theworldofdale

Archive for the ‘Health and Wellness’ Category

do a body good

In Health and Wellness, Relationships, Science on January 23, 2011 at 9:32 pm

I think I know my body pretty well. I don’t always treat it that well- the Dale family historically abuse our bodies. We smoke or drink or tan or eat unhealthy food or don’t exercise or sometimes all of those in a single day. But there’s no cancer in my bloodline, and we look young for our age and live a long time. We are addicted to things and pretty crazy and usually have bad knees, but overall, not a bad ROI.

I know I have some male readers (honestly, it still astounds me that I have readers at all), but bear with me here. I’m going to be quite frank about what happens to a lady’s body, but you’re all big boys and you can handle it.

I don’t take birth control. I stopped when I didn’t have health insurance, because there was no reason to spend money on non-essentials. I still practice safe sex (and you should too, because having STDs is such a mood-killer). But I realized that I kind of liked not being on the Pill.

Then a friend had a stroke- which her doctors attributed mainly to long-term use of the Pill.  I also read about this study, where researchers found that the Pill can skew to which kind of mate you are attracted. Basically, without the Pill, you naturally seek out someone who is going to be complementary to you in genetics. You’re going to produce viable young. When you are on the Pill, you find yourself attracted to someone with similar genetics. And how are you supposed to resist infection with that?

Woman takes the Pill. She marries a guy with a similar genetic makeup (like marrying a cousin, basically). They decide to have a kid, and the woman stops taking the Pill. And all of a sudden, her husband smells different. Stinky. And then, she’s thinking… this was a mistake. I smelled the wrong man.

I know my body now. I know that when I’m ovulating, I’m glowing and eating healthy and attracting all sorts of male attention because they can sense some baby-making possibilities. Then I hit PMS, and my body hates me for passing up an opportunity to use that egg, so I eat pizza and take naps and become very sensitive to people being so crass as to not read my mind and do my bidding.

I’m not opposed to birth control. I just feel like I do better by my body (which, to be honest, is still not very good) when I’m in tune with what these hormones are trying to tell me.

By the way, they’re telling me: “Hey! We’re trying to make a baby in here! What the fuck?!”

take two

In Communication, Health and Wellness, Home, Relationships on January 6, 2011 at 8:18 am

If you read this, you might also read my Twitter.  If you read my twitter, you know that one of my favorite topics is poop.  Not just in the realm of humor but in a philosophical sense as well.  I have favorite poops (floaty ones) and least favorite poops (sticky ones).  As Dr. Oz enjoys pointing out, poop is an excellent indicator of your health.  I think poop is hilarious and will bring it up as a topic of conversation in all sorts of mixed company.

There’s a good reason I feel comfortable discussing poop in mixed company.  Because those are exactly the folks who poop.  That is where the philosophy comes in.

One million years ago, I taught teaching public speaking at a few of the local universities.  All three required every student to take public speaking, regardless of major.  Public speaking is often reported as the number one fear, even over death.  Basically, if I was teaching death class, I’d have more comfortable students.  I understood- when I took public speaking as an undergrad, I had an asthma attack during a speech and they found me lying on the bathroom floor.

As a result, I could relate to their fear.  There were a couple of strategies I employed for making students more comfortable, and one of them involves poop.  People often recommend to picture your audience naked when giving a speech.  While I guess that makes sense, I would be distracted, interested, and repulsed if that was the case.  I recommended my students picture their audience pooping.

Everyone poops, and it could be the most vulnerable position.  Your pants are around your ankles.  You can’t really go anywhere.  And you are stinking the joint up.  It’s the great equalizer, because no matter your job, your income, your looks, your popularity… all y’all poop.  Whenever I have the chance of being intimidated, I picture the person taking a big ol’ dump.  And it humanizes them.  No one is scary when they are pooping.

The reason poop jokes are funny is because humor relies on shared experience.  You have to be able to relate to find it funny.  And everyone knows poop.  You might not be black.  You might not be gay.  You might not be a blonde.  You might not have a penis.  But you poop.  So you get it.

Some people find poop to be embarrassing.  Even I have been known to make a man I’m dating not just leave the apartment but the building if I need some freedom to let loose, so to speak.  I’m not saying you have to (or should) talk about it as much as I do.  But if you are looking to feel more comfortable, just remind yourself: everybody poops.

don’t hate the player; hate the game

In Communication, Entertainment and Nightlife, Food and Spirits, Health and Wellness, Relationships, Technology on December 2, 2010 at 12:06 am

Men get a lot of flack for treating women like objects.  Which they do.  But women treat men like objects too.  Just not a sexual object.  Honestly, we have to keep our minds OFF of you if we want to have sex.  You’re a hairy ape, okay?  But I digress.

Women treat men more like game pieces.  To women, every man is just a game of Jenga, where we push and pull and see what comes loose until you’re completely destroyed.

Louis CK first brought this to my attention where he pointed out that men are always destroying things.  Whether it’s a toddler knocking over someone’s Legos or grown men at war, men think anything less than annihilation is acceptable.

Women, while still set on creating havoc, have a different method and target.  Women, and I am including myself in this statement, crush men’s souls by nature.  As prone as a man is to spread his seed amongst the womenfolk, women are set to trap one of those men and make him ours.  We have to make you fall in love with us on the off chance we need protection.  You are our bodyguards, and we are Britney Spears.  You are the Secret Service, and we are the president.  Woman = baby-maker, man = guard dog.  It’s elemental, but I don’t think men or women realize it.

I don’t think it’s out of malice that women are destroying men’s souls.  Just like men aren’t thinking of women as sexual objects not because they don’t have respect for them, but because sex is their favorite thing.  Women need to be loved, and if you can’t do it on your own, we’ll help you.

I’m not saying women are bad for destroying souls or men are bad for wanting to fuck everything.  But I don’t get so worked up about relationships when I remind myself of this fact.

thanks

In Communication, Entertainment and Nightlife, Food and Spirits, Health and Wellness, Home, Relationships, Work on November 24, 2010 at 7:38 pm

It’s Thanksgiving eve, and instead of celebrating the biggest party night of the year, I’m going to stay home and watch Chappelle’s Show.  I have a lot to be thankful for this year.  Let’s do a rundown.

I have health insurance.  I have already been to four doctors, and there are more lined up.

I have the most amazing friends in the world.  I am in awe of how truly smart, funny, kind, and beautiful the people are who let me hang around them.  I have a best friend who is like a sister to me.  I have friends who have helped me move multiple times in the past 10 years.  I have friends across the entire spectrum of age, beliefs, and backgrounds.  Different colors, different genders, different orientations, but they all manage to put up with me.

I have a dog.  She teaches me patience as well as being so cute it makes me kind of wince.

My parents are people that I would feel lucky to know, much less be their child.  I have more fun hanging out with them than just about anyone.  If you wonder where my confidence comes from, it’s from having parents who love me unconditionally and have never let me believe there was anything I couldn’t do.

Most of all, I’m thankful for faith.  I’m not going to get into a lot of religious stuff here, because my beliefs are mine and not your concern and vice versa.  But I’m really glad that I have faith, because that’s where the peace is.  Shit hits the fan on a regular basis.  My life has plenty of downers, trust me.  I could throw myself a little pity party and actually get people to show up out of sympathy.  There’s no sense in that, though.  I’d rather throw a birthday party and get people to show up out of desire for slap bracelets.

One of my credos is a morbid little ditty I saw at a deli in my neighborhood.  It said, “I don’t know how it will all turn out.  All I know is: I’ll end up dead in the end.  So what could go wrong?”  It’s just another way of saying life is short.  Like Oscar Wilde said, life is too important to be taken seriously.

Every day is my thanksgiving, because I would rather be grateful than complain.

I promise to bring back my asshole ways in the next post.

what’s up, doc?

In Health and Wellness, Relationships on November 22, 2010 at 7:55 pm

I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.  It sucks, because it’s at 7:30 a.m., and no one should have to sit on a cold table covered in waxed paper that early in the morning.

Other than the early morning aspect, I don’t mind going to the doctor.  I’ve never been afraid of doctors or dentists or shots or needles.  In fact, of all of the places I’ve worked, I liked the hospital the most, because I love doctors.

I’m not a hypochondriac, because usually when I think something is wrong, I’m right.  I can sense illness like dogs can sense thunderstorms.  But I’m not the healthiest person in the world.  The Pontz family is not hardy stock.  We live pretty long, but we’re kind of weak and sickly the whole time.  We are sickly little addicts who are blessed with a nice long life of being sickly addicts.

I’ll feel more at home than ever tomorrow, because I’m going to the cardiologist.  I have heart defects- nothing super serious, but I’ll probably have to get some sort of valve transplants by the time I’m 50 (I’m hoping by 2028, I can get my pig valve in bacon flavor).  As a result though, I’ve been going to a cardiologist since birth.  Up until I was about 16, I had to go at least once or twice a year, and it was an all-day affair.  There wasn’t just a doctor to see, but EKGs and ultrasounds and x-rays.  I actually looked forward to it- my cousin Avery had heart defects as well, and our moms scheduled our appointments on the same day.  Avery and I played all day and then got McDonald’s for dinner.  That’s a pretty awesome day as far as I’m concerned.

I’ve been blessed with some awesome doctors, but I’m mostly glad that even though I’m not the healthiest horse in the herd, at least I’m not skittish about it.  I guess I was born to be sick.  And if that Facebook quiz is accurate (and why wouldn’t it be?), I’ll be doing this until I’m 96 years old.

I think I’ll have an apple.

comfortably dumb

In Food and Spirits, Health and Wellness, Home on November 18, 2010 at 5:18 pm

I think a lot.  I analyze and then analyze my analysis.  My brain is usually going a hundred miles an hour.  Sometimes I forget what I’m talking about in the middle of the story because my brain has already moved on.

But now I’m sick.  Just a cold, nothing fatal, but one of the first symptoms I usually notice is clouded thinking.  I have a hard time focusing.  My reading comprehension goes down the tubes.  I can’t remember anything.  By the time someone has finished their question, I have forgotten it.

This means I’m completely useless when I’m sick.  I don’t think I’m too whiny, but I’m definitely a waste of space.  I’m too weak to get mundane tasks done, and too dumb to even read.  I just sit on the couch and stare at the television and then go to sleep, on repeat for 3 or 4 days.

By day 3, I’m itching for human contact.  I’ve become tired with computer-mediated communication and a nod to the mailman while I’m walking the dog.  I’m ready to slather myself in antibacterial soap and throw on a hospital mask and mingle with the masses.

Though, I will admit that it’s a nice break.  All that thinking wears me out after a while, so turning into a couch potato for a couple days is probably necessary for the batteries to recharge.  It just so happens that my battery juice is made of HGTV and Chinese food.

I just used all of my available brainpower for this post.  I hope I can still maintain bladder control.  I’m going to go sit in the bathtub for a while just in case.