The Five Stages of Sickness, or, I Am Now Dying

This may be my last blog post, because I'm probably dying. I have a really sore throat, people. So I'm tracking my Five Stages of Grieving (read up on Wikipedia, a non-credible source, if you don't know what those are). I think these stages -- and their order -- pretty much describe every illness I've ever had.

Enjoy my pain.

DENIAL
This usually occurs Day 1. I wake up with a sore throat, and cheerfully scold myself, "Oh, you! You drank too much coffee yesterday and then slept with your mouth open!" Self grumbles, but knows this to be true. Illness is not an option.

Denial becomes a little more difficult as the day goes on, and gallons of water don't seem to hydrate throat enough to make it stop hurting. "No, no, NO, I am NOT sick!" is the refrain because my body is like a lizard -- if something goes wrong, I'll just regrow a tail or a pancreas or whatever I need to not have a sore throat.


ACCEPTANCE
Upon waking on Day 2 with a sore throat, acceptance comes. It sounds like this:

"I'm siiiiiiiiiiiiiickkkkkk!"

Paranoia is a common side affect of acceptance -- I accept that I'm sick, but I also accept that someone, somewhere gave me germs and it was probably on purpose. This time, I doubt it was bin Laden because he's dead, but I haven't ruled out some other terrorists. Or my co-workers. They're interrogated appropriately about their recent symptoms.

"When you got sick, was your throat sore? How long? Tell me, dammit! Or," I continue ominously, "this unicorn and its pet puppy will pay."


ANGER
Day 3 falls on a weekend, almost invariably. This brings on ANGER. I think that's pretty self-explanatory.


BARGAINING
This can fall on Day 3, too, since I quarantine myself and then I get bored. I might as well bargain as watch Dirty Dancing again.

Example bargains:
- If I'm going to die, at least I'm a martyr -- I'm protecting innnocent lives from the death I'm about to experience, because if it can take on my hearty immune system it's clearly the kernel of a pandemic. You're welcome, world, for staying home and eating popcorn.

- If I'm going to die, people had better say nice things about me at my funeral. My best friend gets an email asking about the eulogy she should have planned. She responds that it will be awesome but refuses to provide details for my editing. My mother gets a text about my impending death and a request that she not tell "humorous" stories at my funeral. She agrees to talk about my nobility of character, my beautiful visage, and my humility. She seems eager to talk about my humility.

- If I'm going to die, I need to at least survive until I'm done eating the chocolate truffles in my apartment, because they are $1.19 for three now. They used to be $0.89, for goodness sake! I'm eating them before I die, even if they scratch up my throat that is already killing me.

I'm not good at bargaining.

DEPRESSION
You might be surprised, but Kubler-Ross didn't say the stages she outlined followed her chronology. Sure, acceptance would be awesome here, but really -- depression is all that's left. Depressed that I'm never going to get well. Depressed that the consulting nurse told me over the phone that if I don't have strep throat I probably have acid dripping down the back of my throat (like a mutant or a dragon... both of those are bad). Depressed that the doctor ran tests and confirmed I *don't* have strep (but asked me if I planned to spit on him. I have never spit on him before... in fact, I've never met him. I just look like someone who spits on strangers).


On the off chance I survive, it's scheduled for Thursday. But by then I'll have run out of stages of sickness and/or grieving. Do you experience any stages I didn't mention?

Spandex Disco Pants!

That's what the email subject line read: "spandex disco pants!" Clearly, this was an email I needed to read.

Turns out that because of this blog right here, I was discovered by American Apparel in Switzerland. They're in DESPERATE need of models (let's face it: all the tall blondes there are kind of mutants), and they came across my website and knew I might have what it takes to model SPANDEX DISCO PANTS and make them super popular with the blonde mutants.

Oh baby, can I ever.

Pictures like this must have been what sealed the deal.

Let me share the email that is about to launch my modeling career.

Hy Christina!

i saw in a blog your answer , which has re

Hello!

My name is Danijel and

I am a fashion creator and i work for various fashion centres in switzerland. At the moment i have a job from american apparel switzerland.

They opened 2 stores last year! I really dont know how is that whit these spandex dicco pants by you over there, but here in switzerland these pants are not famous! Thats the reason because i need you!

It would be not a problem, to fînd a model here for a shooting but for only these few pics that we need, we really dont want to waist our time. we are salers no photographers :) So i have the exercise to find some girls, which want show us some pisc. We must search on the web, because here is nobody waer these pants. We want to improve the situation on the market, and thats difficult whit only 2 stores! Our sector is especially the DISCO PANT and SPANDEX LEGGINGS! We want to bring these trend back in live!

And now that, what interest you:

why you? we have 2 things what we want to do whit your pics if we like them:

1. we manufactured posters of you and show these as advertisements.( one for example infront of each store).

2. we bring you into our fashionmagazine 2010 for our clients.

and another important: if we will choose you, you get a prize of 250 swiss francs!

At the moment we have 3 girls, wich send us some photos.

Deadline is the end of Januar!

-we choose 3 pics, in front, from back and from side (thats the stances).

-Its not important where do you make the pics, but you must be the only person on picture.

The pictures must be clear!!!

-If you decide to send us some pics of you, look that is the pant tight on you, and if you wear a shirt or a pullover look thats no longer until your hips!

( we must see the pant)

-and please dont forget: only black spandex disco pants and Leggings

For last: dont think to much!

This organisation is only for us. Much more pics we have, much more we can choose and your chances are better.

You have few pics on your blog, but these are not right for us!

Take a digital camera and lets make some pics of you.

Sorry for this long long mail but now you know more and all important things.

Hope you understand???

And I really want you for our publicity because you looks great!

Its dont a joke!!! please give me an anwser, ok?

And really, you have talent for this bussines, i see this.

greeting, Danijel

Obviously, I got on this opportunity immediately. Here was the response I just sent.

Hi, Danijel,

Thanks for emailing me, I'm really excited about this! Ever since the car accident last year, where I lost my leg and both my eyebrows, it's been hard for me to find clothes that make me feel attractive and really complement my new body type. I can't wait to put on some disco pants, tie up the empty leg, and take some good photos to send you!

So when should I start packing for the fashion magazine shoots in Switzerland? If I'm going to move there to model disco pants, I think it's probably time to break up with my boyfriend. It's a new start for me anyway, and as a model I'm sure I'll find someone more attractive and with a better job than a doctor. Seriously, he's always performing life-saving surgery on some kid -- I'm tired of being ignored! This will show him!

Thank you for recognizing I'm more than a missing leg and a pretty face. I do have a talent for business, and I'm excited that I can get into this well-respected one. I have some big ideas for American Apparel, which I'm sure you're going to love. One freebie: elephant ear capes. Oh my gosh, it's going to be huge. Anyway, I should probably go ahead and find some disco pants and get started. Can't wait to see you! Ciao!

Christina

Readers: I could tell you otherwise, but it wouldn't be true. I'm totally going to forget you when I'm famous. Until then, however, I want to hear about the best email you've received from a complete stranger. Tell me in the comments!

Black Friday Lesson: How to Lose a Finger

I wasn't planning to lose that finger. All I wanted was a few hundred dollars' worth of stuff for $3.97.

But the Black Friday Curse struck, and I'll never be the same.

You've never heard of the Black Friday Curse? Neither have I. I just named it, though, because it obviously exists -- otherwise, how do you explain how this seemingly beautiful post-holiday holiday severed the nerves in my pinky?

It wasn't the long lines or the cold weather. It couldn't have been the 80 lb. box of Oneida dinnerware I carried until all my fingers lost sensation. And I know for a fact that it wasn't the massive amounts of coffee I consumed, even though we know it constricts blood vessels and there are rumors that blood vessels are necessary.

No. The reason I can't feel my pinky finger anymore is the Black Friday Curse. And as I shake my partially numb fist at the heavens, I promise you this:

I will never shop Black Friday again.

At least not more than nine more times... because by then I'll be out of fingers.

The lesson? Fear the curses you don't even know exist, but name them well so the loss of limbs won't be in vain.

"No Subject"

Take a look at my shapely leg.



Wait, you didn't notice the lovely curve of my calf, did you? What you were probably noticing was the result of intense determination without a lot of physical coordination.

It's a long story, involving my belief that desire + stubbornness + trying really hard = achieving whatever I want (thanks, after school specials for teaching me that falsehood). The story also involves me dropping a motorcycle on my leg.

I was angry with myself for not succeeding in what I wanted to accomplish the very first time (because I am Christina, the empress of awesome), I was irritated with my leg for its multi-colored status (it made swimsuit tryouts less than appealing), and the only way I reaped anything happy out of the situation was by forcing people to look at my calf when they obviously didn't want to (I even emailed pictures to friends, using deceptive email subject lines like, "no subject").

So tell me, when you hit that moment where you can give up or try again, how do you decide which one you'll do? Or do you just make everyone around you miserable with ugly pictures?