Life without cheese

Dairy-free. No cheese. No milk. No butter. No ice cream. No chocolate.

how?

HOW can people live this way?!?

When I first decided to write about my dairy-free attempt I was about ten days into the lifestyle change. Now here I sit, two months after I gave that up! Needless to say, I gave it a month and a half and decided it just wasn't for me.

First, I started out going dairy-free in EVERY facet of life. If there were ingredients within a recipe, I didn't eat it. If there was cross-contamination possibilities (discovered that almost ALL fried foods, at least from fast-food restaurants, contain milk in some form because of the re-used oil), it didn't go down the hatch. After two weeks without french fries on top of  missing out on all of my beloved dairy foods, I decided to not go quite so intense with it... after all, I don't have an allergy to dairy and the amount of diary actually present in the above-mentioned instances wasn't enough to justify not eating it, at least to me. I figured after my initial diary-free attempts, it wouldn't kill me to reintroduce small amounts of dairy back into my diet overtime.  After another four weeks of that, I thought I would die if I couldn't have a chocolate shake or some macaroni and cheese, two of my four basic food groups, let's be honest. It was at that point I decided to nix the whole thing and go back to ole faithful, all in moderation. Plus, when I read that avoiding dairy, even for a small time, can cause a lactose intolerance, I feared I'd create a lifestyle I didn't really want to implement for all of my life.

My overwhelming reason for attempting this was weight loss. I know that the majority of what I consume is dairy, wheat, sugar, and pasta related things. So by cutting out diary, I'd reduce a little bit of each of those additional groups, because oftentimes diary is a part of or on top of those things. Less of that stuff equals less "bad" stuff I'd be eating, perhaps replacing it with more "good" things and lending towards cut calories. Another reason why I thought I'd give this is a go jumps off a previous post I did where I revealed my absolute HATRED of my skin. I'd read and heard and been told that dairy can be a major factor in acne issues, so why not, right?

Now, most of you will probably say, ummm you gave it like 7 weeks, so of course you didn't see results. Here's my thing... I'm really really impatient. And my love for dairy, dairy-related, and dairy-partnered foods overrides the hell I found myself living in. Okay, maybe hell is a bit harsh, but no freaking ice cream. But seriously... in 7 weeks I should've seen something, and I didn't. No weight loss, no change in acne, no improvement in overall "feeling" better.

My overall assessment: while dairy-free may work for some, it certainly didn't work for me. I think I actually dreamed of cheese at some point :(

What about you... given it a try? Hated it, loved it, still doing it?

You want me to do what with that?

Anyone who knows me knows that I absolutely detest my facial skin - I have had acne for almost 20 years (and I'm only 28). I hate how my skin feels, looks, and the impression it gives to others. I've become pretty good at learning how to cover it up, but sometimes the best makeup techniques can't even help me out with it. It makes me slightly self-conscious, a little embarrassed, and uberly disgusted.

** So looking back at my pictures (please disregard my HORRID eyebrows), it's the ole hind sight is 20/20 thing. I wish my skin looked as "bad" as I thought it did during this time in my life. While I still remember how I felt, and there is certainly evidence of acne, apparently as I've gotten older it's become way worse... THIS is what I'm experiencing now:

 

I've tried every OTC cleanser, toner, wipe, scrub, mask, WHATEVER you can think of (however my utter FEAR of horrible reviews for ProActiv and things like it have caused me to avoid those at all costs). I've also been prescribed "medical-grade" cleansers/scrubs from my general doctor (I've never seen a dermatologist because I've always felt I could handle this on my own). I added a daytime and nighttime moisturizing routine into my regular, twice daily cleanings. Add that to all those home remedies: baking soda, toothpaste, straight alcohol, aspirin, honey, cinnamon, green tea, tea tree oil, lemon juice, cider vinegar... this list could fill a book, seriously. (** Obviously I didn't try these all together or all at once; this is just my list from over the past 20 years**). Some people were convinced it was the foods I ate (see my Life Without Cheese post), how much food I was eating (I've lost 50+ pounds since 2014), the water, the weather, the location (humidity/altitude), whatever. 

At my ultimate wits' end, I discovered COCONUT OIL. I'm assuming that I never even thought of or researched this is the past because I absolutely, positively detest coconut in any form. It stinks, it tastes weird, it has a funky texture, it looks gross. Now I don't remember exactly when or how I came across this, BUT in my many internet browsings I found a bunch of articles on the topic of using coconut oil, not only as a moisturizer, but as a sole cleanser. Here's only a few... 

Best and Worst Coconut Oil

Coconut Oil for Clear Skin

Using Coconut Oil for Acne Treatment

Coconut Oil for Acne

DON'T get me wrong. Coconut oil is NOT a miracle cure. It's a long process and it doesn't necessarily prevent new stuff from forming. But cleaner skin is less of an ideal environment for the shit skin to happen! Keep in mind I only use it topically, not internally (and I realize I'll probably never be acne ridden because I WILL NOT become a vegetarian, organic, hippie freak, which is pretty much the only way to be acne-free apparently).

My current regimen:

- Shower (I've decreased the heat in which I shower now, as too hot isn't good for you!), only "cleansing" my skin with water... no products.

- Get out 1-1½ teaspoons (not an exact science, here) from the jar and work it between fingertips until liquidy. Rub into entire face (I put it on my neck too) - LIGHT layer, don't glob it on - for 30 seconds to one minute. Get a clean cloth and get it as hot as you can. Put on your face and allow to "steam" for 30 seconds to one minute to open your pores more. Use the cloth to wipe away the greasiness, but don't entirely dry your face. You want to leave some as a moisturizer; it'll eventually soak in.

- Before bedtime, I rinse my skin with warm water and do the same thing.

- That's it.

DO NOT rinse your hands or drop any oil into your drain. It WILL congeal and clog your pipes and that's a horrible problem to fix.

I personally use Dr. Bronner's Organic Virgin Coconut Oil, which I found in the "organic" section at Kroger (City Markets/Dillons/FoodsCo/Fred Meyer/Fry's/King Soopers/Ralphs/Smiths). (Update: I still have the same jar I started with 4 months later and I use it twice daily). There's a lot of sciencey-stuff involved in choosing the best oil, but the articles linked above deal with that, so give it all a look. Keep in mind this might not work for everyone. But coming from someone who's been suffering with acne as long as I have, and exceptionally horrifically over the past four-ish years, I have to say that I am sold. 

I think I will never buy any other product ever again. I'm still going to see a dermatologist and see if there's some sort of internal prescription that will work in tandem with the oil, but I think this is what will be my saving grace (at least bring me to a normal level, not what you see above).

1st row: Day 1
2nd row: After 30 days
3rd row: After 60 days

Clearly, I still have some issues, but the improvement is kinda obvious.

** Update after using for 4 months - at the 4 month mark, I decided to add in a normal benzoyl peroxide cleanser (Neutrogena's recent commercials for THIS product just sung to my heart, fucking advertising). NOPE. Horrible, bad, stupid idea. So I'm trying to detox my skin again and get back to where I was before :(

I hope I helped you out if you've been struggling and unable to find some relief. I will keep you updated on any future developments in the acne department!

His namesake

I've been told many times that I've been named after him, but honestly, I've never really gotten more than that.  My entire life I've lived on the other side of the country from him, always wondering what it would be like to have a stronger relationship, always desiring a fill to that pseudo void I've felt for a more involved father-figure.  Whenever I do get the rare chance to see him (what, once every six years or so) he's always enthusiastic and makes me feel so important, missed, and loved.  I find him oftentimes giving me much more credit than I'm deserving of, but instead of correcting him, I relish in someone finding me fascinating, intelligent, and interesting.  When he's far away, he tries to keep up with all of his nieces' and nephews' busy lives, never lacking in showing support or enthusiasm in what's important to each of us.

I'm sure his day-to-day live is hectic and busy, with a wife, three children, and a grand-baby, but he seems to approach most situations with an open-mind, kind heart, and strong will.  He's had his fair share of obstacles and rough encounters but knows how to keep his head up and urge others to do the same when their lives don't follow the paths that they had planned for.  Watching how his  life and children have evolved and grown, and knowing that he's had a hand in that, makes me look up to him more now as an adult than I ever could as a child.  Now that I've started my own little family (consisting of a husband and a pup, but hoping to add some kiddos in the distant future), I find myself hoping that I become as content and approving of my own life as he seems to be with his.  I also hope that after being married for (ummm how many years now?) as long as he has I can still be as deeply in love with my spouse as anyone can tell he is with his own.

Ever since I started this blog, he's been my biggest supporter and most avid reader and today is his birthday.  This is for you Uncle Ray.  Know that I miss you and the Frankles daily, wishing I could've had the opportunity to bond more with each and every one of you over the years, but extremely happy with the chances I did get to spend with you and hope to still get in the future. I love you and hope that today is a reminder that the world was changed the day you were brought into it, and in the best possible way.

The Habitual Charlatan

Here we go again, that petty business we call deception.
You've started it back up, that hateful deceit.
I see you weaving it oh so well, it's fabrication.
It's something you've mastered, one thing you easily repeat.

I see you foolin' other people
(Or maybe it's just that they really don't care)
You throw around words like love, harmony, and tranquil
And yet you couldn't fathom how those actions are even prepared.

Distortion to you is the natural way of seeing things
Invention is the only way you can look at yourself in the morning
I hate that you don't know what honesty brings
Because it's quite a wonderful feeling.

You don't have to keep up with which untruth you spread this instance
It isn't necessary to remember the exaggerations
Being truthful isn't rocket science
When you can be trusted, no one questions your motivations

I'm done feeling sorry for you
I honestly think you're a lost cause
I just hope for your sake you understand your value
Measures up to nothing but naught.



This is dedicated to anyone out there who's sick and tired of those empty promises of "I'm going to be a better person," or "I just want everyone to get along, man," when all along that "promiser" has been and always will be the true two-faced gossip-monger. =)  Goodnight!

Growing Up

           We waited in that cold, hard, room for hours.  We sat, shifting from side to side, chair to couch, too anxious to eat, yet too hungry to keep our stomaches from rumbling.  He was a brother, a son, a boyfriend, someone who we all cared for.  We looked hopefully at all the other faces coming in and out of the room, trying to instill some sort of feeling through a half-smile and kind eyes.  We weren't fooling anyone, though, we were just as nervous as they looked. 
          "Just a routine procedure," they told us.  "This guy is the best," was how they consoled us.
          We tried to keep the air light by chatting about everyday nonsense, watching some rerun of an ancient soap opera on the telveision in the corner that was more bothersome than coaxing.  We tried to seem tired, closing our eyes because we had to be here so early, but secretly we were imaginging the worst possible outcomes, praying we were wrong. 
          Jiggling nervously then responding, "No I'm just restless," when someone asked if I was on edge.  Watching the door everytime it swung open hoping that he got done earlier than expected because, "Wait, we were incorrect... there's nothing wrong, he'll be fine!" was what we truly wanted to hear.
          Oh, we're supposed to go into the consult room now?  Sitting, waiting, hoping, was what took place in that small, windowless room.  Then, having to watch as tears streamed down my mother's face.  It took every ounce of my own willpower to keep from bursting out into tears, and we were getting good news.  I don't even want to imagine if something bad had actually occurred.  Tears of relief mixed with fear for what was to come escaped from her green eyes, while my brown one's welled up, me pleading to those drops of saline to stay put. 
          The doctor was kind to us, kept his patience as we asked questions that had already been answered or simply didn't really need to be asked in the first place.  I wanted to reach out and grab her hand, hold her, tell her that everything was going to be okay.  But I just sat there, unable to be the strong daughter she raised and needed.  It was times like this when I felt like I wasn't as good to her as she deserved.
          More sitting, waiting, stressing.  "I want to see my son," were the repeated words she uttered, writhing her hands in frustration and anticipation.  "It's just a few more minutes, Mom," I said, trying to convey to her how much I wasn't saying, through just a few words.  When we finally got to go back we were told only one of us could stay.  No questions, Mom would be with him.
          Seeing his breathing chest, that familiar face, those manly hands, that used to be so small, grasping for me to play or help.  I looked at his closed eyes and wished he comprehended how much he meant to me.  Everytime I looked at him, this overwhelming nostalgia crept up into my soul, filling me with sadness that someday one of us would actually be gone from the other.  In the wake of success it was difficult to not focus on what could've gone wrong, but so utterly thankful that he came out okay.
          I kissed his lips and wished I could squeeze him, eager for when he'd be lucid enough to make me laugh like he always could.  When it was time to go, I felt a longing to stay, to shield him from what was to come, begging God to give his pain to me.  "Let me take some of his burden, he's so young, and it's unfair that he should suffer through this," were my silent cries, the doctor's earlier words of "These next few days will be the worst pain he's ever experienced," echoing through my mind. 
          What a great way for him to spend his 18th birthday, that rite of passage everyone talks about.  How must he feel?  Is he screaming inside, trying to put up this front, this tough exterior?  He must be petrified and infuriated at the same time, getting this last chance to be a kid wrenched out from under him.  Having the one thing he loved to do ripped away from him, is he really holding it together?
          "I worry about him," I utter to my husband, "I'm scared for him.  I want to cry and fight and scream for him.  What can I do?"  "Just be there, like you always are," he responds, hugging me and wiping away my small trickle of tears.
          "Thank you Sissy," he repeats over and over, and it breaks me open, exposes my unconditional and absolute affection for him, though he can't see it.  Though it's almost unimaginable how far it extends, he knows, and I never stop showing it.  I want to entrap him and put him a plastic bubble so nothing can get to him, so nothing can harm him.  "How could we have prevented this?  What did we do wrong?" were the thoughts that all of us thought, though they went unvoiced.  They quickly turned into "What can we do to help?  What can we do to keep his mind off the pain?"  Nothing.  It's a constant ache, a constant reminder of what's lost.  Only he can do now, only he can overcome.
          I want to erase it, make him happy, make him okay, make him have acceptance.  Maybe he does and he's just being stronger than I, as his older sister, can give him credit for.  I've seen him hurt, cry, be frightened, run away, need me.  I've seen him endure, toughen up, keep a stiff upper lip, stand his ground, help me.  I just want to make it all better for him and I know that only he can do that for himself.  He's so grown-up now that I'm lost without the little him.  The boy who used to say "Will you sleep in my bed, Sissy cause I'm scared."  The boy who used to sneak into my room when my friends were over just so he could be a part of my life.  The boy who I shielded from our fighting parents and told him everything would be okay.  The boy who used to hold my hand when he was walking into the unknown.  My little brother isn't little anymore and I'm thankful for the man he's become.  I'm grateful for him because now I say, "Buddy, will you help me?"
         Soon, we'll be far away from each other and all we'll have are texts or phone calls, empty emails to keep in touch over many miles.  Will I be able to survive this?  Can I go this world without him there, just across the hall... or just a few minutes away?  I'm the one that's scared now... scared of the unknown, anxious about what's to come, afraid he'll grow up and not need his big sister anymore.  Time is constant, things change, people grow up.  They fall in love, they build their own lives, and I know that I'll miss him so much I'll ache inside, but that's just life.  We'll start our own families soon and then we can pass this bond down to our kids and watch as they form relationships with one another that will remind us of what we had, have, and will keep until we die. 



Joey this is for you, buddy.  I love you more than life itself little brother.