Mar
22

Metformin, Sometimes I Wish I Could Quit You.

I have been reluctant to post something new for fear of stopping the flow of comments on my last entry. Honestly, you people fascinate me, with your cow-milking and spiny-lobster-catching and sausage-making! Did you know that fisher queen loves to ride a good cow pony? (Ha! I am twelve!) Or that Ornery took the gold in an ice-cream eating contest? I didn’t. But I am so glad that I do now.
Another reason for the long gap between posts is that I shopped for NINE HOURS on Saturday, and spent the next few days nursing a nasty case of Shopper’s Elbow*. It has been a long, long time since I have shopped seriously, and I am out of condition. Thanks to the wonder of Saks Off 5th, I made out like a very fashionable bandit. I found a $498 Elle Tahari jacket for $120! Also, I nearly bankrupted myself at Sephora, found a red sweater at H&M that makes me want to have sex with my own self, and bought a “suede” jacket that I am fairly sure is constructed entirely out of the skin of babies, it is so soft.
The Nearly bet me that I would be unable to spend a day shopping without purchasing at least one pair of housepants–and, well, I lost that bet, but I can afford to lose bets because I FOUND A $498 ELLE TAHARI JACKET FOR $120! Besides, there were extenuating circumstances (long-coveted pair, on sale, makes ass look fabulous).
I skipped my workout on Monday (Shopper’s Elbow) and ordered takeout all weekend instead of cooking (SE is quite debilitating condition), but am back to posting frivolous blog entries, so surely recovery is imminent.

***

Overheard in the Cafeteria on Monday:
LADY1: …well, my sister is pregnant with twins, but they’re not due at the same time
LADY2: Really?
{ME, IN HEAD: Really?}
LADY1: She went on her honeymoon and got pregnant and then she came back and got pregnant again…
{I have now STOPPED DEAD in the salad bar line to listen.}
LADY1: …and the babies are due a week apart.
{I drop the cucumber tongs.}
LADY2: But how would they even know that?
LADY1: Well, now they have all kinds of tests they can do, you know.

***

Remember the friends of Billy and Jeanie? Well, last week the Nearly was listening to our phone messages and he got the strangest look on his face…
“What?” I asked. He pressed a button and handed me the phone.
This is what I heard, in a familiar, drunken, female voice:

“Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birrrthdaay dear Jeaaanieee,
Haaappy Birthday to yoooou!”

***

I am still on a paltry 500 milligrams of Metformin. Originally I was going to up my dosage to 1000 last Saturday, and then I planned to do it Monday night. Both times, however, I was stricken by The Cramping Intestines: Harbingers Of Doom. I have been on Metformin for ten days now, and mostly it has been fine. Unnoticeable, even. I have only had three episodes of TCI: HOD. Unfortunately, Metformin appears to be like that girl with the little curl right in the middle of her forehead. As in, when it is good, it is very very good, and when it is bad DEAR GOD HELP ME.
In all fairness, I have not been particularly good about my eating (Shoppers Elbow! I had to keep my strength up!) and it is probably my own damn fault.

I must tell you that there is a very sinister side effect of Metformin that no one will warn you about. Except me, because I love the truth above all things: Metformin has caused me to lose my desire for alcohol.
I have had maybe three glasses of wine since starting the medication. One of those glasses I was unable to finish—not because I was already pleasantly tipsy, but because I looked at it and thought “Meh.”
If you turn me against cheese, Metformin, so help me god we are through. I don’t need a baby that badly. You can’t spread a baby on toast points, after all.

***

And lastly, if you have not played this game, you have not lived. The Nearly and I are consumed by “Bookworm.” I think I played it in my sleep last night.

*You know how when you shop, you drape the clothes you are going to try on over your left arm whilst flipping through the racks with your right? And after a whole day of this your left arm is frozen in a painful crook? That is Shopper’s Elbow, and it is no laughing matter, so please try to control yourself.

By Alexa | Posted in Ceci N'est Pas Une Ecrivaine |