metaphortunate: (Default)
Read this before the end of the year if you have eczema.

See, I've been to dermatologists about eczema about half a million times, & they all:
  • got that sympathy grimace of "this ain't gonna do shit"
  • advised me to wear gloves while doing the dishes
  • prescribed me a few things that, as advertised by their facial expressions, didn't do shit. Maybe made it itch a little less but hurt a little more, kind of a pointless annoyance of a tradeoff.
But you get desperate, so I tried, once again, a new doc. And she looked at my current medications, and told me these things:
  1. The advice to never touch water is deprecated. The kind of eczema I have is a birth defect where my skin loses water like a sieve, which is why it's so dry and itchy. And I can bathe in Aquaphor like I do, but it won't help unless there's moisture in the skin to keep in. So it's fine to get the skin wet, just cover self in a thick layer of petroleum jelly afterwards.
  2. Which explains why I had through trial and error found that first a layer of some moisturizer and then a layer of Aquaphor was doing the most good.
  3. Sanding between coats is not necessary.
  4. And in fact, per the doc, I should go back to being the one to wash the kids. And furthermore, I should put a tablespoon of bleach in the bathwater. Yes, some people get to bathe with bubbles, some people get to bathe with fancy glitter from Lush, but my kids get to bathe with bleach; because, and for some reason this is not something that had really occurred to me before, when you go around all the time with bleeding cracks and raw patches in your skin, it increases your vulnerability to infection! So bleach in the bathwater helps fight that.
  5. One of my old prescriptions was Protopic (tacrolimus ointment.) According to this new doc, sometimes that works! But it can also irritate the skin. So! Less itching, more pain, pointless annoyance of a tradeoff.
  6. The other one was generic fluocinonide ointment. And supposedly the name brand (Lidex) is pretty good. But I had the generic. And according to this doc, the difference between the name brand and the generic is the penetration enhancers, which I realize sounds like lube, but actually is the so-called inactive ingredients which allow the active ingredient in the meds to get absorbed through the outer skin layers to where it can do some good. So apparently, the name brand manufacturers put money into developing penetration enhancers that are effective and non-irritating. But the generic manufacturers just stick some propylene glycol in there. And propylene glycol, she said, works by eating holes in your skin that the active ingredient can go through. Which, when your skin is already all fucked up and irritated and hypersensitive, has exactly the effect that you would expect.
  7. Less itching. More pain.
  8. So instead, she gave me a sample of a new drug called Neo-Synalar. It's a steroid and and an antibiotic. Here's the thing:
    Months of torment and this shit cleared me up 97% in a matter of two days. If you have eczema, and you haven't tried this yet, you need to look into it. And you need to do it now, because the other thing is that Neo-Synalar is holy fuckballs supercalifragilisticexpialexpensive. Like, one 60 gram tube costs about $440. But I got it for FREE, because Medimetriks Pharmaceuticals is giving out a $0 Copay Discount Card and my doctor gave me one. But it's only good through 12/31. So if you might need this, look into it now. See if your doc has one. And if you can't get the card, get the $0 Copay Rebate at the manufacturer's website.

    Good luck, and try not to claw your skin off in your sleep. Cotton gloves do help.
metaphortunate: (Default)
Okay, here's a thing.

The conversation I wrote about yesterday? I know it's wrong. I mean, I have an ear for this, I know that it's funny. But I honestly don't 100% know exactly why.

I mean, it's ironic that my mom is bugging me to break a habit that she has absolutely no intention of breaking herself, right? But is that any worse than me telling my kid to relax and get some sleep when I know there's no chance I'll be doing it myself? And I know what would happen if I told my mom to lay off my coffee habit if she's not going to kick her own, because I've had this conversation before. She would say, with perfect sincerity, that my health and wellbeing are much more important to her than her own.

Which is true. I don't talk about it much, because it's not funny, or cute, or some traumatic shit that I have to work through, which are the main reasons why I talk about my family. It's just been a constant source of support in my life: I have always had parents who care deeply about my health and wellbeing, yea, even above their own. How lucky am I. And if they're sometimes spectacularly bad at figuring out how to support that goal; well, sometimes they're not. They did get a number of things right. And I wouldn't be doing nearly as well as I am without all the love and help they gave me throughout my life, for sure.

But, it's still kind of fucked up to not be able to drink tea for breakfast in your own house without being confronted with how disappointing it is that you haven't reached a goal that you weren't trying for and aren't interested in, right?

There's still something fucked up about caring so much about someone else's health and happiness that you push them to do shit in pursuit of it that is way too hard or tedious or unpleasant to do yourself, right?

I really want to know what exactly the problem is. What is the funny part? What is the fucked up part? Because I know something is wrong, but I don't know what it is, and if I don't know what it is, how am I going to avoid doing it myself?
metaphortunate: (Default)
Me: I'm making tea, do you want some?

Mom: Ay mija, did you finally manage to quit coffee? I'm so happy for you!

Me: I drink coffee all the time.

Mom: Oh.

Me: I, uh, haven't been trying to quit drinking coffee. I like coffee.

Mom: Oh.

Me: I just like to drink tea on the weekends.

Mom: You know, some people don't drink any caffeine at all.

Me: So true. Did you want some tea, then?

Mom: Oh no, I already made myself some coffee, thanks.

(and then she made us all arepas and I ate like 35 of them and all was well, yay for family bonding through childhood foods.)
metaphortunate: (Default)
It occurs to me that if I said about someone "I know that person like I know my own mind" I would mean "I consider my interactions with that person to be a dark and unrewarding quagmire of poorly mapped quicksand, unscalable barriers, and bear traps. Bear traps that randomly catch fire. I know this person like I can navigate the fire swamp, is what I'm saying. If I told her that I love him, fuck knows what would happen. Could be fine. Could be lying. Could be the second half of the Blank Space video."

Angelica's mind is clearly more organized.

arms race

Oct. 30th, 2015 08:09 am
metaphortunate: (Default)
US: Please don't give the kids battery operated toys that make a lot of noise.

MR. E'S PARENTS: Here's a battery operated bus that makes loud engine and honking sounds and plays a jaunty little tune! Happy birthday, Rocket!

MR. E: Well, I was able to cut the battery lines, so that's fine, but maybe next time take the batteries out first? They never like the toy as much if it made noise at first and then stopped.

MOM: I got the Junebug one of those Audubon Society stuffed birds that play a tinny recording of an authentic bird call! It's a seagull. Also the batteries are internal and there's no way to access them. And I've already given it to him and he loves it. Your move, bitch.

ME: Hey, that was a real good try. But I think you forgot that your own mother taught me how to sew. I just opened a seam, took out the noisemaker, and sewed it back up as good as new. I even gave him the noisemaker for an outside toy only, how you like that?

MOM: I'm gonna buy them a piano.

ME: No.
metaphortunate: (Default)
The other day the temp I didn't like came to my desk to ask me a question. But first she stopped, sniffed the air, and asked, "Is that your perfume or someone else's?"

"I don't know," I said. It could have been me, or the person next to me, or the woman who had just walked by. "What does it smell like?"

"Huh? It smells like perfume," she said.

We stared at each other. "Then I don't know," I said.

I understand that lots of perfumes are complex and I personally cannot chirp "It smells like a spiced floriental with an amber drydown" off the top of my head. Nonetheless, perfume strong enough to notice does provide more than one bit of information!

Incidentally, I was wearing Lush's Breath of God. Tautologically, it does in fact smell like perfume, since it is a perfume and it smells like itself. However, if you sniff someone wearing it (and it is not a sillage monster) you are less likely to describe it as "perfumey" and more as "did you have a cantaloupe soaked in barbecue sauce, Vicks Vaporub, and Ivory soap for lunch?" It is deeply weird and I love it.
metaphortunate: (Default)
As you know, I have no problem with poly in real life, or even in my Serious Reading; but the part of my brain that is dignity-free and only wants to eat candy corn until it explodes, or the fiction equivalent, does not like any jealousy issues even in potentia in its Diabetes Delight. I don't like poly, threesomes, and definitely not cheating in my fic. I honestly even have a terrible problem with OTPs, and I don't want to read about those characters with other people.

Except, it turns out, with Hamilton. Perhaps because Alexander is the canon bicycle? Dunno, but fanon's got everyone lined up to have a whack at him and I am here for it.
metaphortunate: (Default)
[personal profile] tam_nonlinear introduced me to Sawbones: A Marital Tour of Misguided Medicine, and I love it. She's the doctor, he's the doofus, and it makes me laugh out loud at least once per episode.

Now, I am always grateful to live in the era of vaccines, antibiotics, and handwashing. I've always known that we are so damn lucky to have so many actual cures for things, that work. What this podcast is making me aware of is how lucky we are to not have so many damn things that don't work. Like, when you have a fever, Tylenol may or may not help, but at least you don't have anyone demanding that you rub your head with cowshit mixed with honey, eat a frog boiled in oil, then tie some bread to a tree. ("Can I at least skip the tying the bread to the tree?" "God, it's like you don't even want to get better.")

We still have a bunch of expensive shit that doesn't work, but the natural habitat of expensive shit that doesn't work is ailments for which we don't have anything that does work, so every remedy we discover not only cures an ailment but also erases a bunch of bullshit. It's great.
metaphortunate: (at one with the universe)

I read this stuff and feel like a cow listening to someone complain that beef is so bad for your cholesterol.

Like, in a way, we're on the same side. We both have the same goal, to get people to eat less beef.

And yet, and yet I have to react with I DON'T FUCKING CARE, YOU MURDEROUS SHITWEASEL. Maybe there's a way in which it would be more effective to respond with "That's true! Eating me is awfully bad for you! As it happens, I have this lovely tofu recipe..."

But at the point at which I can respond to a conversation about how unhealthy it is to kill me with genuine concern about the effects on my killer's health... he might as well kill me. He's already stolen my life, whether or not I'm still breathing. I've lost it.

But luckily, y'all stopped reading like 2 paragraphs ago.
metaphortunate: (Junebug)
This is for my friends who have daughters.

The other day the Junebug's daycare class did some small group activity that involved the three-to-five-year-olds taking turns using a limited number of tools. At pickup, his teacher took the time to tell me that the Junebug was very insistent about making sure that everybody took turns and nobody cut in line.

If anyone ever tells you that your daughter is "bossy" because of behavior like this, please note that the teacher described my son as "helpful" and having "great social skills".
metaphortunate: (ambition)
Hi ghost town! I have not been around because all my energy and time have been consumed by SWITCHING JOBS.

Let me tell you all about it. )
metaphortunate: (Default)
Okay. I hate to say this. I really really hate to say this. I hate to say it because, as Sady Doyle says, likability is a gendered problem; in this world where guys just have faces but girls have "resting bitch face" and guys are assertive but girls are bitchy and so on, I grit my teeth at realizing that I like these songs when a girl sings them but I may like them even more when this guy sings them. And then there's the fuckers taking it a step further to "These songs were dumb when a girl sang them, but now that a guy's singing them, THEY'RE GRRRREAT!" Fuck all that, I hate it, but I can't deny this: I love Ryan Adams' 1989, maybe more than the original.

Except "This Love". That song is perfect as is, I want a MMFR vid to it, nothing can improve on the original.

No Ryan doesn't ~fix Swift's mistakes~ or any such bullshit, but I love his version of the songs. Take my favorite: "Shake It Off", not coincidentally not one of my favorites on the original, largely because Swift (or Martin or Shellback or whoever) just straight up stole Janelle Monae's "Tightrope". Go on, take a listen: first "Tightrope" (wait for the beats to start) then "Shake It Off". See what I mean? Anyway, Adams just turns it inside out. At the end, especially; the "it off" part of the chorus dwindles into an afterthought, and as he repeats "I'm gonna shake, baby I'm just gonna shake," the song transforms entirely from an anthem of resilience into a haunting refrain about accepting the inevitability of taking damage.

ETA: Genderswapping these songs really highlights how many songs there are about guys driving girls around. Off the top of my head I can think of two pop songs with a girl picking a guy up, and one of them is Ryan Adams's new cover of "Style", and one of them is his original "Dear Chicago".
metaphortunate: (Default)
Ok, so on a friend's recommendation I bought a BreastNest. Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway. If you would like your boobs to look kind of good ever while you're chilling around the house, like if you would hope that a person you live with might ever want to have sex with you again, I cannot emphasize this enough, the BreastNest is not for you. Like, after two kids, my boobs are not great. I can admit that. But they are not the sad deflated balloons of an 80-year-old mother of five who has never owned a bra, either. Unless I am wearing my new BreastNest.

Which I am, because omg this thing is so comfortable. So soft. It's like being naked except without excessive flopping or the sweaty rubbing that can happen when a boob meets a boob comin' through the rye. Each boob is delightfully happy in its own little hammock of butt-ugly comfort. Me, I have given up on anyone ever wanting to have sex with me who is not contractually obligated to, so me and my boobs and the BreastNest are very happy together. They are like a million dollars, but you can get $4 off with the promo code "Holly".
metaphortunate: (Default)

It occurred to me the other day that Captain America would smoke like a freaking chimney.

(yes I have been keeping myself calm over the past week by drawing Captain America chain smoking)
(it's very soothing)


Aug. 13th, 2015 10:44 pm
metaphortunate: (Default)
Oh my gooooooood

It is 10:45, I am so tired I can literally not see straight, but I have this possible job opportunity, IDK, not that I mind my current job but this could really be pretty exciting, so I am trying to get a resume together by tomorrow. I haven't updated my resume in six years. I HAVE DONE A LOT OF SHIT OVER THE PAST SIX YEARS.

What are words
metaphortunate: (Junebug)
I now understand all those stupid mother-in-law jokes, and all the grim women on DWIL Nation talking about their husbands' unhealthy entanglements with their mothers. Which is not to say that I think I have an unhealthy entanglement with my kids. I think my relationship with my kids is healthy and wonderful, for kids of the ages of four and not quite two. Which is to say, we have a massive crush on each other.

I wish there were a word in English like "sensual" or "physical pleasure" that didn't carry the connotation of wanting to bone. I don't want to bone my kids. But my pleasure in them is absolutely physical and sensual, and so is theirs in me. They love being picked up and carried. I've been a adult too long; the idea of a giant scooping me up and carrying me away for its own frequently incomprehensible reasons is not at all reassuring to me. But it is to them. I love kissing them, burying my face in their little tummies, tucking them under my chin; they cling to me, crawl under me and on top of me, demand horsey rides up the stairs. I could seriously be happy just touching my cheek to Rocket's petal-soft round little cheek all day. This is physical love. I have a crush. And they have one right back. Rocket has reached the "MY scooter! MY ball!" two-year-old stage a few months early, which is not adorable, except for when he spends the entire time I'm pulling together dinner saying "MY mama!" and crashing into me for a hug. Heating up leftovers has never been so sweet.

And I can see that it's going to sting like hell when I become, as is natural, a sort of backdrop for their real emotional life, which will be played out with their cohort. That's what should happen! They will need to focus on the present and the future, not the past! I hope they will find love which sustains and feeds them, someday, NOT from me and Mr. E, but...

...breaking up is gonna be hard to do.

Gotta keep it in mind, though, because the crush danger, the poly trap where the Disney chemicals from your crush make you ignore your long-term partner, the one who's there for you, but you've been together for a while, and they're not the shiny new thing anymore…the danger is real. The kids are borrowed, for a while. Mr. E is mine if I can keep him. Gotta pay attention.


Or maybe it won't be as bad as all that. Last night Rocket was in his room NOT calling "Mama;" go ahead & silently, TO YOURSELF, judge me as a child abuser or whatever, but I know my kid and I know that he needs to sleep and if I go in there he won't sleep, he'll want to play, and if I go in and leave hell sob at the betrayal. So sometimes he just calls out "Mama," quietly, to himself, a few times before he falls asleep.

But not last night. Last night he called out one of his little friends' names. Three syllables, crystal clear. And my feeling was: "Sweet! SHE can come over and get him to go to sleep, then."
metaphortunate: (Default)
Sephora's most recent Gift With Purchase was a mini Kat von D Studded Lipstick in the color "Lovecraft".

Plus: Color, inappropriately, looks like it would suit a variety of skin tones. Looks cute on me.

Minus: Onlookers are not running away gibbering, the sanity flayed from their very souls by the sight of my lipstick.

Plus: Fairly long-wearing.

I give it a 7 out of 10.


metaphortunate: (Default)
metaphortunate son

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