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jenna-jayde-the-renagade · 4 years

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So my life has gone to shit.. I dont trust anybody anymore, and honest to god I cant help but keep thinking of ways to end it. My mom keeps telling me how to feel about this whole thing, that I should be grateful that i got in finally to see a specialist. Reality is I dont even trust those subhuman animals anymore, and frankly they're gonna have to earn my trust. After 4 fucking years, my life, my future being ruined. My mental health going downhill, all for the second time now. Add on to that, I dont get any meds for the pain so this has pushed me into addiction now for a second time. I've been dehumanized and humiliated, treated with nothing but the utmost disrespect while being stigmatized for being mentally ill, transgender and a recovering addict for most of it. They ignored me for 4 years, my body is damaged, and frankly help just might have came too little too late. I wont just suffer through the next one, the next time this happens I'm gonna end my life, my suffering on my own god damn terms. Atleast I still have control over that..

Fuck the canadian healthcare system. Some days I honestly just want to start selling drugs, and fly to a country where I can just pay to play and get the best care in the god damn world. Cause 4 years now I've been telling them to refer me to a specialist, I've been telling them that it's probably crohns or some other GI issue. They need to do a colonoscopy and a scope to find it, so that's what I would ask for. I would never get it, so i more or less gave up on the healthcare system. They would leave me on the floor thrashing in pain for hours. Treating me like a drug addict in withdrawal when I didnt even have any opioids in my system. I would be lucky if I got an IV for fluids, and even more lucky if they pumped me full of a bunch of over the counter drugs and others that didnt work like gravol, tauridol, buscopan, zofran, and haliperidol. I would tell them each time, that this was the hundredth time they tried gravol, and it doesnt help people when they're screaming in pain. They treat the nausea. Its bullshit because I am in so much pain that its making me nauseous and until they get rid of the pain, the vomiting is just gonna continue. They always treat me like I'm full of shit, and when I turn out to be right and continue puking, thrashing and screaming in pain, they just get angry at the fact they were wrong. Our doctors and nurses are a bunch of sociopathic, apathetic adult children who in my experience take pleasure in watching you suffer. The worse I get the more they smile. They are so stupid, blind almost because if their stupid fucking machine says I'm ok then I guess it's all in my head. They only think that theres nothing wrong with me because theyve only ever done a blood test or an xray. Never ever once have they done a single test that would have found the issue, crohns cant be found just on a blood test. The emergency room doctors think it can be, my family doctor and everybody else I've talked to says otherwise.

On January 1st I was having another flare up, and they shoved me in the psych observation room because they genuinely didnt want to deal with me. They ignore me, and I keep going in because I want help. I dont want to end up relapsing again cause I cant take the god damn pain! But nope, I get treated like a crazy person now.. they did it against my will. And they even tried to take my phone and my keys. I was puking constantly, I needed water to keep hydrated and they left me for 4 hours, locked in, no meds, no help or nothing. So I just cracked.. I had nothing to barf in, to wipe my nose with, or to wipe the cold sweat off me. So I puked in every corner of that room, I puked beside the bed especially because a mop wouldnt fit in there. I pissed in the corner, I would hack up some phlegm and spit it all over the floors and walls, I blew snot rockets on every surface too! After a while some nurse came in and gave me a barf bag. I threw it on the floor and just continued to puke over every hard surface in the place. I was puking every 5 seconds I swear, and the doctor finally came in at 3 hours and 15 minutes. At 3.5 hrs they give me two pills. I straight up tell them there is no point in even taking them. I couldnt even keep water down and these people are stupid enough to make me take pills? Come on. You need to hold it in for atleast an hour to see even the most minimal affects. I was puking every 5 seconds, to the point that I puked before I took the pills, and I puked them out the moment after I swallowed. They had given me a fucking gravol tab, and some Ativan, the latter of which I couldnt even hold under my tongue long enough. I barfed it onto the floor when it was half dissolved. They come back with this clear liquid shit in a shot glass. I swallowed it right after I puked. The liquid burned my insides, and i puked that shit out even quicker. I asked them to give me IV medications for that exact reason, I always ask for IV medications cause its literally a waste of your time and mine to just pump me full of pills when I can't keep them down and they hurt my tummy as they dissolve. They tell me to just "breathe deeply and relax" and to "just try jayden, you gotta try", so then I try, and when they end up being wrong, and I can't take shit. They end up saying that I'm manipulating, that I'm drug seeking or I'm not trying hard enough to make it work. Absolute bullshit, over the course of 4 years I have quite literally told them what to do. I have multiple family members with this disease, and my grandmother was ignored like this too. She told me to ask them for a colonoscopy and a scope, and to ask them to treat the pain, not the nausea cause the pain literally causes the nausea. The sooner the pain is gone the sooner I can be normal and tell them what's going on. Instead I'm left to suffer in the worst pain a human being can feel. I get treated like shit and told it's all in my head. I gave up on getting a diagnosis in year two. I just want to shoot dope whenever the pain comes. Dope atleast takes it away, after all they would be giving me some of the strongest shit they have at the hospital if I was some boomer with a sprained ankle. It would take the pain away. Thats for sure. Being a mentally ill, drug using, autistic tranny they just see that. I get nothing. No help, no answers, not even some relief when my screaming can be heard far and wide.

I want to die right now, and I keep trying to think of a painless way to do it.. buying $400 worth of street fentanyl and slipping into a nice, peaceful opioid coma seems like a wonderful idea right now.. that would end the fucking suffering atleast..

I wont be wearing a colostomy bag. Colostomy bags arent sexy, they are fucking disgusting and you cant just be body positive when you have a fucking bag full of your own shit hanging off you, and your only way of having penetrative sex sewed up permanently and taken away from me. Not like I could even be a decent fuck for anybody at this point anyways. Its painful to shit, let alone anything else. I dont want to give up food either. I love food, food is literally my life and the only way I have to bond with certain people! Like my family for example. Nothing makes me just want to slip.into that coma more then the worry of the future.

Will I be sitting at a family gathering eating bland gluten free, dairy free, all organic 100% vegan fair trade horse shit on a plate while my family actually gets to enjoy the food I used to be able to eat? Moms spaghetti, grandmas meat pies, the baked goods, fresh tomatoes out of my garden and others. A good fucking steak even? Cause honestly a birthday isnt a birthday if I dont have my birthday meal.

I know for a fact my body is damaged from 4 years of suffering. I used to bounce back, now it takes the wind out of my sails for a month.

Needless to say, I just want to fucking die more then anything else. Positivity and anything I love is gone, and all that I have left is knowing that Alberta health services, coast mountain health services, providence health services, and interior health services have all fucked me in the biggest way humanely possible. So thankful for free fucking healthcare!!

You get what you bloody well pay for!!

#thisiswhattranslookslike #girlslikeus #transgender #mtf #trans #transition #hrt #transgender girl #transformation #chronic illness #chronic pain #chronically sick #crohns disease

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tonysopranosfeverdreams · 4 years

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hi just wondering do u know any dinner recipes that r like healthy and quick to cook? bc i just started spring semester of zoom college and im tired all the time so ive just been eating r turkey burgers and salads every night for dinner but i need more variety than that <3

i really really feel that omg tbh i eat like a healthy college student lately one thing thats a staple for me is rly good scrambled eggs? like usually ill have some onions and cherry tomatoes and spinach on hand and throw them in with some cheese and make some toast and thats a nice easy dinner. I also like to do different things with the staples i have so like ill make spaghetti with sauce and throw in a veggie chik'n patty and its kinda like veggie chicken parm or ill have a pack of veggie sausage and eat it hot dog style with onions or like chop it up and put it in with pasta and vodka sauce onions and mushrooms and spinach..basically i just keep a lot of different veggies/proteins i like on hand and try to change up how i cook them because it's cost effective too i also LOVE having frozen vegetables on hand like at any given moment i have at least one bag of peas broccoli corn etc in the freezer and its really easy to just pop that in the microwave and have a side bc im also like...i cant just eat one thing for dinner i need ~variety i need a side dish so i always have salad or veggies with everything and frozen veggies are so so easy but yeah im definitely not above eating a veggie burger and like peas a couple nights a week so i need to get more creative too....also its funny i saw this when i woke up from a nap and then proceeded to go get fake chicken and rice mix out of my freezer and drink a pbr for dinner at 8:30 pm lol but im not above it like those premixed veggie combos are helpful too like to be fair i have a very small kitchen so i dont have a lot of room for cooking but also its just convenient to get ready really quickly

oh i also try to eat healthy versions of things too? like i eat protein plus or vegetable pastas vegan cheese gluten free tortilla chips and stuff and vegan or protein boxed mac n cheese lol i dont know how much of a difference it makes but it helps me feel like im eating healthier at least

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boymeetsweevil · 7 years

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blue, not blanc - nsfw

Grouping: Reader x Jimin, SMUT wow

Word Count: ~4.5k

Warnings: straight up sex, fingering, panty fetish perhaps? breathplay if you squint?? DEFINITELY NSFW

Based off the following prompt :)

1.5 months before

Jimin was cooking dinner, like the good fiancé he was. You slid into a seat at the breakfast bar and sighed, hoping he would turn around to see what you needed. When he merely hummed in greeting you were forced to cut to the chase.

“I have a favor to ask you,” your sheepish tone finally made him to look up from the red sauce he had been painstakingly simmering, “I need you to be my date for the black and white investment dinner. I’m letting you know now so you can’t say you already made plans.” 

“How do you know I don’t already have plans?” 

“Jimin, please. Its a month and a half from now and we know you don’t plan that far ahead.” 

“Maybe I should start.” He stuck his tongue out at you before turning back to his precious marinara. 

“You can start by making sure you have a suit. And it has to be white.”

“Why does it have to be white? Isn’t that too...Las Vegas or something?” 

“Its white because the firm chooses the color scheme. This year the investors wear black and the firm employees wear white. It’s an annual thing. Please.” 

Jimin sighed, but didn’t argue further. You came as his date to all the horrible holiday parties they hosted every year at the newspaper. You even bought an ugly sweater the year he had been trying to suck up to his boss for a promotion. To this day he’s convinced that heinous wool article is what got him his current position of junior editor.

“What color should the tie be?” He walked over to your spot at the kitchen table, one hand cupped beneath the wooden spoon he held in the other. You leaned in to try it before flashing a thumbs up when it didn’t seem to be lacking any specific ingredient. 

“The tie doesn’t have to be a specific color as long as it goes with your suit and my dress,” you froze mid sentence, “Shit. I need a dress.” You were quiet for a few beats as you watched him hunt around for the chili pepper flakes before calling his name sweetly. Too sweetly. 

“What is it now?” 

“I have such a bad migraine that if I so much as look at another screen tonight, I’ll cry. Do you think maybe you could possibly buy the dress for me after dinner? From that French store where you bought that scarf you got me?” 

“Sure.” 

“Great. I’ll send you the links. Oh, I need their no-show underwear too. It’s better than going commando, I swear,” you said cheerfully as you pulled out your phone. 

“I thought your head was going to explode if you looked at another screen.” 

“How else am I going to send you the links, Minnie?” 

He raised an incredulous eyebrow and put a steaming plate in front of you.

“So, do I have to buy them tonight or can it wait a little. I’m waiting on a call from Taehyung about the parts for that vintage coffee maker I’ve been working on.” 

“Well,” you chewed your noodles thoughtfully, “I guess as long as you don’t wait longer than 2 weeks. Everything always sells out of that shop really fast so you have to be quick about it, especially the underwear. I would buy it myself but my boss has been working me to the bone with reviewing these new manuscripts.” 

“Leave it to me.” 

24 days following

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he muttered to himself.

Jimin felt anxious sweat begin to prick at his hairline as he read your messages over and over again. He checked his calendar and grimaced when he saw that there were less than 3 weeks until the dinner and he still hadn’t ordered your clothes like you’d asked him to.

Once his order was called, he took his drink and sprinted out of the coffee shop he had been working in to drive back to his apartment where he’d left his laptop.

Your warning about items selling out and customs holding packages for an extra long time haunted him as he scoured his texts for the links you’d sent a little less than a month ago.

Jackpot.

He opened your laptop and carefully typed in the name of the dress you had bookmarked and sent to him. It was a nice dress, he noted, as he clicked on the drop-down menu and scrolled through the color available color options. When his cursor landed on the color IV (for ivory, as detailed in your text) he said a small thank you to the forces of the universe above. He added the dress to the cart and went to the search bar again to find the underwear. He blew out another breath of relief when he saw that the famous no-show panties weren’t all sold out.

He searched for ivory again but he couldn’t find it. Is it sold out? How could it be sold out? All that’s left is BL. What’s BL. BL...for blanc because its french for white and ivory is white. I’m a genius. he pat himself on the back as he put the underwear in his cart and entered his card number. He had to grit his teeth when he saw the large chunk of change it would cost him to expedite shipping, but he supposed it was a meager price to pay for almost missing out on buying your dress after you’d asked so far in advance. 10 days later, Jimin received the package and called you to let you know that as soon as you finished your last manuscript you should hurry over and try on the dress to see if it needed any alterations. You swung by one morning later in the week to try on the dress in his en suite on your way to work.

“Does it fit,” he asked in a half yawn as he leaned against the bathroom door. He nearly fell on his face when you swung the door open and handed him the haphazardly folded dress because you were running late. 

“Yep. See you back here Friday! Make sure your suit is ready,” you shouted before swinging his door closed. 

The day

Friday rolled around too quickly for comfort. You had barely gotten 2 days to rest from non-stop reading and editing before you had to commute to Jimin’s immediately after work.

“Who the fuck schedules a gala at 7:30 on a Friday”, you had fumed to yourself earlier during rush hour.

Currently, Jimin was brushing his teeth in the bathroom frantically, dress shirt still half open, only briefs, and tube socks adorning his lower half. He was thinking about whether he would need to waste time styling his hair, seeing as the humidity from his shower was causing it to wave gently, when he heard a shout from the bedroom.

“Wha happeth? Ah you hut?” He panted around his toothbrush. 

Nothing seemed to be wrong. Half your hair was in curlers and you still had your towel on as you stared down into the box where the dress and underwear were stashed away.

“I told you to order white underwear. Look at this,” you pulled the panties from their wrapping to reveal that they were in fact slightly lighter than Tiffany blue. “Minnie, didn’t you check the color before you selected it?” 

“I dih--” he ran to rinse out his mouth and replace his toothbrush before coming back. “I did. It said it was white, it had a little BL and everything. For blanc. Because its French,” he trailed off. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“The site settings were in English, Jimin. I can’t read French. BL is blue,” you said quietly. 

You picked up the receipt and handed the slip to the confused man.

“It says BL for---for blue.” 

“Yeah,” you said lowly as you began to pull on the delicate underwear. 

“I-I’m sorry. I really thought I picked the right color.” 

“It’s alright, Minnie. It was a simple mistake, I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up in the first place. You were only helping me.” 

“At least it’ll be covered up by your dress, right?”  

“At least there’s that,” you gave him a shaky smile, “Are you done with the bathroom? I’ll just go finish up in there and meet you by the door.” 

“Alright.” He ran a head through his hair nervously, mussing up his bangs slightly.

As he spun his car keys around, Jimin wondered whether the clothing would put a damper on the rest of the night when the sound of your shoes approaching shook him out of his musings.

The ivory of the dress looked against your skin was amazing and the way it molded itself to your figure took his breath away. But he could tell by the way your lips were drawn that you were still upset.

“What’s the matter?” 

“The dress its...see-through. You can see the blue. I’m going to be the laughing stock of the whole company.” Jimin’s eyes dipped down and he saw that the blue stood out through the sheer, satiny material of the dress.  

“How about you call in sick and skip it. There’s no use in being uncomfortable all night for no reason.” 

“I can’t. I volunteered to handle the jewelry auction. And my promotion is practically contingent on my being there. I have to go.” Frustrated tears welled up in your eyes. 

“Well, you look beautiful. I almost don’t regret picking the wrong color,” he said while shrugging off his white suit jacket, “You can use this as a cover. It was making me feel too Vegas anyway.”

The joke fell flat when you simply spread your hands over the skirt one final time and took the jacket. You mumbled a quiet “Thank you.”

Much to his chagrin, the dress did put a damper on the whole evening. More specifically, on your evening. Jimin had a relatively good time. He had 3 free Shirley Temples and a shameful amount of gluten-free mini quiches. But even on the car ride home, your disappointment towards having to wear a jacket over such a beautiful dress all evening was palpable. When you arrived home, both of you seemed to release breaths you didn’t realize you were holding.

Immediately you began to strip out of your attire, exhausted from the gala. Jimin couldn’t help but watch you peel off the dress in your haste to get ready for bed. Because you were wearing a towel earlier, he hadn’t gotten a look at the delicate garments you had on underneath.

“Those are pretty on you,” he ventured quietly, ”The color is good.” 

“Thanks. I can’t wait to go straight to sleep.”

You removed your bra, threw on a sleep shirt, and hiked some sweatpants over the blue underwear. 

He nodded and got ready for bed as well, all the while the image of you in blue burned bright on the backs of his eyelids while he waited for you to finish cleaning your teeth and washing your face.

When Jimin felt the mattress dip with your weight, he waited a bit to gauge your mood. With your back to him and the way you lay close to the far edge of your side, it seemed you were still upset. But you weren’t the type to hold grudges and if you did linger on anything, you tended to internalize it, even if it was someone else’s fault. He reached a tentative hand out pat the curve of your hip.

“Not tonight, Jimin. I’m not in the mood right now.” You shifted to shrug his hand off. 

“I really wasn’t trying anything. How do you know I’m not in the mood either?” 

You turned to look at him over your shoulder and give a small laugh despite yourself. “You’re always in the mood, Minnie.”

“Hey, now,” he shuffled closer, sensing a lightening of the atmosphere, “I’m not always in the mood. You just looked especially good tonight.” 

“How could I have looked good with your stupid jacket on. No one even got to see my dress.”

Your voice was small, but it didn’t quite sound sad and he took a leap of faith by sliding the hand that was resting near your hip to snake underneath your sleep shirt and press to your stomach, pulling you in flush to him. 

“That’s everyone else’s loss. But it doesn’t mean you didn’t look good”. He nuzzled his nose against the curve of your neck and let his hand knead lightly at the skin of your side. “Plus, I feel like we have a little secret since I was the only one who got to see you in that dress.” 

“Well, I didn’t do that on purpose. Better you be the one to see those horrible underwear ruin the dress than my boss.” You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Jimin’s fingers gliding underneath the waistband of your sweats soothe you before you realized what he was doing. “Jimin!”

“What? I’m just touching you. Is that no longer allowed? Am I on probation?” He pulled the sagging collar of your shirt down and peppered soft, wet kisses across the parts of your neck the he could reach. It tickled and you barely held in a laugh. 

“Yes, that’s exactly what this is. You’re on probation.” 

“Okay, so let me probe a little bit,” he said with a mischievous lilt in his voice before yanking your sweatpants down unceremoniously.  

“Park Jimin,” you shouted when the colder air of the bedroom hit your skin, “That’s not even what probation means, you’re so--what is it?” 

You peered at his face only to follow his fixed gaze down to the vibrant blue cloth covering your pelvis.

“Nothing, it’s just pretty,” he said almost to himself, his tone distracted and light. He smoothed a hand over the material, marveling at how smooth the fabric was. “You know my favorite color is blue.” 

“Are you saying you did this on purpose?” You tried to scoot away experimentally but his hold remained firm.  

“I already told you it was an accident. But I’m realizing now it was a happy one.”

“Yeah?” Your own voice sounded dreamy and far away as you basked in all the attention. He only hummed in response before making his move.

Now that you were somewhat pliant, Jimin wedged his other arm under you so he could further envelope you. One hand remained where it was, caressing the silken fabric without doing anything too risky. The other hand, however, quickly made its way over to your breasts. He massaged them gently, at first, until your nipples began to brush more firmly against his palms. He began to tweak them and pull, knowing it was the fastest way to get you squirming. 

You arched your back in response and ended up pushing your hips back against his, accidentally grinding on him. You could feel his hardness through the double layer of the barely-there material of your panties and his boxers. Coupling this with the feeling of his hand traveling under your shirt to continue its ministrations on your nipples and the creeping sensation of his other hand as he fingered the intricate laser-cut designs above your mound. It was almost too much and you felt like you were being bombarded. You tried to sneakily tug the waistband of your sweats up as you distracted him as best you could by rubbing up against his front, but he caught onto your plan. His hand left the confines of your shirt quickly to grip at your throat and force you to lengthen your neck obediently.

“Just let me see, baby. I just wanna see.” His voice was lower than his normal speaking tone, and noticeably rougher. He turned his mouth to suck at the spot on your neck where your skin felt the softest and placed a warm hand over yours.

He guided the hand you had holding the sweatpants down teasingly slow. There was something erotic about the movement that made you whimper quietly. He must have heard the sound because soon he was shushing you softly and finished pulling down the sweatpants as far as he could. You kicked them off the rest of the way before realizing your hands felt awfully empty. You tried to turn to face him, but he wrapped a tight arm around and simply plucked at your nipples a little rougher, nipped at the skin of your shoulder a little more harshly.

“Jimin.” You felt too warm with the heat he was radiating at your back and even with the sleep shirt you had on bunched up at your underarms.

“I know what you need,” he said in a voice that pretended to be thoughtful and selfless.

His free hand finally passed your mound to press between the apex of your thighs. The angle was a bit awkward with his arm winding around your torso, but with coordination he was able to circle his fingertips around your clit. At this point, you still had too much lucidity and were worried that he would ruin the expensive underwear and stain it irrevocably with your arousal. 

You started to protest but he seemed to read your mind and give your throat a warning squeeze with his free hand. With the other, he shifted to swipe a few fingers near your clothed entrance. He made a pleased sound when he brought his hand back up and the tips of his fingers caught the low lamp light and glistened.

“Open.” He held his fingers up before your lips, his grip on your neck loosening so you could move to suck them into your mouth.

You made sure to graze his fingertips with kitten licks before popping them out your mouth when you knew they were clean. Jimin nudged at your cheek with a slightly damp hand until you turned enough for him to kiss you, wanting to chase whatever was left of your taste. He groaned at the feeling of you licking into his mouth and you felt him throb where his groin was pressed against your ass. You kissed slowly for a long moment, all the while his other hand continued to rub figure eights around your clit before circling back down to the now sopping material covering your entrance.  

The onslaught of sensation was enough to have you gasping and breaking the kiss. You let out a long, broken moan as he hooked his fingers underneath the material to feel the wetness without a barrier, although it left little to the imagination at this point.

“I wanna be inside you badly right now,” he mumbled shakily. The tremors in his voice sent another wave of excitement through you. You loved when he got overwhelmed. 

“Please, oh my god. I need it.”

You breathed heavily out your nose to keep quiet while he shoved his boxers off. He pressed against you with renewed vigor and you both groaned at the feeling of his overheated skin pressing against yours. You moved to pull your panties off but he stopped you. 

“Keep them on. I want you to slide them to the side and hold them like that while I fuck you.” 

“How do you want it,” you asked as you stretched your hand out to reach for the condoms that lived in a bowl under the bed. You nearly threw the condom in his face when you finally grasped at a foil packet. He rolled it on and inspected it briefly before grabbing at the meat of your thigh to lift your leg and bring it to rest over one of his own.

“Like this. On your side, from the back. I want to be able to see you in these panties.”

Pressing a hand over your lower belly, he pulled you flush against him once more to line up his swollen head with your entrance. He bumped against you a few times to coat himself with your slickness. At the feel of the initial stretch you grit your teeth.

“You feel so good,” you sputtered when he finally bottomed out. His girth was one of the things you gave thanks for most. You felt perfectly full and the slick smoothness of his entry had your head spinning. He pressed his forehead to your shoulder and began to rock into you, shallowly at first. 

“So do you. God,” he let out a whine when you clenched around him as he went deeper, “You’re so fucking wet.” 

He shifted to plant a foot on the bed for leverage and so he could maneuver his hand back in between your now more open thighs. His fingertips bumped yours where they pulled the crotch of the panties up and to the side. You felt him grab your hand and move it slightly higher and more inward. It became clear what his motives were when the fabric caught on your clit with the force of every thrust. You grip on the fabric tightened as your back bowed, pressing yourself more firmly against him. Jimin moaned at the fresh wave of arousal you coated him with.

“Jimin,” your voice was tight with need and nearly drowned out but the slick sounds his thrusts made.  

“Harder?” 

“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling your orgasm start to build.

He cursed when you tightened up on him once more and rewarded you with a sharp smack to the globe of your ass. He began to fuck you in earnest.

“Arch your back, baby” he grunted.

But before you could blink through the fog of your impending orgasm to comply, he brought his free hand up to cup your throat and pull you back how he wanted you. He squeezed a little for good measure and you felt an almost electric shock in your groin. You let go of the underwear in favor of tending to your clit with your own fingers at the same moment that he began to truly plow into you. Your toes started to curl and you marveled through your hazy consciousness at how your orgasms started the same way. 

It started tonight, like it always did--with a pin-prick of pleasure that had you squirming. Then it turned into white hot waves building from the soles of your feet upwards. As the feeling reached your belly, the pleasure became molten and pulled every muscle in your body taut. You could feel your limbs shaking but you were too far gone to signal to Jimin that you were about to come, your breath leaving your mouth in increasingly small choked gasps. The pressure that had been building steadily in your abdomen snapped and you fell off your precipice screaming.

Watching you fall apart was always one of Jimin’s favorite pass-times. As you trembled before him, he tried his best to keep his eyes open so he could see you. But the way your walls gripped him tore his attention away. He squeezed his eyes shut and rutted up into you to chase his own high. It rippled through him faster than he was expecting, forcing him to tighten his grip on you to ground himself.

You calmed down first and listened to the sounds of his labored breaths in your ear. Luckily, you were on your side, so you didn’t have to worry about him collapsing on top of you or having to balance from on top of him to your side of the bed. Your back felt too sweaty though and you frowned at the thought of getting up again to take another shower before being able to sleep. When he eventually got out of bed to dispose of the condom and start the shower you grimaced at the feeling of cooling perspiration and tugged off your sleep shirt in hopes of dabbing at the moisture.

“You coming,” Jimin asked when he came to lean on the doorframe of the bathroom. 

You nodded and got up carefully, not wanting to overestimate the leftover strength in your knees and fall. You discarded your panties and he watched you hobble past him to the toilet with a smug expression.

“I bet you’re not still upset about the underwear now,” he smirked at you while sliding open the door to the shower and stepping in. 

“I bet you were never really sorry about buying my underwear late,” you countered over the sound of the water. You flushed the toilet and smiled softly to yourself while your washed your hands and he screamed at the momentary change in water temperature.

He stuck his head out of the door as he waited for the warm water to return. “How did you know I bought it late?” 

“You bought them on my account. I got the order confirmation and the email, it just got buried because I was swamped with work. But I saw while I was checking my phone in line for the women’s room at the gala.” 

He had enough sense to give you smile that was 40% apology and 60% cheekiness.

“These are nicer than ivory,” he said with an exaggerated snobby accent. 

“How? Because you got to play the white knight and lend me your suit jacket?” 

“No,” Jimin trailed off. He stuck a hand out to pull you into the shower with him. “They’re nicer because they’re the underwear I fucked you in.” 

“How charming. You know, the ivory could have been that pair too.” 

“I don’t know. Nothing gets me in the mood faster than a nice blue. Why do you think its my favorite color?” 

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Maybe so,” he stepped aside to let you have a turn with the water.

“Wash my hair? Its the least you can do.” 

When you both finished showering, you could tell that it was way past your bedtime but you had to wait until Jimin changed the sheets. You were so tired you would have gladly slept on them, but he had a thing about post-sex sheets.

You blotted the ends of your hair with an old t-shirt and watched him make the bed with a neatness you’d only seen in hospitals. A spot of blue caught your attention and you realized you left your panties on the floor. You pinched them by the corner daintily and moved to put the garment in his laundry basket.

“Wait,” he said and plucked the panties out of your hands before shoving them in the back pocket of his sweats. 

“What are you gonna do with those?” 

“I don’t know. Save them for a rainy day, probably.” He gave you a wink before returning to fluff the pillows one last time.

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marcusforst · 4 years

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Stories from my mother, April 2015: Week 1

Hello Marcus,

I will always be there for you and you will always be part of me. I don’t understand why this is so hard for me. Why is it so painful to go back to the day that the nightmare began…

I remember you sent us a text on Monday morning that you were having trouble breathing. Just a few weeks before you had been home a week for Spring Break, you had performed with the Philadelphia Youth Orchestra the Saturday that began Spring Break, and we put your stuff in my car, and went to your rehearsal. I waited in the lobby and volunteered before the performance helping hand out tickets to groups.

I had just been with you days before that text, with Bert McCutchen and Abby Gray and we went to a the Philadelphia Orchestra concert on Saturday night. We had walked all around trying to find a restaurant that had a reservation open before the concert. But we had been late getting to Philadelphia and every restaurant was full. We finally ate at Qdoba or Chipotle on Walnut street. I remember you coughed once really hard while we were eating dinner, but otherwise you seemed to be so healthy, so strong, so assured, so alive.

On Monday after getting your text about having trouble breathing, I called you and we talked about whether you had your inhalers, if they were expired, whether you were using them and taking your vitamins. I remember calling to get a new albuterol prescription and calling to get an appointment with Dr. Beausoleil. You didn’t want to miss class, so the earliest appointment that fit your schedule would be Thursday. I was thinking I would drive up on Thursday and take you to the appointment.

Then again on Tuesday, you couldn’t sleep, and had to sit up to breathe. I remember we talked about going to the Temple health center. Then on Wednesday, you called me and said that after having lunch with your friends at Johnson and Hardwick cafeteria, you realized that you couldn’t walk and talk and breathe at the same time. Most of your friends were sick too, but weren’t going to the health center. You were going to be smarter and so you went directly to the health center from lunch. After you went to the health center you called me and said that your vital signs were good but something didn’t sound right, so they wanted you to go to the hospital for a chest x-ray. I remember you said maybe your cold had gone straight to pneumonia. We talked about it and you said the Temple Police would give you a ride to the hospital. Both Mike and I had gone to Temple Hospital at some point while we were students. I remember we thought, they will take your X-ray, give you a Zpack of steroids, and a nebulizer treatment and that will help you kick this so that you would be better in time for finals.

I wish I had immediately left to meet you and wait with you in the ER at Temple hospital. Instead I met Margo to go for a walk at the West Grove Park, and then met Karl and we went to the middle school. I walked up to meet Carolann and Leslie to watch the Nick and Spencer play a baseball game. Karl had to leave after a while to go to basketball practice at the middle school. While I was watching the game I got another text from you to the family group text. “I am going to be here for awhile. There is a big tumor on my heart and I am being admitted.” I remember reading it, and then reading it out loud, and then standing up and struggling to fold up my chair to leave. Leslie and Carolann were both shocked too, and a baseball Dad came over and helped me get my chair back in its bag. Carolann offered to drive me home, but I said no, Karl and I had our car. I hurried down to the middle school gym and couldn’t get the doors open. I texted Ikeem, Karl’s coach,who came and opened the door. I told him that I needed to go to Philadelphia to Marcus. Karl came over and was mad and told me to leave, and refused to talk with me, rushing back into the practice. I talked with Ikeem and asked him to have someone give Karl a ride home. I drove home. I guess all this took me 30 minutes, because when I got home, almost immediately Mike got home from work in Wilmington too.

I was concerned that I pack gluten free food for me and Marcus. I was remembering the hospital in Germany where we stayed when Marcus had an allergic reaction to candy at Tante Wilma’s, when the people in the hospital served Marcus gluten.

I packed a small yellow backpack with a change of clothes and my necessaries for myself, thinking I would stay overnight.

On the way to the hospital we hit a pothole on Interstate 95. When we parked the car, Mike was concerned about the tire. It had already started to form a bubble. We went into the hospital and were shown the room where Marcus was. There he was, sitting in a hospital bed, in a hospital gown, reading his Physics text book. He still looked good, he wasn’t coughing, but he was hooked up to an IV and I was still trying to understand how this tumor could be somehow inside him. He didn’t have any obvious strange bulges. I could still hug him. It was so hard to understand. We tried to eat but we weren’t hungry. Mike went down to the cafeteria for something.

At regular intervals a nurse would come in and take Marcus’ vital signs. The Doctor came in and talked to us, showing us a scan and explaining that on the one side you could see the white that was the air in the lungs, but on the other side it was completely dark, which meant there was no air in that lung. He went up and down showing how the dark part grew and took up part of the white part on the other side too. He said this was the tumor. He was always surrounded by several residents, students who seemed just about Marcus’ age. They took numerous blood tests and had him collect his pee in a bottle. They were testing everything. They asked us all about Marcus’ health history. Several different people asked Marcus if he had ever had night sweats which he didn’t. They kept feeling under his arms in his groin, up and down his neck, pressing his skin, looking at his arms and legs, his fingers, his toes. I felt afraid, not knowing what they were looking for. Marcus still didn’t have a fever.

They wheeled Marcus out for another test, just as another group of doctors came to the room. We followed the stretcher, walking along with Marcus, waiting outside while he went into another testing exam room without us. The Doctor was really nice and calm and told us not to start google searching. He said that tomorrow they would do a biopsy and there was no use scaring ourselves with what ifs. We listened and believed and I didn’t do any google searches.

That evening Marcus’ friend Lexi came, having taken the subway from Main campus.

The nurses had set up a little cot for me along the wall outside the bathroom and at the first corner of the end of his hospital bed. Lexi decided to stay and climbed up into his bed with him. Lexi was able to be close to Marcus. It was hard because I wanted to be right there also.

I just wanted to cry but Mike and Marcus both told me that no crying was allowed. If I was going to cry I would have to leave. Eventually Mike had to leave to drive home. Lexi and I stayed. That night Marcus, Lexi and I all silently cried as we tried to sleep. We didn’t know yet what, but something was desperately wrong.

The next day, Lexi left to go to class. Marcus had to prep for more testing. They were going to drain the lung, take a biopsy of the big tumor on the heart. Mike came back with Karl. I remember them arriving while he was still in the procedure but they were there when he came out. When Marcus first emerged, I remember him telling me that he had talked with Opa during the procedure.

Later Marcus also had a bone marrow biopsy. When he came out of the procedure and was still under anesthesia he again said that he had talked with Opa. He also said that the nurses were tawas with him and told him he could do it. Opa told him he had a bone marrow biopsy too and he knew he could do it.

In the evenings a few of Marcus’ friends visited. Lexi came again and stayed. She brought more notebooks and books from Marcus’ dorm room. I remember Steph offering to wash Marcus’ laundry. I think Ashley, Emily and Natalie brought Marcus a gift. Someone gave him a stuffed animal like thing that resembled a chick or a duckling. We talked about whether it was a chick or a duck with everyone who visited.

On the Saturday, Marcus still had another test. I think on Saturday, Julie McLaughlin came with Brendon and another neighbor that was not really close to Marcus. I think Margie and William and Henry stopped by on Saturday too. At this point, Marcus started becoming weary of the visitors and having to tell them the same story - No he didn’t really feel that sick before; no he didn’t know when it started. The nurses would only let a few visitors in his room at a time. Marcus and Lexi talked about having Lexi try to coordinate with the friends so that not everyone came at once. We began using the stuffed chick / duck question as a safe word to ask Marcus if he needed the visitor to leave or if he needed to rest.

I wanted to help Marcus, but there was little I could do. He asked me to massage his back. In the morning I would help Marcus clean himself with a washcloth sponge bath. Sometime after the first night, Marcus developed night sweats and we would change his wet sheets at night, a couple of times during the night. We tried different things, putting a blanket under the sheet, sleeping on top of several sheets and then removing one at a time as it got sweated through. Often it seemed we had just fallen asleep when the nurse would come in and wake him to take his blood at 5 am. I remember Marcus asking why did they have to take his blood at 5am? They took blood several times a day, why couldn’t they take blood at 7 instead? But they told us they took the blood at 5 because then the doctors and residents started coming around at 7 and they needed the results before they came in.

I seem to remember that on Easter Sunday Marcus had another MRI, this time of the lower abdomen. I waited for him in a waiting room and Jane McCann and her Mom met me there and we talked while we waited for him to come out. We walked together following his stretcher and visited awhile in his room.

Every day Mike came back and on the weekend Karl came again.

March Madness basketball was happening during this weekend. I remember Mike bringing a monitor and some speakers and streaming the game from his laptop or something like that. Marcus’ friend Aaron watched the final game with us.

Marcus had so many friends and I didn’t remember their names. Marcus and Lexi made me a PowerPoint with pictures of his friends and their names so that I could learn their names. I remember looking at that PowerPoint repeatedly, as it was something I could do and learn, even though I couldn’t do anything to help Marcus’s get better.

Then finally on Easter Monday the team of blood doctors and Marcus’ main doctor came in together to talk to us. They had a diagnosis - T-cell Lymphoblastic Lymphoma. It was a rare and very aggressive cancer. They said Marcus would be hospitalized for 6 months for intense chemotherapy. They recommended that he go to Temple Fox Chase for treatment at Jeanes Hospital, where one of the best Doctors in Lymphoma was practicing. Within an hour they had prepared an ambulance and Marcus and I went in the ambulance and Mike took Lexi, Alex and Aaron and all the stuff that had accumulated in the hospital along with in the jalopy.

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eggjordie · 8 years

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I suffer from ???

Recently I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and CFS. I find that such a surreal thing to say now, considering in those 8 words is almost 2-3 years of the hardest period of my life, and now its over. Sort of. Kind of. Actually, not really, but that's what people think when I tell them. In 2015 I watched the entire series of House M.D (that’s 8 seasons, 177 episodes in case you were wondering. Here, normally, I would make a joke about not having a life but it was, in fact, my life for a good few months). Generally a person gets sick, doctors don’t know what it is - sometimes they shrug it off, tell the patient and their family its ‘nothing’ - House and his team somehow notice this special case, they go through a series of trial and error while the patient is suffering or perhaps nearing death and then they usually solve the riddle. This is the process many medical shows follow. Sometimes they recognize that the patient may never get well again, despite diagnoses, and its kind of sad and stuff. But life resumes and then it’s time to play the next episode.

This gave me a false hope for my health story. Maybe I’m one of the few who have dealt with the same, but I’d like to share my experience of the grey area of the medical world and the suffering that so many with chronic, invisible illnesses experience. Because it sucks. It really, truly sucks. Spoiler alert! You don't get your own special diagnostics team and noo one tells you of the ‘limbo’ period where you’re floating through tests, specialists and appointments while people around you are trying to figure out what you have. I, albeit childishly, thought life would stop while this all went on. But it didn’t. I still had the worries of rent and bills while I was being tested for a brain tumor. There was still those thoughts every person in their 20′s go through - what will I do, where will I go, what will I achieve - during a short synacthen test and seeing an Endocrinologist. I could go on, but I’ll save you my entire medical history. The fact is, life continues, even when its crumbling around you.

I thought I was dying. It sounds melodramatic, believe me I’m well aware, but I truly did. Yet it was like no one believed me, as if I was in one of those shitty dreams where you’re trying to scream and cry but you cant and people are laughing at you, but it wasn’t a dream. This was where I entered what I call the Judgement Era of invisible illnesses, and it’s an era that has not yet ended. Because suddenly general practitioners were getting bored of my case, my doctor who had studied harder than I could ever imagine to be a medical professional, whom we are told when we are children are trusted to help us when we are unwell, couldn’t figure out what I had. So she started reverting to the usual; you’re overweight, you’re lazy, you’ve been working too hard, you just need to wait a few months its just a - a um, thing, but you’ll be fine, here’s a name to a yoga place it might help, have a nice day. She sent me for tests less and less until eventually it got to The Question. I capitalize that for a reason;

“How have you been feeling lately?”

Now, don’t get me wrong. Mental illnesses are a serious issue and I’m happy that there's more attention surrounding it, but in my case where I certainly did not have a mental illness as a cause for my health issues this Question will forever be the bane of my existence. Because depression is suddenly the safe diagnoses and it angers me, not just for my case, but for people who actually suffer with it. It belittles their suffering. It damages the progress mental illness awareness has made in the past few years. By diagnosing people without depression with depression you are undermining a very serious illness. But, despite my physical symptoms (correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m fairly certain depression doesn’t cause extreme, unexplained pain) this was what I apparently had. I saw quite a lot of doctors and they all reverted to the same thing. Depression.

Ive always been a very positive person, even through all of the shit Ive had to go through in the past few years. People who know me will tell you, I’m not sick because I’m depressed, I am depressed because I am sick. How have I been feeling lately? Is that a joke? How do you think I’d be feeling after all this time. After being told I have a brain tumor, to cancer, to addisons disease, to cushings syndrome, to heart disease and now being told I’m just overweight, lazy and depressed? Pretty damn shit, if I do say so myself. But I couldn't say that, because any inkling that I might be a little bit sad they would refer me to a counselor, clap their hands and say job well done. I knew. I wasn’t stupid.

After so long of dealing with this of course I had done my own research. Dr. Google might be awful for many reasons and I don't condone self diagnosing at all, but sometimes you just have to trust yourself. Because during this period of uncertainty in my life - I had just given up my career for my health, I didn’t know whether I was truly dying or not and I still had a life out of my bed that I needed to try to live - I was being questioned by family and friends. What did I have? Well, I’m not sure. What was the new prognosis that month? When would I get help? I was playing 20 questions with everyone, the same questions I was asking myself. All I could say was ‘I suffer from ???’.

It’s disheartening to say the least. This limbo period where you cant trust doctors or just anyone to believe what you’re pleading so you begin to doubt yourself. And that, in my personal experience, leaves you in a very dark place.

I got the usual advice from friends and family. Try yoga, go gluten free or vegan, have you tried this? Has your doctor tested you for that? What if it’s this? I know they mean well, and I truly did try everything they suggested. People wanted to ‘fix’ me, and that’s okay, but I wasn’t getting fixed. I wasn’t getting better, only worse, and when you cant help someone you care about you get frustrated. Friends started to question whether I really was sick. Well, you don’t look sick today! That’s good, they would say, to which I could only laugh awkwardly and change the subject. I know I didn’t look sick. I’m a damn good makeup artist and my invisible illness is damn good at being invisible, but of course I couldn’t say that.

I thought after finding a doctor who believed me and promised to help would change all of this. I can tell you in the weeks that have followed my diagnoses little has changed. I’m still being judged as an overweight lazy millennial; just this morning I got back from a disability job provider appointment crying my eyes out and making a right fool of myself because my provider had concluded in her mind that I was exactly that. I’m not ashamed to say that it still upsets me. Even after finally having proof of my disability I will probably have to deal with this for the rest of my life but that doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t make it any less shit.

My medical story isn’t over. My episode hasn’t ended now I have a diagnoses. It’s still going. Ive had to accept that things don’t change overnight and it’s likely that many of the judgements that I face daily will never change until these illnesses gain more awareness. But now I can say without a doubt that I suffer from Fibromyalgia and CFS, and not just ???

In the end that it makes it a little bit easier.

#invisible illness #chronic illness #fibromyalgia #chronic fatigue #depression #disability #im sorry for this post lmao i just needed to write it down #i could keep going but its long enough #its just so hard it really is #this morning was so upsetting #but its ok bc i have proof u dingo turd #how dare she #long post

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armyhealth9-blog · 5 years

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Episode 405 - Robb and Nicki Q&A #9

We're back with Q&A #9 with Robb and Nicki.

Remember to submit your own questions for Robb and Nicki to answer on a future show here: https://robbwolf.com/contact/submit-a-question-for-the-podcast/

Show Notes:

1. [2:06] Kidney Stones

Krisztian says: I've been mostly Paleo for about 5 years now based on one of your piror books. Overall, it has worked well for me, with one exception. I started to develop kidney stones on a regular basis. I finally had them analyzed and they turned out to be calcium oxalate stones. Upon reading up on this condition, it stems from a high amount of oxalate in the diet. Unfortunatley, most of the foods I liked on Paleo happen to be super high in oxalate... spinach, nuts, seeds, dark chocolate, sweet potatoes. The other wammy here is that I was initially avoiding dairy on Paleo which turns out to be worse for stones because one way to counteract high oxalate intake is to match it with high calcium to avoid stone formation. I've since gone back to eating plenty of cheese and high fat dairy in my diet.

I'm curious if this is a common issue that you've seen and I'm wondering if this is something that might be helped by going to a keto diet.

2. [5:33] Sugar addiction Kathryn says: Hey Robb, I am really hoping you can give me some insight into why I can't seem to fully recover from sugar addiction. I have had a sweet tooth my whole life, but in recent years I have learned that I have a true addiction to sugar. In the last four years or so, I have studied a lot of nutrition, functional medicine and ancestral health perspectives and gone on a strict paleo diet for months at a time. In almost every way, a clean diet of whole foods makes me feel amazing (better sleep, clearer skin, joints and movement feels better, etc.), except, I become very depressed. It's not a mopey, weepy kind of depressed, it's literally a depression of all feeling, like I feel very little at all. But I do sometimes feel really, really irritable, or sometimes bouts of rage that don’t match the situations they arise in. But most of the time, I just feel blah. I thought this would go away after a couple of weeks or even a month or two of eating clean, but it didn't. In happy or exciting moments, it was like I just couldn't feel those emotions fully. I also noticed that I didn't crack jokes like I usually do or feel like being social. All my feelings were dulled. Even sad ones. And when I did fall off the diet, and eat sugar, I immediately felt cheerful again. To me, it seems that the years of sugar abuse have altered my brain enough that without sugar, I can't feel normal emotions anymore. So my question is concerning healing my brain. Is it possible to reverse these effects? The longest I have gone on a strict paleo diet is three months. I admit it was hard to keep going when I just didn't see myself ever feeling happy again. If it's possible to heal my brain and increase its capacity for proper dopamine signaling again, are there certain therapies or supplements that can precipitate and accelerate that healing? Perhaps I am ignorant of some other factor or mechanism at work here. I would be grateful for any insight or help you can give. Thanks for the incredible work you do to bring to light the truth about human health and nutrition.

Notes:

Carb 22: https://carbsyndrome.com/nutraceuticals-new/

STEM Talk Episode 69 (David LeMay): https://www.ihmc.us/stemtalk/episode-69/

3. [11:32] Metabolic Flexibility and Weight Loss/Maintenance Julia says: Robb and Nicki, I am very interested in the concept of metabolic flexibility and eagerly waiting to hear your upcoming lecture on this topic. Intuitively it makes sense that given variation in season and climate that humans would have relied on a menu of macronutrient combinations. My question is: how can developing metabolic flexibility be used as tool for weight loss/maintenance? I have been about 90% ketogenic for the past 28 months; the other 10% would be high carb meals which I have allowed as a metabolically flexible person. I can swing in and out of ketosis with ease; however, I have noticed that if I go through periods of higher carb, it does result in weight gain which is tough to lose even when reentering ketosis. I do crossfit almost daily and practice the 18:6 IF schedule, and I don't notice either of those things affecting my performance. Thanks!

4. [16:31] Low afternoon energy

Laura says: Hi Robb and Nicki, Thank you both for all you do! I've been a huge fan since 2010 and admire your relentless pursuit of the truth when it comes to health and nutrition.

My question is about my extremely low energy in the early afternoons. I know it is a common complaint, but I feel like I've done everything I can to fix the common mistakes that lead to the afternoon slump, and I also feel like my exhaustion is too extreme to be normal for my age and health status.

I'm 32 years old, I eat low carbish (75-100g most days), have toyed with keto, eat mostly paleo with the addition of some dairy and occasional non gluten grains. I do crossfit 3x/week and spend most of my time chasing my 2 year old around. My sleep is good most of the time, and I do not have any major life stressors that effect me currently. No diagnosed health conditions, no rx meds.

I had bloodwork done recently, and my doctor was very impressed with the results, especially my blood lipids. A1c was 4.8, C-reactive protein 0.8, no thyroid antibodies present. Fasting blood sugar 78. The only things that were slightly out of range were homocysteine (slightly low at 4.6), Uric acid low at 2.4, serum iron slightly high at 148, and my free T3 was a little low at 2.5. Another Doctor years ago prescribed me naturethroid but I never took it.

Ive tried changing my diet in every way imaginable to try to combat a possible hypoglycemic or food sensitivity related slump after lunch. I've eliminated various foods that people can be sensitive to,and ive even tried more carbs in the morning, but that leads to blood sugar imbalance and cravings all day. As a result, my breakfasts and lunches would fall under the keto umbrella, as I feel better when I eat carbs later in the day.

The only thing that seems to slightly help is not eating at all, but I just get so hungry! My activity level is fairly high and I don't feel like I'm a great candidate for intermittent fasting at this point.

My mom, who has had MS for about 30 years, does not eat all day and only eats dinner because she's says eating makes her tired. I just can't handle not eating at all, and I do feel fatigued and hypoglycemic if I try to skip meals.

Thanks for reading and for all you do!!

5. [23:08] Carb test and ketosis

Carl says: Hey Robb,

I read Wired to Eat while I was pretty deep into a ketotic cycle, so I didn't immediately get to the 7-day carb test. Years of self-experimentation have led me to a relatively low carb (<50g/day) Paleo diet with an occasional 48 hour fast, an occasional ketotic cycle, and a very occasional carb re-feed. Genetic testing revealed some SNPs that predispose me to insulin resistance, and others that positively affect my fat metabolism, reinforcing the fact that I look, feel, and perform better eating in this fashion. I do enjoy my occasional carb binges, so I'd like to perform the carb test in order to whittle my food selections down to those least damaging to my metabolism; but I'm concerned that my postprandial blood glucose readings will be skewed upward because I don't regularly eat more than ten or fifteen grams of effective carbs at a time. Should I bring my daily and per-meal carb intake up for a certain period of time before starting the carb test, or is a 50 gram bolus of carbs small enough to give me a true measure of glucose tolerance for the purpose of food selection? Thanks in advance.

6. [27:30] Creativity and Writing Process

Peter says: Robb,

I hope all is well. I'm a big fan of the Podcast and excited about the Q & A return. I have a two-parter both within the same general idea.

FIRSTLY: I'm a writer and I am alway curious about how others approach the creative process. I was curious if you could elaborate on how you approach writing and creativity in regards to balancing an active lifestyle? And how a typical day when writing might look.

For example -- Do you do things like meditate? What time of the day do you write? Where do you write? If you write in the morning how do you reconcile with hanging outside first thing in the morning to get some sun? If you do Jujutsu around noon and roll for 2 hours how do you write around it? You've mentioned eating big meals in the morning, if you're in a heavy writing period, is this a habit you stick with? Oh by the way, you have a wife and kids... how do you balance it all?

Do you still do caffeine? Do you force yourself to take breaks during writing? How do you avoid sitting for 5/6 hours straight?

Sorry for all the questions, I've just been thinking about this a lot lately as I enter into a career pursuing my passion as a writer while trying to balance and prioritize my health. As I am sure you can attest, writing can be all consuming if you let it and setting boundaries is vital -- though difficult, especially if you're in "the zone." So I'd love to hear your thoughts.

[33:18] SECONDLY: I'd love to get your thoughts on the mechanisms at play when writing or doing anything else that requires intense mental focus in regards to willpower. Correct me if I am wrong, but it feels like for me, many aspects of writing and maintaining a healthy lifestyle (choosing healthy food over shitty stuff, hitting the gym, walking, etc.) can drain from the same willpower tank (if not just psychologically, and physically -- physiologically as well). This isn't to say that both can't exist -- rather does one need to be given priority based on ordering of events throughout the day?

For example, I feel my creativity comes to me first thing in the morning. If I were to wake up and hit a Metcon first thing, I feel my creativity gets depleted from the shared willpower tank. I feel this to be true with little things that chip away at my early morning start time as well. For example, taking the time to make a big healthy breakfast, sitting in the sun, even a short walk, all delay me tapping into when I feel I am creatively primed -- but is it worth the sacrifice of my health?

I was curious if you have any thoughts on when or how you prioritize creativity. Or maybe this is all just a bunch of bullshit like Robert Rodriguez says -- and our creativity is totally out of our control.

Anyways, love the show and everything you do. If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.

Regards, Peter

Source: http://robbwolf.libsyn.com/episode-405-robb-and-nicki-qa-9

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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