One Week

Today as I write this I am off the Vicodin...so anything crazy I say is just me being crazy and not the effect of drugs...

Ok so it's been ONE WEEK since the surgery...the "mommy lift"...the tummy tuck and boob job...

Yeah, I am an open book...not many secrets here...

Do I regret it?

NOT EVEN ONE TINY ITSY BITSY TEENY WEENY LITTLE BIT

Not even when:
I ended up allergic to the pain meds and I itched more than I hurt
I had to drag around drains and they were gross...and empty them...even grosser...
I realized that the torture chamber device (compression garment) is worse than spanx
I figured out that you have to be a contortionist to get in and out of the compression garment and it is not fun when you need to pee...
that I was informed today that I have to wear that garment 24/7 for 6 weeks
I am forced to sleep on my back even though I am a fetal side sleeper
I try to force myself to stand up straight but realize I can't
the pain meds slowed my gut down (ok, maybe that is TMI...but consider it a warning...)
the doctor removed the horrid drains and it felt like an alien crawling out of me
I couldn't shower until the drains came out
I ended up with tape burns because my skin is sensitive to surgical tape

So yeah, that has been the only downside to this...

I cried in Dr. Baldwin's office again today...I told her that she had given me back the "me" I had hidden for so long...the me that was buried...the me that had once turned to food instead of fitness...she and the nurse started crying too...I told her she was my fairy godmother again...and if you need a fairy godmother I have her number...no magic needed...she is AMAZING!

And I told her that even with the swelling, and even with my boobs still high up (they have to "drop"...I am learning all kinds of new things about breast augmentation...email me if you want details because I'm gonna spare everyone else here...), and even with my bikini line looking like an old map of Route 66 that I felt beautiful...

For the first time...

in like...

forever...

But here's the deal...

It's not a flat belly and perky "Baywatch Babe" boobs that make a woman beautiful...and just another aside here---don't panic...I did not go all "Pamela Anderson" on myself...I'm just a full "c"...in my clothes I won't look any different than before...just minus the heavily padded Victoria's Secret bra

No it's not being skinny...or looking like a Victoria's Secret Angel (because I am neither) that makes beauty...it is the inner beauty...

And for me I have always tried to be more beautiful on the inside than the outside...

I don't always succeed...far from it...good grief I am on Santa's naughty list every 3rd day...but I TRY to be good...I TRY to be an inner beauty...

I had a male friend tell me "you are already gorgeous...you will be stunning...but it's your inner beauty that I love the most"...

awww...isn't he sweet?

yes, those are some very great words to get me through this...and I have held on to the last part...the inner beauty part to help me get through...and to stay focused on why I did this...

So like I said before, I was just trying to fix the outside parts that made me sad...that reminded me of the fat miserable girl...

For me it was an exorcism...and she's gone...and now I will spend the rest of my life keeping this body I worked so hard to get.

Because 90% of it was my diet and exercise...it was just this 10% damage that no amount of planks, or lifts, or spin classes were going to get rid of...and frankly I just wanted that girl GONE.

Now lest you think that I only find beauty in skinny woman...well, you would be wrong...

some of the most beautiful women I know are not a size 2...or 4...or 6...or even 16...

I have one friend...let's call her Victorius...when we were teens she was overweight...and still drop dead gorgeous...and now as an adult she has conquered that weight...and is still drop dead gorgeous...because she is gorgeous inside...

I have another dear friend....no names...who makes me so proud because she is trying her best to conquer her weight problem.  She is a stunning woman.  Skinny or overweight she is stunning.  I pale next to her.  But I want her healthy...and so does she.  She has had a hard year...this year she will end the year as a healthy woman...and to that I will cheer her on...but her inner beauty is beyond compare no matter what her size...

When I told GOTT I wanted to lose weight he said "why?"

I said "because I want to be beautiful"

He said "you already are"

Yes, I love that man as much as a woman can love a man she is not married or related to...he is my brother and "second husband"...and for those words alone I will love him totally...

After he said "you already are", I said "ok, because I want to be healthy"

And he said "I can get behind that...you have my support"

And I had it every step of the way...and when GOTTESS came over and brought me goodies the other night I felt so very lucky I had the love of that family to lift me up...

I have had a lot of help to get through this...being a single woman is not easy when you need help to get up and get across the house...so thankfully I had my housekeeper to do that for me...and Twirler Girl the first night I was home...

I thought Ke$ha Barbie was going to help but she has spent her break as she should...visiting with friends and having fun...not playing Florence Nightengale to her mother...and that's fine...

People have brought me meals and food: GOTTESS, Marvelous Margaret, MarvelousMelisa, my Aunt Jane...

and Tamster and JayVee came to see me to make me laugh and Tamster took me to the doctor today...

I'm so lucky to have incredible friends...so very very lucky...

You can't do this alone...you can't be sliced across 60% of your midsection and have your muscles pulled cut and pulled in and have your boobs pulled up and stuffed with fake ones and a little lipo of the inner thigh without a lot of good help...and I have had it...

And I will never be able to thank them enough...or to thank all of you enough for all the well wishes and prayers...

I told my Dr. Baldwin today that I did this to myself...well actually SHE did it with my permission...but I chose to do this...

I didn't have an accident that caused me to have a spleen removed...

and I didn't have breast cancer that caused me to have breast reconstruction...

I GOT MYSELF FAT...I GOT MYSELF THIN...and I chose to remove the damage...

So I don't feel sorry for myself with the pain, or any of the "problems" I have had...because on a scale of 1-10 on how much a pain in this ass this has been I am at a "4" right now...

Now next week when I am climbing the walls to go to spin class I might say "5" but today I am at "4"

So at one week I got to shower...and on Saturday I can drive again....and I'm off the Vicodin except for bedtime (doctor said go a few more days)...and I can lay on my side for a few minutes before falling asleep...and the drains are gone...and the compression garment is not fun but manageable...

So yeah...I'm at a 4 on how much trouble this has been....

Which is a hell of a lot better than feeling like I'm a "4" on the 1-10 scale of "hotness"...because outside now I feel like a "7" and heading towards "8" but inside...

Inside...

I'm a "10"...

Because I love my life...I love my family and friends...I love my doctor...I love my new body...and I love what this new year has to bring me...

Yeah, it's all good...

Let's make that an "11"...

to hell with the scale...that one and the one in my bathroom....

Inspiration Song: "One Week" by Barenaked Ladies...fun little song...a lot can happen in one week...

Bye Darlings...I've had a week to recover...and I feel fine!

Bippity Boppity Boo

Warning: I am writing this blog under the effects of Vicodin so no telling what I might say...and if there are any resemblences to actual events other than my own they are purely coincidental...blame the drugs...

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE PRAYERS AND WELL WISHES...I AM DOING GREAT BECAUSE OF THE LOVE I FEEL FROM ALL OF YOU!!!!

So my fairy godmother gave me my tummy tuck...and now I am home recuperating...

If you need my fairy godmother, her name is Dr. Bonnie Baldwin and she is AMAZING...

I had a wonderful Christmas with my kiddos...Santa was good to everyone...except my son did not get the assault rifle he wanted (he is sooooo Bobby Shelton's grandson)...but there are limits as to what Santa will put into the sleigh...

My Christmas gifts were that I had my kids to enjoy and that the next day I was getting my new body...

The Cutest Boy In the World (TCBITW) went to his dad's house while Ke$ha Barbie stayed with me so she could take me to the hospital the next day.  We spent Christmas night endlessly watching "The Princess Bride" (one of the greatest movies EVER in my opinion) and I got to bed early so I could get up early...and my sweet doctor called me around 8 to make sure I was not nervous and to answer any last minute questions and to just check that I was ok...now how amazing is that for a doctor to call on Christmas Day?

Like I said...she is AMAZING...

Wednesday morning I jumped out of bed at 5:30 am and took my last shower for a bit (until the drains come out I can't shower)...threw on my sweats and headed to the surgical center.

Once I got there and got into my beautiful designer surgical gown they let Ke$ha Barbie come back and keep me company...which was great until she started telling me why she thinks she needs to be a philosophy major and not an architect...

My blood pressure, which is NEVER high was a bit high that morning...she was making it get higher...

Just at the right time the anesthesiologist came into my little curtained "room" and overheard what Ke$ha Barbie was spouting out...she leaned over to me and whispered "that's ok...I have one too...she's a FRENCH major!"...

We were kindred spirits from that moment on...

She got me hooked up to my iv and then World War 3 erupted...

No, not me and Ke$ha Barbie...but rather it seems that my wonderful Dr. Baldwin is the most coveted surgeon that practices at that surgery center and ALL of the anesthesiologists want to work with her.  The doctor I had been dealing with came in early just so she could claim her...

After some bargaining that I think the President and the Speaker of the House could learn a lesson from it was finally decided I got to keep my kindred spirit "knock me out doc" and I was a happy camper.

You know how you have a good feeling about someone?

Well I instantly had a good feeling about her...and not just because she also has a crazy teenage daughter...I just knew I was in good hands the second I met her...just like Dr. Baldwin...

So then Dr. Baldwin came in and marked me up like a road map of Texas and we were ready to go...

The anesthesiologist came in and gave me a little bump of happy juice in my iv and I kissed Ke$ha Barbie goodnight (I never say goodbye before surgery...bad luck)...

They took me into the operating room...I moved myself from the gurney to the operating table...Dr. Baldwin held my hand and the next thing I knew I woke up in recovery...

6 1/2 hours later...

easy peasy...

I woke up easily and sucked on some ice and Twirler Girl was allowed to come back and keep me company...she is an awesome friend...I lurv her lots!

After a bit of recovery time and a feel about for my strange new body they took me over to the hospital.

I amazed the nurse that I moved myself from the gurney to the bed...

Thank you JayVee and J'taime Jamie for all the crunches you make me do...it's my strong abs that were buried underneath the flab that is making the difference in my recovery and ability to move!

They got me settled in the bed and Twirler girl kept me company for a bit and once they hooked me up to the painkiller pump I was good to go...

One small problem...

it seems that me and the drugs they can put into a pump don't get along so well...

I once was on a morphine pump and I itched like a dog with fleas...

Well, now it seems Dilaudid does the same thing to me...but thankfully I was able to be on it for a good 12 hours before the itching became unbearable.

It felt empowering to hit the little button and hear the "ding" tell me I was getting a dose of drugs...

I didn't sleep but dozed most of the night...but after all I had a good long 6 1/2 hour nap so I was fine.

That first night I even got up and sat in a chair to eat my dinner...Thank you JayVee and Jamie and those planks you make me do...

The next morning the itch became crazy and so I was taken off the pump and given a good dose of Benadryl...it helped but it was hours before I truly felt any relief.

I can honestly say that the itching was worse than the pain...

All in all it was not nearly as horrible as I feared it all would be...I mean, I hurt but i'm not in horrific pain and hey, I did this to myself so I better buck up and put on my big girl panties and deal with it...

except that I can't put on any panties because I am in the worlds most compressive Spanx you have ever seen...

Yeah, this is definitely NOT what they sell at Victoria's Secret...I am sporting a really ugly sports bra and a big high waisted girdle...

Hot...but only in temperature...

but then again the "hot" lingerie can come later...

My chest feels like I did a bunch of chest presses...no big deal...

My stomach is mostly numb

the only real pain comes from my abdominal muscles...now that hurts...but again, not unbearably...

oh...and then there are the drains...

that's the worse part...the drains...

if you are the least bit squeamish, stop reading here and skip down a bit...

the drains are GROSS...and pretty disgusting to deal with...and they are like having testicles attached to me because they are at the lower part of my bikini line...

um...not fun at all...

I'm not even going to go into what they do...it is just too gross...

but thankfully they will be out in a week and they will just be a memory...

and if that is the worst part of all of this (that and the itching) then it's no big deal...

So Thursday morning Dr. Baldwin came to check on me and said that everything went beautifully...and from what I can tell despite stitches and swelling, she is 100% right...she gave me the body I have dreamed of...

I started crying when I told her that she was magic...she is my fairy godmother...she waved her magic wand and made me Cinderella...and she changed my life...

because the fat unhappy girl is gone...

and she is replaced with a much happier woman...although right now I shuffle about like my 93 year old grandmother did and have drains attached and ugly compression garments...but even so I am much happier...

She got rid of the last of that sad girl...all by using her scalpel...

I got to leave the hospital about 2:30...I could have left sooner but I was under the care of the worlds most inept male nurse so it took longer than planned...

I got home and Ke$ha Barbie, my housekeeper and Twirler Girl got me settled into bed and I got a bit of rest...and then Twirler Girl heated me up some chicken spaghetti and D'Nice came to see me so we had a bit of a party in my bedroom...me on Vicodin and my peeps keeping me comfy...

I rested last night pretty well...it's hard for me to sleep on my back since I am a side fetal position sleeper and my bad 19 pound Bengal cat seemed to think he needed to be on top of me but thanks to the drugs and getting over surgery I did get some rest...

Today I have been moving slowly, eating lightly, taking my meds, resting, emptying my drains, and just taking it easy...

So there you go...a little magic happened to me and now I am not a NEW person but certainly an IMPROVED person...

Of course tomorrow I might take it all back and tell you that I want to die...but I doubt it...

I know there is not much fun to this blog but I wanted to let you all know I am just fine...and it's not a bad surgery if you are considering it...and if you do, call Dr. Baldwin!

Ok, gotto go pop some pills, drain the drains and put my feet up...

Inspiration Song: Bippity Boppity Boo...from Disney's Cinderella...because the Fairy Godmother sings it when she changes Cinderella into a princess...and Dr. Baldwin has made me into my own version of feeling pretty...

Bye Darlings...just like Cinderella, only my outside has changed...Cinderella got a ball gown and glass slippers...I got a flat tummy and boobs...it's just the packaging...inside I have ALWAYS been a princess, I just needed my fairy godmother to make me feel like one!

Christmas Wrapping

Merry Christmas Y'all!

I haven't blogged in...like...forever...

And I'm gonna be quiet for a while except for this posting because on Wednesday Dr. Bonnie Baldwin is going to wave her magic wand (or rather pick up her scalpel and cut) and create a new improved me.

Yes, my surgery is on the 26th...

I.Am.Terrified.

But I am also excited...and sorta at peace about it...

Here's the way I look at it...all that loose skin is wrapping up and covering up the REAL me...the one who has been dying to get out for oh so long...you know, the skinny girl that lives inside me...

Well, maybe not a skinny girl cause I am one chica who will never be called "skinny" but relatively speaking I will FEEL skinny...

I feel like a Christmas present that is ready to be unwrapped!

I love wrapping Christmas gifts...I love putting extra treats on the top instead of bows (did that for GOTTSON's gift last night...wrapped the Legos but put a thing of silly putty on top and he LOVED it!...so take note...Silly Putty is fun ALWAYS!)...

I love putting on bows...or wrapping things around the handles of gift bags...

And for the last year and a half I have very much enjoyed wrapping myself up in much cuter clothes that are way more fun to buy and wear than the ugly old tents I used to get at "Tents R Us" or "Muu Muus for You!" (actually it was Lane Bryant and Avenue and the clothes weren't hideous...ok, maybe yes they were...).

But anyway, now I do enjoy decorating the little package that is me...especially with heels!  That's like the bow on top but instead they are on the BOTTOM...but they are my little jewels...

The other night I went out with my sweet girlfriend I shall call MarvelousMelisa...she is one hot gorgeous chick...and we met some of her other hot gorgeous chick friends at the oh-so-trendy and oh-so-fabulous Uchi for dinner.

So I walk in and meet HotCarey and HotPam and HotGretchen...who are all gorgeous and all sweeter than they are pretty...

And for once I didn't feel out of place...I felt like we were a group of 5 pretty girls and not just 4 pretty girls and the wannabe...

It's silly because I have been out on girls night before but I think because I only knew my sweet beloved MarvelousMelisa that being among a new group of friends brought that out in me...for once I felt like I didn't look like "theres the fat old one..."

Maybe it's the confidence my upcoming makeover is giving me...but more likely it was that I was with a group of sweet girls who just happened to also be drop dead pretty...

And yeah, I looked pretty cute in my sparkly champagne colored silk top and skinny jeans...

But REAL beauty...the kind that doesn't come from a bottle or surgeon is from INSIDE...that kind of beauty is timeless and has nothing to do with dress size, age, bra size, or hair color.

My mother never really saw that in herself...

I do...

I know I am a nice person.

I am a good mother.

I am a loyal and loving friend.

I don't even let shopping carts run loose in the HEB parking lot...

So when I met with Dr. Baldwin for my pre-surgery final consultation one of the things we went over was that I had to acknowledge that this surgery wasn't going to "fix my life and bring me a new husband"...that this was a cosmetic procedure not a mental overhaul.

And we talked about it...

Because to me it is a bit of both....

No, it will not bring me a man...nor do I want it to.  I have a man in the house...he is my teenage son and he does the things I need a man to do: kill the bugs, take out the trash, and skim the pool.

I do it for me...

But it will change my life...

Every time I look into the mirror I see that hanging flab...and underneath I can see the muscles that I (and JayVee as my head cheerleader and fitness trainer) have worked so hard to create in me.

But I also see the very unhappy remnants of the fat girl.

And I have moved on from her yet this bit of skin..this wrapping...has her still haunting me...like Moaning Myrtle from Harry Potter, she cries for attention...

So I am going to have an exorcism...

And Dr. Baldwin is going to cut her away..and with that loose skin almost 2 years of very hard work will remain and the sad fat girl can go to her final resting place.

Doing plastic surgery is not for everybody...

And I don't judge if you do or don't choose to do it.

For me, it needs to be done...because I think I still need to be unwrapped...like that last little present under the tree.

I lost weight for me...

I am doing this for me...

Not everyone who loses weight wants or needs to do what I am going to do...and Lord knows that after  I come out of surgery I may think that I should have thought a little harder about it...

and then I will say "NAH!" and just ask for Demerol...

I don't do this to be beautiful...like I said, I don't think you can buy beauty...you can buy great things to wrap up with but not REAL beauty...

I do this to complete my journey...

I started as a 300 pound size 26 fat woman who looked 50, felt 60 and ran out of breath after one flight of stairs...

And I will finish as a size 8, 165 lb (yes, that is my weight) woman who looks...45?  and feels 30...and can beat an 18 year old athlete at rowing 300 meters...

I want to unwrap that woman and let HER shine...and if along the way I can inspire just one of you to unwrap the beauty that is you then this blog has more than served its purpose.

But what exactly to I mean by "unwrap the beauty that is you"?

I mean that if I can inspire one of you to push away from the table and make healthy choices...or hit the gym MORE THAN ONCE...or buy yourself a fabulous pair of shoes that make you feel like you are as fantastic as a movie star...or go to Victoria's Secret and get yourself some sexy unmentionables...or throw that pretty lipstick into your cart at the grocery store...or give yourself one extra minute before bed to slather on some moisturizer...

THAT'S what I am talking about...DO SOMETHING FOR YOURSELF THAT MAKES YOU FEEL GOOD!

But if you want to do something that REALLY MAKES YOU FEEL GOOD...

UNWRAP YOUR TRUE INNER BEAUTY AND DO SOMETHING FOR SOMEONE ELSE TOO

Because when we do something for others, we really shine...and that makes us beautiful too...

so do BOTH...

so often we do one without the other...and I think you should do both to feel good.  It's great to take care of yourself but do a little something unexpected for someone else and you will GLOW!

And if all you do is take care of others (which is what I do 99% of the time except for the few hours a day I exercise or groom myself...) it's very easy to forget to do something to make you feel good or pretty about yourself...

JayVee has been home after some surgery...I have been taking meals to her and going to see her...I do it because she gives so much to me with her classes she teaches and by being my friend...and I love doing it for her...and she is my biggest cheerleader for this surgery...so if by making her some chicken spaghetti I can brighten her day, then taking 30 minutes to cook for her is SO easy!

I surprised another instructor at the club with a really cool scarf from lululemon the other day...I do it because although I have only recently begun taking her classes she has always been sweet and friendly and supportive to me...so I wanted to surprise her because she always admired my scarf...(BTW it is the coolest gift ever...vinyasa scarf...I have 2....LOVE LOVE LOVE...I would post a link but can't find it online)

It's those unexpected little fun things...like taking dinner to a friend or giving a gift to someone you don't know all that well just to make them smile that help you to find that inner beauty...

So, you wanna help me recover?

Then post things to me on facebook about how you took my advice and you are doing something for yourself...doing something to make you feel pretty, or sexy, or healthy...AND that you did something unexpected and fun for someone else...

That will make me feel better...

That is the kind of little gift that I want to unwrap...

OK so now that I have brought up gifts again I can see that once again the magical elves DID NOT SHOW UP to wrap the kid's gifts so it is up to me to finish up the presents and get them under the tree...so I will WRAP UP THIS BLOG...

I will be fine...but please pray for me...and pray for Dr. Baldwin too...she's amazing...

And pray that Ke$ha Barbie can find her way to the hospital to pick me up (I will drive us there but she won't be paying attention I am sure)...

I will keep you posted...

ONE LAST THING:  Lest you think that all this talk about ME ME ME should get lost in the true meaning of the season...

God gave us a gift...His only Son...Jesus...we all have better and eternal lives through HIM...

It's not about ribbons and bows and trees and Radko ornaments and lights on the house and Toys R Us and gifts...or a man in a red suit...

It's about a baby...and a very scared young woman who had FAITH...

It's about a REAL gift...the gift of eternal life...

So receive THAT gift...BELIEVE!

Inspiration Song; oh how i love this one..."Christmas Wrapping" by The Waitresses...a totally 80's Christmas Classic...Glee did a great version too...

Bye Darlings...unwrap your beauty...but more importantly BELIEVE...in Him, in yourself, in others...

Put the Gun Down

No...this is not a blog about gun control...

After all I am the daughter of a man who was more at home with a gun in his hand than a pen.  My dad LOVED his guns...we had a room DEDICATED to displaying them...

Besides I save my "soapbox" moments for things I really feel strongly about...you know, like Gay Rights and Marriage Equality...and no, you won't change my mind about it (I AM FOR FOR FOR IT!) so put the gun down...don't kill the messenger...

My blog.

My opinion.

That is what leads me to what this is really about...going off half cocked...

Cause I do it a lot...and I'm working on it...you know...not to pull the trigger when I shouldn't...

I often find myself with the proverbial "gun in my hand" (not really I don't even own a gun) and ready to blow someone away for something innocent.

Texting is one of the things that has lead me to pick up the gun when I shouldn't...

Yes, texting is VERY convenient...especially when you have teenagers who use that as their preferred method of conversation.

I have even had texting conversations with my children WHEN WE HAVE BOTH BEEN IN THE HOUSE AT THE SAME TIME AS ME.  Sometimes it is the only way I could get their attention.

Once poor Ke$ha Barbie texted me something that completely got misconstrued because we both were confused about something.  We had a 10 minute text argument until she realized she had forgotten one little word in the text and I blew up because of it.  It was stupid...stupider still because I was at Nordstrom Rack.  What the argument was about isn't important...the fact that we had the argument because we weren't TALKING was...

I put the gun down once I realized we were misunderstanding each other.

I had that happen again this week but it was more of a "technology fail" than a misunderstanding...I was expecting an answer about something important from someone and for some reason Verizon or AT&T failed us and this person's answer didn't show up until 12 hours later...I thought I was being ignored about something but the truth was the text just didn't show up...

stupid...

cause I almost picked up the gun and blew that person away...and the poor soul had no idea that the text never reached me...

I'm gonna shoot AT&T...

My dad had a bad habit of misunderstanding things and would pick up the gun and blow me away for something I did not do.  My stepmonster was often the "missing link" in the problem...and once it was one of my sisters.  He and I had a mighty blow up over something because my sister decided to not tell the whole truth about something...he and I argued and when I told him until I was BLUE IN THE FACE that I HAD NOT DONE what he was saying I did I finally walked away from him in frustration and got in my car to go home...when he came up to the car (I was married then) to ask why I was leaving I told him that I was tired of telling him "that never happened" and for once to please believe me and not her.

I put the gun down and got out of the car once he apologized and said he understood why I was angry...but I am still not sure he ever believed me.

I've picked up the gun plenty.  GOTT always refers to it as "calling in my flying monkeys" (lucky him he's not had them called on him and I have never pulled the gun on him either) but he's seen me do it.

I have a temper...but I try and keep it in check.

I turned the gun on my ex many times...when it came to the point that I was worried I might get a real gun and shoot him I asked for a divorce.  He's a nice man but one can only live with an unhappy marriage for so long---and because I was miserable I was hard on him.  Sometimes it was his fault, sometimes it was mine...but mostly it was that we had grown apart and no longer belonged together.  We had differences of opinion but the worst part was the indifference we felt towards each other...

So I picked up the gun and ended the marriage...shot it dead...that was one time when I needed to NOT put the gun down...we are both better off for it and so are our children.

I've been ready to turn the gun on myself these past few months because I can't seem to get rid of the 10 pounds I put on over the summer.

Every time I get on the scale I wanted to shoot myself for whatever "not so healthy" thing I had eaten the day before.

Now I keep the "gun" locked up before I get on the scale and I just calmly look at the number, shrug my shoulders and move on.

I'll get the weight off...and if not, well I am ok where I am and better after my surgery...

And maybe I should just take the gun and shoot the scale...

Yesterday when I did JayVee's killer "Pedal to the Metal" spin class and then went and did "Shock Wave" class with Je t'aime Jamie 3 hours later I did want to turn the gun on myself...

But I put the gun down and finished the class and was proud of myself for getting through it without vomiting.

I'm good with a REAL gun...I won the riflery award at camp (my but Daddy was proud of that one) and achieved the highest marksman status you could get at camp, but I don't shoot animals.  I have no problem with those who do but I just don't enjoy it myself.  I've shot 2 deer and a javelina and that is enough for me.

But it's the proverbial gun that I have trouble with.

The times my temper gets the best of me...

Or when I want to give up on something...

or when I someone lets me down in some way...

or when I "get too much into my head" for my own good...

Well, that is when I need to put the gun down and pick up a lily (I like them better than roses) and stop and smell the flowers and let things work out for themselves...

I'm working on it but I have a long way to go...

Inspiration Song: "Put the Gun Down" by ZZ Ward.  Killer good song...it's starting to pop up on tv commercials.  Get to know ZZ she has some good music but this one is my current obsession...

Bye Darlings...put the gun down and don't blow anyone away...count to 10 or ask for clarity...don't be too hard on yourselves...just because you pick up the gun doesn't mean you have to shoot it...

The First Cut is the Deepest

So I have decided to have plastic surgery...a mommy lift to be precise...

I've spoken of it before...but it has taken me a year and a half to have the courage to book the surgeon and the surgery...

I go under the knife the day after Christmas...it is my Christmas and Birthday gift to myself for the next 20 years.

I feel a bit vain doing it...but after you lose over 130 pounds in a year and are over age 40...well, things don't go back to the way they were before the fat without the help of a talented surgeon and scalpel.

I met my surgeon in April of 2011.

I interviewed several and had the recommendations from many friends but the minute I met Dr. Baldwin I knew she was "the one".

She came highly recommended from a friend.  I won't say who because I don't give away my friend's secrets (although I do give away my own and my families...but only stories I know won't make them banish me from family gatherings).  I'm not sure my friend would care but I do go on a bit of anonymity here...

So I took her name and number from my friend.  My friend is a nurse, married to a doctor, careful with her choices for her family.  Dr. Baldwin did some work on a family member.  My friend is one whom I completely trust for her choices in parenting, life, and herself...so I took her word for it that Dr. Baldwin was an excellent doctor.

The minute I met her (Dr. Baldwin) I knew my friend had given me a gift.

You have to like and trust this person who will open you up and change your body.

And I do...

I knew she could make me feel pretty and whole again.

I knew she could give me back the body I have worked so hard to get yet could not complete the final step on my own.

I also know that she won't make me look like someone who is more at home dancing on a pole than one who likes to dance in her bathroom

(Remember...I am a prima ballerina...in my bathroom...when no one is looking...I often do "The Rose Adagio" from "Sleeping Beauty"...)

I've got a lot of "under armor"...and no I'm not talking about the athletic brand (although I do have a good bit of that too for workouts)...I'm referring to Spanx and padded bras...but I want to not see the loose skin hanging about my midsection when I am undressed.

I want to be able to wear the jean size I REALLY can wear but can't because of the extra skin.

It's not pretty...

Gaining and losing enough weight to equal several teenagers over a lifetime of 48 years will leave its mark.  With the weight I have lost I could probably field a basketball team of middle schoolers...

Lucky for me my insides have fared better than the outside.  My heart is in great shape (physically...although emotionally I miss Ke$ha Barbie and my loved ones who are gone).  I have very strong muscles.  Under the flab and skin I have pretty great abs (according to the doctor who plans to uncover them).

I don't plan to go parading around in a bikini next summer...but who knows...I just might...

I'm not doing this for a man...because there is not one right now...

I'm.Doing.It.For.Me.

I don't like seeing the skin hanging when I'm in a plank.  Among other things...

I'm no stranger to plastic surgery...

Let me rephrase that...I've seen a lot of plastic surgery in my family.  I myself have had none...

Unless you count the poison I have had injected into my forehead a few times to ease up the wrinkles that make me look like I'm sorta mad all the time.

"Hello my name is Anice and I have had Botox".

But that little bit of poison does help and my smooth brow keeps my children guessing if I'm only a little made or really really pissed off...

(And yes, I will disclose here that I go to Town & Country Medical Spa...713-467-0146 or
/www.yarishmd.com/medical_spa.htm...they do a good job there...she uses a light hand...and they make you come back 2 weeks later to see if they did enough and if they have to retouch it is FREE).

So yes, I am vain...

My mother had a lot of plastic surgery in her lifetime...facelifts, breast augmentations, nose jobs, chin lifts, chemical peels, eye lifts, lip plumping, etc.

Some of it was good...some of it...notsomuch.

She once had a chemical peel that made half her face droop.

Her 3rd nose job ruined the perfection of the one before it...there was nothing wrong with her nose and I don't know why she undid the perfect job that the doctor did.

She did something to her eyes that made one droop for a while...

And frankly, towards the end of her life her face had begun to resemble Joan Rivers or Mary Tyler Moore a bit.  My mother was always beautiful...even when she had the "trout face" that so many older women who do too much have...

But my mother always seemed to be fixing the outside instead of the inside.  The outside was beautiful...inside she needed the work.  No more than the rest of us mortals...but she was working on the wrong parts of her body.

She was gorgeous...and in my eyes the most beautiful woman ever.

As I type this I gaze at my favorite photo of her that sits on my desk...she's in her 30's...good nose job, blonde hair (borne brunette but she made a good blonde)...her gorgeous eyes and smile looking back at me.  She was simply stunning.

I even interviewed a doctor in her "last" surgeon's office.  The doctor came out of his office just as I exited the exam room of his partner (a man I liked but wasn't "the one").  He looked at me like he had seen a ghost.  I knew who he was and introduced myself.  He gave his condolences on the loss of my mother and pronounced her to be one of his favorite and most beautiful patients (and yes I am sure he mourned her loss as he probably had to get a smaller Mercedes that year without the income she was supplying him...).  He said I looked a bit like her.

That was a compliment I will always gladly take.

So when I began to consider doing this surgery I thought a lot about whether I was trying to fix the wrong thing.

Nope.

I've worked on the inside...and I've sculpted my body and lost the weight.  I've dealt with the issues that made me fat.  I got a divorce.  I am grateful to my ex but happier without him.  I'm a pretty happy person...I have 2 great kids and a good life.

I don't have a man who drives a big ass truck but that's for later...

I just know that every time I see myself in the mirror that I feel bad about the damage I have done to myself and I don't want that reminder every day.

I hear that tummy tucks hurt a lot.

I'm hoping the pain (and the scar I will have) will be my reminder never to let myself go again...I will not be the fat girl ever...

ever...

I know things can go wrong...but I am healthy and I have a good doctor.

What happened to my Aunt Jane weighs on my mind.

I don't think she will mind me sharing this story...

My mother offered to "treat" her to a nose job (my mom liked to "treat" relatives to plastic surgery...she "gave" my grandmother a facelift).

We have a dear family friend who was a plastic surgeon...he no longer practices or else I would be having him take care of me.  The good doctor lives in Florida.  So Jane went out there for her nose job. He did a great job.

She recovered at his home with him and his wife...remember, these are old family friends.

A few days post-op he, his wife, and Jane were in the kitchen.  He was retelling a story about what had happened on the golf course.  I can't recall EXACTLY what happened but somehow he was demonstrating a swing and...

yes...

you know what comes next...

he connected with the very nose he had just fixed and reset...

My poor aunt's nose was re-broken.  He tried to fix it but the damage was done.

But you know what?

She's still beautiful

VERY VERY BEAUTIFUL

In fact, she gets more beautiful to me every time I see her...nose or not...and her nose is fine...and it fits her face...and she is beautiful.

So things can happen even when you are not on the operating table.

When I met Dr. Baldwin last year she told me that she wanted me to get to the weight I wanted to be and "stay there".

So I have...for a year and a half.

I'm where my body is going to be.

I will lose a few pounds when the skin is gone but for the most part I will look the same...at least when you see me on the street.

But in front of my mirror, well...that will be better...

And I won't be so hard on myself...

or frighten some man who drives a big ass truck if the time that I am not fully dressed should arise...but that's a long way off and I'm not doing it for the mythical "him" because there isn't one...

I'm doing it for me...and that is the only reason I should.

So if I don't chicken out on December 26 I will be in the hands of Dr. Baldwin, her scalpel and her abilities.

Oh yeah...I will blog about it...you will get ENDLESS blogs about me complaining about pain, and pain killers, and compression garments, and missing my workouts...

Yeah...that part is actually what scares me the most...not being able to work out for 6 weeks.

Me...without spin class or Shock Wave class or JayVee's Total Body Jam or Body Pump for 6 whole huge long interminable weeks...

THAT is the hard part.

Painkillers kill the pain...but losing the muscle tone in my shoulders is really gonna hurt...

But I'm going to do it...

Because every girl deserves a makeover...everyone gets to feel like Cinderella once in a while.

My fairy godmother is a surgeon...

And like Cinderella...underneath it all I will still be the same girl...just with better "accessories"...

Inspiration Song: "The First Cut is the Deepest" by Sheryl Crow.  A song I like...and since this is my "first cut" it will be the deepest...and maybe the only one I ever do...and please promise to stop me if I ever say "I think I will get my lips filled"...I don't want to look like Cher...

Bye Darlings...do what makes you feel good...as long as you do it for yourself...Botox...Restylane...facelift...eyelift...body contouring...whatever makes you feel better about yourself...just please don't end up looking like Joan Rivers...one of that face is enough...

Die Young

Today is Ke$ha Barbie's 19th birthday...we have a lot of family birthdays in November...

Now you might look at that title and think: "Why would a mother title her blog with something like "Die Young" when she is writing about her daughter?"

The answer is at the bottom of the blog...as always...

Ke$ha Barbie came into this world with a lot of Pitocin and screaming.

The screaming was me...she actually emerged quite quietly...big blue eyes open with a look that said "why the hell did you disturb me for this?"

Over the years I have gotten that look a lot...

She literally was the most beautiful thing I ever saw...and she still is...although there are times I don't think she is all that lovely...

I've blogged before about how hard it is to be the mother of a teenage daughter...

But now that she is so far away from me at college...

yeah, it's still hard to be the mother of a teenage daughter...

But I do miss her...I miss her a lot...I miss her so much that it literally hurts.

I have never NOT been with her on her birthday.

When she turned 18 last year I didn't really consider it might be one of the last times I spend her birthday with her.

She took the SAT that day...and grumbled about what a pain in the neck it was...

Well that pain in the neck got her into a very fine college so I just shut up and let her grumble.  And she did well on the test and the rest is history...she had a test today and I asked her if that was better than the SAT and her answer was "hell yes!"...

Ke$ha Barbie has her father's smarts and my creativity.  A very dangerous combination.  She can creatively outsmart us all.  And she does it often.

But I'm not going to complain about her today...or at least not for the rest of this blog...

I wanted her badly.  I lost 2 babies before I was able to carry one to term and she was my gift...my prize...my trophy.  She was/is beautiful and smart and has talents I could never dream of possessing.

Her artwork is amazing.  It always has been.

My mother taught her to draw when she was little...2 maybe...and she started out by teaching her to draw a mouse.  They sat at my mother's antique secretary desk and on a little notepad my mother drew a very simple mouse.

Ke$ha Barbie copied it.

Perfectly...

I know that sounds silly that a child that was not quite 3 could draw so well but she was born with that talent.

From the time she was barely able to speak she could recognize shapes and knew things by color.

When she was 18 months old I could hold up a Barney tape and she could tell me which one it was...just from the color of the writing on the edge of the tape.

She knew her letters before her second birthday.

She knew what a trapezoid was before her second birthday...much to my sister Susan's horror.  I'm still not sure whether Susan was worried we had trained her like a seal or if it was that she herself wasn't sure what a trapezoid was (frankly I didn't either...my ex knew and taught her).  She could also tell you (if you drew it) what a pentagon, octagon, and parallelogram was...

Geometric shapes have always been easy for her...and they influence her artwork greatly.

She finds comfort in triangles...

Yeah, that is strange...

She used to place things in what she calls "colorbetical order".  Her Pre-K teacher was sorta blown out of the water by that one...She would organize things along a color spectrum...

She even says that colors have sounds to her and tastes.

She doesn't like the taste of red food much...

Again all of this influences her artwork.

One day I will get her permission to post some of it...it really is quite remarkable and some of it is breathtaking.

She doesn't really photograph people...that's not her thing.  And she doesn't like to draw them either.

But she can perfectly draw body parts...and animals...

Most of her photography is very architectural or geometric.  She's not one to take a photo of a beautiful vista.  She'd rather photograph a parking garage.

The best thing about her photography---I can't wait to see what she does next...

So lest you think I think my child is too brilliant, I shall share a story with you that is sure to make you laugh...and my dear friend who is part of this story should love the memory as well...

When Ke$ha Barbie was about 3 or so we were visiting at a friend's house.  My friend, who I have referred to as Glamazon in this blog (as she is very tall and as gorgeous as any model...in fact she should have been), and I were in the kitchen of their condo enjoying a visit.  Ke$ha Barbie and Glamazon's daughter who I shall call Glamette (because she is tall and as gorgeous as her pretty mama) were playing in the bedroom area.  Glamazon's husband was "in charge" of the girls but I think the poor man may have been unaware of that fact.

Suddenly Mr. Glamazon bellows from the bedroom for us to come there "RIGHT AWAY"...

We walk in to the bedroom to see our girls with soaking wet hair.

It seems they had decided to wash their hair...

IN THE TOILET...

(as an aside here...what is it with my family and washing with inappropriate bathroom fixtures?)

The girls wet their hair and then decided to FLUSH THE TOILET as a way to rinse it.

Frankly I think it was pretty ingenious if it hadn't been so gross...

Once we finally finished drying our tears (from laughing so hard) we threw the girls into the tub and gave them a proper bath...

and then I think we went and had a glass of wine...

In any case that story always makes me laugh and it totally defines my child...

There is logic (the swirling action of the toilet would make a good way to rinse) but it is sometimes overshadowed by foolery (the toilet? really?  how about the tub?)...

She's brilliant but not perfect...

She's smart as a whip but a total idiot sometimes...

She can do something right yet make a mess of it at the same time...

But in the end she is without a doubt the most perfect and beautiful thing I have ever done.

She's smarter than me...

She's more beautiful than me...

She is more talented than me...

And she is awesome...and I'm so proud to be her mother.

At 11:58 tonight she will have graced my life with her amazing self for exactly 19 years...they have flown by in a minute...

I can't wait to see what the rest of her life brings...

Happy Birthday Ke$ha Barbie...you are my treasure...even if you make me crazy sometimes...

Inspiration Song: "Die Young" by...who else? KE$HA!!!!!!  It's Ke$ha's new song...fun and catchy and how could I NOT use a Ke$ha song?  And nooooo...I don't think my daughter will "die young"...I hope she lives to be very very very very old...but the song is really about having fun and enjoying yourself...and that, is EXACTLY what I wish for my daughter on her birthday...

Bye Darlings...the only name I ever wanted was "Mom" and 19 years ago my beautiful daughter made that possible...and she and her brother are the best legacy I could ever have...I'm so blessed and I know all of you out there are too...now go hug that teenage daughter that makes you insane...I wish mine was here so I could...

Oh Daddy

Yesterday would have been my father's 77 birthday if he was still with us...

But he's been gone for almost 19 years...and I miss him as much today as I did the day after he passed.

But it's his birthday (plus a day)...so I don't mourn...I celebrate!

He was quite a man...a funny paradox of a man at times, but still quite a man...

He was a man who:

Bought my prom dress without letting me pick it out...and he did ok...

Cried when I showed him my wedding dress the first time...

Loved his steak almost raw...and sometimes blackened on the outside...

Never missed when he shot his gun...

Loved a good glass of scotch...and red wine...

Told me the most perfect thing I had ever done was Ke$ha Barbie...

Sat a horse well but always rode with his elbows flying (we called it "doing the funky chicken")

Called beautiful women "chickipoos"...

Was loved by women and men equally (and by that I mean that he was friend to all)...

Could rope a calf as well or better than most cowboys...

Appreciated Baccarat crystal...

Could make a fried egg sandwich better than anyone...but couldn't really cook anything else...

Loved the Houston Oilers and Dallas Cowboys equally...

Had a lounger chair he refused to give up even though it was horribly ugly...

Spent Sundays wearing horrible jumpsuit things (in the 70's) and taking us for drives in the morning, and swims in the afternoon...

Loved the people who worked for him...even if he didn't always show it...

Drove every car like it was a race car...

Was more stubborn than a mule...

Had eyes that crinkled when he smiled...

Could speak Spanish better than most native speakers...he kinda was as it was his first language...

Taught me to appreciate good champagne and fine red wine (Jordan Cabernet was his fav)...

Always had a pen, his daytime planner, and sunglasses in his shirt pocket...

Was very handsome...

Survived a rattle snake bite...and polio...

Tried every diet known to man...without much success...but he was never obese...

Was always the life of the party...

Could sing really well...especially in Spanish...

Got lost almost every time he drove in San Antonio...

Was sentimental and had no problem crying in front of his children...

Had the most amazing laugh...and a great sense of humor...

Set pastures on fire with his car...

Taught me to be a lady and a fine hostess...

Once ate eggplant off my plate even though he professed to hating it...he had eaten all of his...

Won a world championship on his cutting horse...and she mourned his loss too...

had a bellowing yell that could scare the crap out of you...

must have done something to the Pi Phi's and Kappas at UT because many of them ask me if I am his daughter and then say "oh...."

Could usually be found wearing a cowboy hat...

was quick to anger...and not always quick to forgive...

Would watch "The Grinch" with me every year...

Died before he could know his grandchildren...which is a real shame...

sometimes made me feel like a failure...that I was never perfect enough (I've had therapy)...

Loved Baskin Robbins jamoca almond fudge ice cream with a passion...

Collected western art...and would often gaze at his paintings for hours...

was so very charming...

once slid across the flooded marble bathroom floor of a very fine French hotel...

Here's a photo of me and Daddy...it's actually a photo of a photo so the quality is bad...it's me with him in that ugly chair...

I like this picture...it pretty much sums up me and my Daddy...

Last night in his honor I cooked a meal he would have loved...me and The Cutest Boy in the World (TCBITW) had steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans...and chocolate mousse for dessert...

I remember the first time I had chocolate mousse.  Daddy introduced me to the seductive chocolate silk treat when we were in Washington DC.

We flew up there because he had business.  When we got to the hotel we were all in the mood for a bit of a snack.  It was me, Daddy, Mom, my sisters N and S, and my brother B.

We checked into the hotel and as soon as we got to our suite I went to the window and opened the drapes...I could see the Capitol building from our room.  It was dark outside so it was all lit up.

Daddy told me to look at the room service menu and choose what I wanted.

I saw: "chocolate mousse"...

but for some reason in my 11 year old brain it was "chocolate MOUSE"...

he told me to order 2...and then I placed an order for everyone else's choice...

When it came the chocolate mousse was served in a small bowl that was set inside a larger bowl of ice...

it looked like the most delicious thing EVER...and it was...sweet, creamy, decadent and oh so full of delicious chocolate.

Daddy pulled 2 chairs up in front of the window and we ate our mousse together while gazing at the Capitol building.

I remember it like it was yesterday even though it was 1976...April...

That trip is ingrained in my brain for that and many things...but mostly it is because that is when my beloved sister Susan came into our lives....we got the call that she was born and my parents rushed to pick up my adopted sister who may have been born to another woman but is as much my sister as those born to my mother...she is beautiful and wonderful...

By the time TCBITW and I had polished off our ribeyes and mashed potatoes I really didn't have room for the mousse...but I ate a bite for my dad anyway.

My birthday is coming up soon...whenever I wake up on my birthday morning I remember the time my father tried to sneak my Barbie Dream House into my room so that when I woke up it would be the first thing I saw.

The problem was he ended up tripping a bit and the 3 story plastic monstrosity (complete with elevator you pulled with a string) ended up falling apart a bit and he loudly cursed as he stubbed his toe on my bed.  I woke up but I never told him....I just laid there silently in my bed while he put the thing back together with the help of a tiny shaft of light from the hall.

As soon as he left the room I leapt out of bed and tried the elevator...and I marveled at the love my dad had for me to make my dream house come true...

Years later my very sweet ex-husband bought me one of those ceramic Dept 56 light up houses that was the Barbie Dream House...I cried...and thought of my Daddy.

Every morning, well most every morning, I make myself egg whites "fried" in Pam and put it on those little sandwich rounds.  I use a bit of light mayo, seracha, and light cheese.  But I think of my dad and the fried egg sandwiches he would make for dinner on Sunday nights.

Of course he fried WHOLE eggs in BUTTER and slathered Miracle Whip on the bread and lots and lots of pepper and salsa.

They were fantastic.  They were also just about the only thing Daddy could cook.  But we loved Sunday nights when he would make our dinner and we would eat with the yolks running out of the bread and Miracle Whip and Pace picante sauce dripping everywhere.

Daddy loved spicy food...but mostly he loved his chile petins (or chile pequin)

A chile petin is a tiny itty bitty little chile but it has more fire in it's little berry (about the size of a lady's pinky nail) than a jalepeno does in the whole pepper.  They are potent...not as strong as say a habenero but close.

Daddy loved to eat them with steak.  A friend of his who was maitre'd at a restaurant in Kingsville even did a special steak sauce with them for my dad.  He made hot sauce out of them and he often preserved them in vinegar or sherry.  He also carried around a little pill box of them to enjoy when he ate out.

When we buried Daddy we did so with his beloved chilis in his pocket and his elephant hide boots on his feet.

Elephant hide boots?

Yup...

My dad was an expert marksman and once when he was on safari, back in the day when you hunted the Big 5 with a gun and not a camera, there was an old elephant that kept charging the game camp.  He was dying and the game keepers determined that for the safety of all and to put the poor elephant out of his misery he needed to be "put down".

They came to my father and gave him the honor of killing the magnificent beast.

Elephants can be oh so gentle...but when they are sick...or old...or protecting their territory they can be scarier than a lion.

But Daddy accepted the honor and, even though he said it made him cry, he put down the animal so that all could be in peace.

He accepted a tusk (this was the 60's and ivory was still "ok") and it stood in our den for years.  He used a bit of the hide to make his boots.  Daddy believed in using all of the animal so we had a lot of strange taxidermy at our house...some of you may remember the lamps made from zebra legs and the water buffalo hoof cigarette ashtrays.  I still have both...and thankfully I do not have the "gong" made from wart hog tusks...

So when we lost Daddy my stepmother charged me with the task of taking his boots to the funeral home.

I presented them to the director there and he questioned whether or not he could get those boots on my Daddy's swollen feet (he had been in a coma and had a lot of fluid).

My Dad wore an 8.5 EEE...and he had strange shaped feet so all of his boots were custom made.

I told the director "I don't care what it takes and what you use back there in those tools you have, you just make sure that when I look in that casket tomorrow I see these boots on my Daddy's feet!".

And yes when my sisters and I put the chilis in his pocket we checked and sure enough the boots were on.

My Daddy went to heaven in his elephant hide boots...and I sent my Mama to heaven in her Manolo Blaniks...very fitting for each of them.

Daddy always wore boots.  Even to formal dress occasions...

Even with his white tie and tails for my wedding...and he argued with the tux guy endlessly until they called me and I assured the poor man that my father did not need formal dress shoes because he would walk me down the aisle in his boots....no matter what...as would my brothers.

My brother B looks so much like him that there are times I almost call him "Daddy" and at times I think I have a ghost at my front door.

Towards the end of his life my father suffered a lot of business reversals...gone were the private jets and trips on the Concorde...the fine artwork...many expensive cars...the ranch in Montana

A year or so before he died he once came to my office and took me to lunch.  As I was getting out of the car he looked at me and said "I'm sorry Nicey...I failed you...".  He had tears streaming down his face...

It broke my heart...

He looked broken...

I looked at him and said:

"No you didn't...and you never will...you are my perfect Daddy!" and I kissed him and got out of the car.

And the only thing he ever did to fail me was to leave me too soon...

And despite all the crazy...despite the doubts he gave me...despite the times I wish he had defended me when my stepmother unjustly accused me of something...despite his financial losses...despite sometimes making me feel like I wasn't perfect enough...

He was my perfect daddy...and I will forever be the little girl in his lap...in that ugly chair...watching the Grinch try to steal Christmas...

Inspiration Song: "Oh Daddy" by Fleetwood Mac.  I don't think it's really about her Daddy at all...at least not in the sense I mean...but for this, it works...

Bye Darlings...I have lots of Daddy stories to tell...but I can't give them all away at once or what else will you have to laugh at!  Remind me sometime to tell you about the time he blew up a deer...or about how he didn't learn to speak English until the first grade...