Ass, Vagina. Not like that!

Can I call an official moratorium on calling people who plan to procreate “breeders”? It’s just obnoxious. Shall we call people who don’t plan to procreate “sterilized”? Yeah, didn’t think so. Eat my ass people. My plans for my uterus have fuck all to do with anyone else. (Did that seem a little annoyed and defensive? It did, didn’t it? I shall try to move on).

Ok, now that that’s done… So tired. My eyes look like two pinholes in a puffy, undercooked pancake. Oh, and to top it off, red, painful zits, two of them, developing right on the tip of my nose. Say it with me, people! “Hot.”
Yes, that’s me. But, you know what makes me feel better about that? I finally got my birthday present from Xtian. It’s a bright blue, really shiny, Ipod! I know, I’m a little retarded in my excitement, but I’ve been coveting one ever since I bought Xtian his for Xmas last year. I’m a terrible human being. But, I finally get to jump on the bandwagon, after all these years. I feel accepted and socially with it. And that’s what really counts. Right? Right? *cough cough*

Moving right along: So, in an effort to show those at my work who are thinking I’m knocked up like a rapper’s personal assistant, I tried to wear more snug clothing today. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s helping. After more than a cumulative 60 hours on a treadmill for the last 2.5 months, my gut has not shrunk in any way. So, I’m probably just reinforcing the rumor. Good lord. Now, when if I ever do get knocked up *knock wood* everyone’s going to give me those knowing smiles and roll their eyes. Just awesome.

For all those squeamish about vagina talk, consider this your warning.

So, I had a gyno appointment last week. All’s well so far, which for someone with my fucked up cervix is a good thing. I actually had the gumption to ask the nurse to NOT tell me my weight when I stepped on the scale. Very liberating. I’m done freaking out because I weigh an ENORMOUS amount. (Don’t ask. Just….don’t).
The doc came in, and I told her all about the whole trying but failing in the baby-making department, and she wasn’t concerned, gave me some helpful advice and then got down with the exam. While I’m in stirrups, she’s chatting about this Doctor’s conference she went to, where this guy was talking about “Hello Therapy.” The whole idea is to speak directly to your organs, “Hello kidneys! How are you? I know you’re having a rough time right now, but I know you can take care of yourselves. Thank you for taking care of me all this time.”
Now, I fall pretty in the middle of the traditional vs. nontraditional medicine. I’m very “just give me the fucking vicodin and let me get on with it,” while still being pretty “So, I think instead of having surgery, I’ve heard of this therapy where you lie nude from the waist down in a bed of daffodil stems, and drink sun tea.” So, I’m pretty open to new stuff, and I told the doctor that this “Hello Therapy” sounded interesting, even just from a greater awareness of your body function view.
We chatted like this for a while, and then she says, “You know, normally, I wouldn’t tell a patient about that, but I just feel so comfortable with you.” WHILE HER HAND WAS IN MY VAGINA!
The situation was so strange, but I guess pretty cool, I almost laughed out loud.

I guess I really have that affect on some people. Most of my life, people have really felt comfortable telling me things they wouldn’t tell their closest friends, let alone practical stranger. I don’t know what it is, people just trust me kind of naturally. I think it’s mostly a good thing, but it can really lead to some strange scenarios. On the other hand, this was the best exam I ever had. I didn't feel a thing. I thought she was just getting the speculum in, and she was already done. Seriously. (Maybe only a woman can appreciate the art form that is a GOOD vagina doctor's exam.)

So, with that visual imagery threatening your sanity, I’m going to go eat as much food as I can find. I’m freaking famished today!