Hello. Happy Halloween.

That’s all I have for today. Thank you, good night!






Psyche. Oh MAN, what a Halloween trick that was!

So, I had my second ultrasound today for my ongoing issues in the uterus/ovary department. I took my week worth of progesterone, turned into a raving bitch-o-saurus and had sore boobs and waswicked, wicked tired. I don’t understand how something your body produces naturally can mess with you so badly. That seriously sucked.

This ultrasound had me tweaking out hardcore for some reason. I don’t know why, considering I know that I’m not right, but still. I was afraid I was going to be told the mass living inside me had gotten bigger, or that they wanted to do a biopsy because maybe it isn’t a fibroid after all and might be the Big C.

I’m very good awfulizing things and making something out of nothing. It’s a gift, what can I say.

And this technician today was a proper older woman, which I think I preferred the younger gal I had a month ago. She was talkative and even though she didn’t have the greatest bedside manner, freaking me out, at least she talked to me and let me know shit wasn’t proper, whereas this lady was prim and quiet and if you ask me, spent a little too much time with her wand in my va-jayski. The other gal was, pardon the pun, in and out (aw…just like sex with my ex-husband), but this one was more methodical and took her time and she didn’t say anything to me except, “okay, sit on the table and slide your butt to the edge and put your feet in the stirrups.”

And to make matters worse, they were playing the WORST music overhead. I know Michael Bolton is supposed to be a great baby making musician, but to have to listen to him croon about when a man loves a woman as another woman is shoving an ultrasound wand inside my body was just too fucking funny to me. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Sweet Jesus.

And then there’s the ongoing issue of realizing what makes me a woman is failing me. I know I discussed this in my last post, but it’s a hard feeling to shake. What’s pissing me off the most is knowing there are women out there having babies when they shouldn’t be, meaning the crackwhores and other unsavory types. They can have kids and what about me? Grant it, I’m not in a position to have children yet. You kind of need a willing participant to help aid in the baby makin’…unless imaculate conception is in my future, which holy crap. No thanks. I don’t need that kind of pressure. Congratulations, you’ve been chosen as the next contestant in “My Baby Is The Next Son of Man!”

Life can be such a cunt sometimes. Honestly. I guess the key to getting through the cunt-y-ness of life is to not let shit like this get to you, but I know from past experiences how fucking difficult that is. I’m not one to hold a grudge as that’s a pointless thing to do, but some things tend to leave a mark on you long after they’re gone.

How poetic of me. Ew. IT BURNS US!!

Anyway, so, lamenting about the defective uterus blah blah blah. I’m kind of over it now. I mean, I’m not, but I am. No use crying over spilt…uterus.

Gross. I’m sorry, that was just awful.

Okay, well, I will be back filling you all in on my uterine escapades. Toodles for now.


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