So I ended up having an “endometrial biopsy” this morning. I’ll spare you the details, but my exact words during the procedure were, “Um, hey, so…this doesn’t HURT-hurt, but I would SUPER love it to be over soon.”
And then it HURT-hurt, just in a pressure-y, menstrual-cramp-y way, resulting in fun bonus bleeding, exhaustion, and quease.
Human bodies are so disgusting.
In happier news, I’ll get my period this weekend, but that’ll be the last one, because fuck you, Nature, I have a pill now. 🖕🏼
It just seems rude that my face is capable of having wrinkles AND a pimple.
Really, Nature? Blow me.
Every time I hold a baby around my relatives, someone invariably says something to the effect of, “You’re a natural.” So I can only assume a woman’s default demeanor when holding an infant is, “Scared shitless she’ll drop it, or that its head will fall off.”
It’s a baby, not a fucking shark. I’m cuddling a tiny, wriggly human who smells like toast and isn’t an asshole yet. Her default state is “snuggle.” It’s not difficult.
Besides, she has you people for family, so what sounds like me whispering soothing nothings into her ear is actually me singing her my therapist’s phone number like it’s a Sesame Street song, hoping that, similar to the alphabet, it’ll be on her mental auto-dial as she gets older.
OK, logically — sciencely — I know menstruating has probably never killed anyone.
New Lad is camping. In the rain. I have never been so happy to not be at an event to which I was invited.
And that’s how I know I made the right call — there are exactly two people I’d ever want to camp with in a dating sense, especially in the rain. I’m not a camping girl by nature (campy, yes, but not camping), but spending time with them is always so fun that they make me want to try things I wouldn’t do on my own. (Not to mention the thought of smooching under the stars at night while getting soaked by summer rain makes my knees weak. And I can’t even imagine how sexy I’d look trying to hush during tent sex.)
With New Lad, I think I’d have to go poke a bear with a stick just so we didn’t have to stare at each other trying to come up with things to talk about. (“How are you repeating stories already? I’ve only been with you for two weeks and we hardly ever talk. Go poke that bear with a stick and get a new story!”)
Plus, New Lad wouldn’t even go to a restaurant with me while it was raining. He’d check the weather every time we went out, as if meteorology is an actual science. I’d hate to see the pouting that ensues when weather screws up his Wilderness Girl vibe.