Let me begin by saying that I will NEVER (hopefully, NEVER) do this again. And although I hesitate to share this awful situation, this is, after all, an Ostomy site, and Ostomates deal with these kinds of situations more often than one would imagine. Besides, I have been working hard on my self-esteem over the years, and it is important to own a (large) failing when it happens, in order for me to continue to grow. Otherwise, I will stop the hard work, and who knows how far back I may slide?
So, let me begin with the glamorous part. Monday was a wonderful day! I had a photoshoot arranged for my book, now entitled, MORE THAN MY OSTOMY: LOVING MY PERFECTLY IMPERFECT BODY! which is to be launched this spring. Needless to say, this required spending more time on my makeup than I have done the past 7 months put together. Layers and layers of tricks to buff my skin, highlight and lowlight the angles and planes of my face, eye shadows in just the right colors in just the right places, well, you get the point. I was my own highly paid Makeup Artist. Hair was freshly cut and colored, thanks to Kim at Fiorilli Hair Design, (908.753.7717) the outfit began with red, my power color, and went from there, and the omnipresent flower I wear as my connection to other ostomates was proudly positioned.
My photographer, shout out to the adorable and super talented Georgi Jester (347.860.2049; georgijesterphoto@gmail.com) made the shoot so much fun, and made me feel like a real model. (I love the photos, and can’t wait to share them!) It was a day that created the illusion I was a Glamour Babe, and it has been a long, long (okay, very long) time since I have felt like that. So, I have been on a cloud, reflecting on that experience, smiling as if the camera was positioned on my every move, until today. I tumbled off my cloud and hit the ground with a loud thud. Here is what happened to bring me back to reality…
When I change my pouch every other day, which is filled with, well, you understand, I put it in a disposable bag, and often times, put the tightly tied bag in the laundry basket filled with dirty clothes, to take to the garbage, saving a trip up and down the stairs. I then throw the clothes into the washing machine and take the plastic bag out to the garbage can…always, always, except, you guessed it, this time. Obviously, I was distracted by something, (perhaps my newfound musings of my new career as the shortest, oldest model professional model in the history of mankind) and must have not noticed the well-tied plastic bag. Note to all of you: the effect of the agitation of a washing machine on a well-tied plastic bag may allow the bag to remain tied, but it can, and probably will, tear apart…the bag!
Opening the washing machine to move wet clothes to the dryer brought with it a big surprise, and not the kind of surprise that makes you giggle with happiness. No, it was more of an “OH, S**T!!! Believe me when I say that was not a fun twenty minutes I spent cleaning up and putting dirty clothes back in to wash again. But all is well, because we live in modern times, and the washing machine sparkles again, the clothes came out clean the second time, the rags are back in the rag box clean and dry, and my ego, well, don’t ask about it. Being brought back down to earth reminded me I will never be a professional model, and I promise l will never do THAT again, I hope, I hope!