Thursday 22 November 2001

First off, a big happy birthday to my Sam - it was his birthday on Monday, we celebrated quietly on the day, it really was honestly just wonderful and celebration enough to be together ... Awwwwww. 

Sunday night we went out with Melissa and Scott to a marvelous classical concert, the Mozart Festival Orchestra's "Four Seasons". It was a nice programme,, perhaps a trifle "hackneyed" (they played Bach's Air in D and Pachelbel's Canon), but it was so very pretty and well-done that even those old chestnuts had a certain bounce I usually associate with the style of the Australian Chamber Orchestra. It was really pleasant too, to take in a bit of "kulcha" and listen to some classical music (my CDs still haven't arrived, see).

Also our finances are too tight right at the minute to go in for too much indulging; we'll make up for it later! Also, we had a bit of a treat planned for later in the week ... more later.

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I've had quite the girlie time of it the last weeks, what with the lingerie affair and all, and this week I had a make-up and a hair experience! I should state for the record, that although I probably come across as a very girly-girl, and I do like seeing what's new in the beauty world, I don't practice so much. Most days lately I wear moisturiser and lip balm and that's it; if I have to go out of the house and look presentable (going to Tesco to buy kitty litter really doesn't count as such an occasion) I will swipe on some mascara and eye liner. But yeah, I've become even more minimalist and au naturel than ever before. It's more my current "lifestyle", not going to work means not having to do the whole war paint thing.

(Although, I did buy a new foundation a couple weeks back, as my skin needs have changed a little with the climate change; dryness rather than oiliness is the issue, hence I needed a slightly richer formulation than the one I was using - and was nearly out of anyway, justify justify. I ended up with Maybelline's Smooth Result "Age Defying" Make-Up which is just the job, although I really do detest the "Age Defying" label ... why and how is it "age defying" simply because it is formulated for drier skin? Since when does dry = aged? And why would I want to defy a natural process through pseudo scientific hanky panky anyways?)

However, with the whole wedding thing looming, and having to at least think about the hair/face aspect, I took myself off to the MAC counter at Debenhams in search of a different look to my usual semi-Goth black liner and mascara, yet not wishing to get into the whole blushing dewy innocent bride thing either, ew. The mission; to look like me*, but with perhaps a little more imaginative use of colour appropriate to ivory chiffon ...

*  anyone noticed that distressing tendency for so many brides to not look like themselves, they are so "done" ... I mean, I reckon Sam would prefer to recognise the woman standing at the registrar's desk as moi.

Generally I hate, loathe and despise the counter-girls; they slap paint on your face in ever increasing strata, with total disregard for your natural colouration and the "look" you have asked for, so it was with some trepidation I approached my appointed artiste (hee). Luckily for me she turned out to be very down to earth, willing to experiment but not go into turquoise and chrome yellow eye shadow territory, getting an instinctive feel for both my skin type and my general style.

We played around with colours a little which was fun; as I use the greys and greens when I do use eyeshadows, I thought I'd try out the violets and plums, figuring these more "pretty" and suitable for The Day yet still glamorous. Also, vanity vanity, knowing my colour wheel I figured those colours would make my green eyes go *pop* (in a good way).

Wonder of wonders, it worked. Lise, my counter-person, turned out to be very very good at discussion of colours and application tips, which was just what I needed, being a leeeeetle hazy in this area. Now, with a little more practice and playing, I will be more than able to do my own make up on The Day. Which means (a) good for budget and (b) I am far more likely to look like me. 

Unfortunately though, I am now showing frightening tendencies to becoming a MAC junkie (and yes before you ask, I did buy a few items and very flattering they are too).

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Act Two in the Beauty Special was just tonight, and Sam was also a participant. And a willing one at that ... we both got our hair cut! And we look gorgeous (well, Sam definitely does; I had a mere trim so not much difference there but Sam has a whole Hugh Grant/Keanu Reeves thing going now so mmm mmmm).

We followed the hairdressing with a divine meal at The Morning Star (Sam's usual for him; the 8 oz sirloin with Strangford mussels; baked sea bass with herbs for me, and various sides to share). Altogether delish.

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I was intending to entitle this entry "Lousy fucking bloody horrible despicable flaming ignorant specialists" but thought that might be kinda offputting ... However that's precisely what's going through my brain at the moment, previous meaningless blonde-ish prattle nonwithstanding.

Just a little background; I have a long long history of ill health, no correct diagnoses being made or proper treatment undergone or decent medical care received until I was 26 years old, when I was referred to Zeus (whole story here). Zeus is my hero, someone I could count on to call in a crisis, who would be there for me, who did what most doctors should but don't do, ie care for their patients.

So I was not happy about leaving Zeus; leaving Australia, even family and friends, did not engender the same feelings of panic and insecurity as did the prospect of leaving Zeus. However, we found a specialist who seemed to match all the criteria (consultant rheumatologist, working out of the Royal Victoria Hospital ie the best hospital in Belfast, hence access to any new programmes/treatments, an interest in fibromyalgia therefore likely to be simpatico... ). Zeus sent off a letter and some of my records to this chap, asking him to take me on and please look after me.

Well.

I finally had my appointment with this, this dick. To begin, he had not read Zeus' letter, and had not the faintest idea who I was (he thought I was Polish for crying out loud). Bad, very bad. Warning bells started jingling.

Ten minutes into the "interview" he had established that I did not actually have the connective tissue disease I had been diagnosed with, as people with connective tissue diseases "did not experience pain". READ THE LITERATURE, DICK.

After interrupting the guy several times with case history, questions, waving my Xrays/CT scans/MRIs in his face (which he did not deign to look at) I asked, sarcastically, what his diagnosis was.

That turned out to be, and I wish I was kidding, as a result of me finding out that I had Coeliac Disease at such a late stage, thus triggering essentially psychosomatic symptoms, due in large part to my personality. Dick handed me a diet sheet for calcium intake and suggested I try aromatherapy and reflexology.

AAAAARRRRRRGGGHHH. 

Okay, not sure if that adequately expressed my complete and total rage, fury, humiliation, distress, goodness knows what else ... 

I know what is wrong with me; I know what treatment I require.

I do not need someone telling me, when I have severe chronic pain on a daily basis, that quite often goes acute beyond recordable scales, requiring some pretty hefty painkillers, that I should try aromatherapy and reflexology.

I do not need diet sheets, thank you very much. Excuse me? Gluten free? High in necessary nutrients and vitamins and minerals and taking supplements where required? I think I know from diet.

I do not need some unhelpful dickhead telling me (like an acid flashback to when I was 18) that I am a neurotic female.

I am ashamed to admit that when I got out of that surgery I howled and howled (oh, I did manage to hold it in until I got home; didn't want to freak the cabbie). And in between the howling, I had to laugh, because it was all so pathetic and stupid and ridiculous. 

But I do feel insecure not having a primary care physician, not having someone to look after me, not having Zeus. It will take time, I guess, and is another adjustment. Another. 

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