christmas tree but not putting the ornaments on!" she said. Well, using a Christmas tree analogy is one way to get my attention. Plus, she told me, Dr Vera Wang doesn't do the procedure with other tissue, she apparently saved some under my scars and will be using that. So...more to think about. The surgery is scheduled for three weeks from now, so I still have some time to decide. I've never really been about how I look naked, but I suppose it makes sense to look as much like I did before as medically possible.
I'm also kinda thinking about how I look more lately because I got a strange letter in the mail. It isn't signed, but seems to be from someone who knows me. It says they've long admired me and wish they had made a better effort to get together, and would I be amenable to trying now? Even though they're now married? A couple of pals thought it was just a sort of chain letter, since it's typed and had used an address label on the envelope. But I don't know. The letter mentions tennis (even my Roger), travel, red wine and theater. It also mentions using a code word on Facebook. So I feel vaguely uneasy that someone out there is waiting for something from me. Something I don't think I'm able to give, for many reasons. I have an idea who the letter-writer might be. Putting the married part aside (and I really do actually only have one rule, no married men, learned that lesson the hard way), even though I thought I was trying to open myself up to the possibility of being with someone eventually, the reality keeps me awake at night. I had a therapist once tell me that I keep myself overweight and hide behind long hair and glasses because I'm afraid of intimacy. OK, maybe. Probably. Still true, probably. And now I REALLY have an excuse! Why would anyone want to look at fake boobs?? Sigh. I know a gentleman worth waiting for won't care, but I need to stop having doubts. Put away the wall. And probably stop reading Persuasion or watching the Hallmark Movie Channel...
But is this anonymous letter-writer the answer? A step in the right direction? Or will I feel even worse? Yet more to keep me from sleeping.
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