November 21, 2012 § 1 Comment
Oh you read the headline right, I pretty sure I am like a magnet to a compass only I destroy all uterus’s that come in my vincity. I’m pretty sure I might be the Bermuda Triangle of reproductive health.About two weeks ago we started to see a stray cat at our back door and slowly began trying to lure it with food (hell I would go into a strangers house if they had random free treats), finally we built up enough trust to get her inside. We had every intention of giving her a warm bed and meal and then off to our local shelter in the morning. However 1 hour later and one huge set of Puss’n’Boots eyes later it was pretty clear she wasn’t going anywhere. The next day I had a appointment with the vet to get her checked out, as they ran all the tests I was in the waiting room ready Dog Fancy. The vet soon called me back and gave me a run down of all the things wrong with her but easily fixed but then came this statement “and she’s pregnant!” “Pregnant?” Great of all the kittens I had to take in I got the town tramp.Oh god what if she was a cat hooker and her pimp will be coming looking for her. As understanding as Ben had been about one cat I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be able to hide a littler of kittens (although I was already starting to think of hiding places, that’s not a kitten it’s just one of those googly eye cat clocks) As I was absorbing this information he leaned in, looked both ways and whispered “However, we can fix that with the spay, if your beliefs allow you” Holy crap he’s talking about a kitty abortion (perhaps I’m naive but I didn’t know there was such a thing) I am a feminist by nature and always vote for pro-choice but I didn’t know the rules for cats. Then I had this vision of me walking in the door and being surrounded by cat protesters with their pro-life signs & heckling us by throwing cat toys. Would she be shunned by the community & become an outcast amongst the other animals. Does Roe vs Wade apply to cats?
Let me fast forward to the next appointment where the vet comes out and says “Well she’s not pregnant she just has an infected, inflamed uterus” (Ahhh this brings me back) With that information my new kitty had to have a hysterectomy. After all the drama that I had to go through to get one I was a little amazed all it took was me saying “Ok”. No “what if she wants children someday?”, “she’s not getting any younger” or “maybe she should go home and ask her husband first” (oh yeah that happened to me) Just hey she’s sick lets take it out. She didn’t have to put her paw on a paper that said “we can’t put it back” (yes that happened to me as well) Just a 3 days, mine took me just under 10 years.
Last night we were all curled up on the couch me, Ben, Page (our first cat) and Zephyr (our new cat) not one uterus between the four of us. I’m sure Ben was feeling out numbered and thanking his lucky stars that cats don’t go through menopause or he wouldn’t have a chance.
May 20, 2012 § Leave a comment
For my birthday I posted the 10 reasons it’s better to be 30 than 20 but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t also do a post of 10 things that get worse in your 30’s (Sorry but I can only be an optimist for a limited time)
At 20: When I got a phone call at 10:00 pm on a Friday I thought “Alright there’s a party somewhere” At 30: I get a phone call at 10:0o pm on a Friday and I think “Oh great someone’s been in an accident or dead”
At 20: They were just “my jeans” At 30: They are “My skinny, one day I hope to fit into them again jeans” ( I secretly keep them in my closet still convinced that my new dryer shrank them)
At 20: When my mom used to take me to a movie in the middle of the week I used to give her an eye roll when she said “Why is it so packed on a weekday? Don’t these people have jobs or school?” At 30: I recently went to see Hunger Games on a week day (the first showing because tickets are a $1.00 cheaper) and as we pulled into the parking lot I caught myself saying “Why are these kids here isn’t there school? Is it a holiday? Don’t these parents work?” (Kind of a double whammy because you catch yourself saying things your mother said and you vowed to never say them when you got older)
At 20: I used to be able to eat anything I wanted At 30: My meal choices are based on whether I have to be up early the next day or if I remembered my heartburn pills.
At 20: I used to date guys with mohawks, black eyeliner and neck tattoos. At 30: I see a group of those guys and I wonder what they are up to.
At 20: Listening to Nirvana and Pearl Jam meant you were rebellious and on the cutting edge of music At 30: No one knows who the hell Nirvana is and they are under Classic 90’s on Pandora.
At 20: A Saturday night out consisted of bar hopping, going to one of our boyfriends shows (that’s right we all dated musicians back then) and not getting home until 2:30 am Sunday At 30: A Saturday night out is picking up my Chinese food
At 20: Dinner was anytime after 9:00 pm At 30: We try to have dinner at 5:00 to “beat the crowds”
At 20: I only took naps when I was sick At 30: The promise of a nap is sometimes the only thing that gets me through a day
At 20: Moving only took a half a day and only cost you a case of beer At 30: I have put off moving for 3 years because I worry it will be mistaken for a Hoarder intervention
May 19, 2012 § 3 Comments
Last year I turned 30 and went through menopause all in the same year, so one would think I would have nothing to fear from this birthday (I mean short of me being in the same room with all my ex’s, me gaining 30 pounds or suddenly realizing they forgot to take out my uterus this should be a piece of cake…mmmmm. I want cake) So I was really surprised with the growing anxiety of my impending birthday. You know those people that say things like “age is just a number” and “your only as old as you feel” well frankly they piss me off and they are only saying it because either they are a hell of lot younger than you or because they know they look friggin’ old. Also I just heard some annoying jackass on TV refer to 30 as being middle-aged, they should censor shit like that. If you are going to fine Janet Jackson (Miss Jackson if your nasty) for showing her boob ( I’m sorry her middle-aged boob) then the FCC should fine that idiot,t00.
So in celebration of me turning 30 (for the second time) I am listing 10 instances of why I’m glad I’m 30 and not 20 anymore:
At 20: I once had a boyfriend who waited a month to break up with because he wouldn’t have a ride to school At 30: My boyfriend owns his own car (and it runs)
At 20: 2 items from the dollar menu came dangerously close to over-withdrawing my bank account At 30: I have overdraw protection and a savings account
At 20: I thought all wine came in a box At 30: I actually have unopened bottles that I’m purposely saving
At 20: I used to buy Bartles & James from my local Rite Aid At 30: I visit wineries & local vineyards
At 20: I only owned one pair of shoes At 30: I have a cute pair for every outfit and occasion
At 20: Some of my part-time jobs included ( I am not making these up): Magicians Assistant, Face Painter, Merch Chick for local punk band, Living Art Model and Thrift Store Sorter At 30: I teach students in their twenties
At 20: Some of my ex boyfriends included ( I’m not making these up either): A Magician, An anarchist, a guy who looked like a pterodactyl, a guy who had the entire Lord of the Rings story tattooed on his arms, a guy named Cooter, a guy who roller bladded inside the house and a guy who asked to borrow $20 bucks to get to another girls house At 30: Dating the same man for 7 years (even if he irons his sweater vests, weirdo)
At 20: Always worried that I was pregnant At 30: Never have to be worried about pregnancy again
At 20: Was trying to get everyone to like me At 30: Everyone should like me because I’m so friggin awesome & if they don’t they are obviously the person with the problem
At 20: I thought 30 was really far away At 30: 40 seems right around the corner (wait that’s not better, shit)
May 24, 2011 § Leave a comment
We just got a Chipotle Grill where I live, this is a HUGE deal for this area. It’s probably the equivalent of the Royal Wedding in Britain (ok not that huge but still a cause for celebration) Why is this so exciting because it means we have a healthy fast food restaurant in our area and I no longer have to convince myself that McDonalds is indeed a healthy choice because they have “apples” in their pie.
I don’t love Chipotle Grill, I LOVE Chipotle Grill! I have been secretly dating Chipotle on the side since it opened it’s doors. I have fantasies about the food when I look at my boyfriend all I see is a giant burrito. Why do I love it so much? Many reasons: 1) The food is all organic and they use fresh ingredients 2) They only have 4 choices & for ordering with my boyfriend that is a gift from the heavens (he once spent 20 minutes just looking at the drink menu at the Cheesecake Factory-after all that he orders a Pepsi) 3) You get to pick and choose what they put on your burrito. I have been compared to Meg Ryan’s character in “When Harry Met Sally” when I order food, I just hate when you can exclude an item you don’t want. And finally and the most important reason Chipotle Grill is amazing is the fact that there is no charge for an extra side of sour cream-Viva La Chipotle.
Before I continue let me tell you that because of my recent medical setback I had to be off my estrogen for 3 weeks throwing me back into full-blown menopause. So I tend to be a little on edge & a bit hormonal. Today was a rough day but no worries Chipotle will make it all better, but what’s this, a new guy on the line. I start to order “A burrito, fajita style, shredded beef, sour cream, cheese and that’s it” and the new guy looks at me from his spoonful of salsa and asks What kind of salsa? “No salsa, thank you” You have to have salsa “No I don’t think I do. That’s why I come here, that’s why i dream of this place you don’t need to have anything you don’t want” C’mon you must want some salsa (At this point I’m thinking dude what is it with you and the salsa. Why don’t you take my salsa and save it for latter since you are such a fan) Well I have to ask my boss. “Seriously” So I see him walk over to the boss, an adorable pink haired girl who I overhear saying “How many times do I have to tell you they don’t need salsa, Ted. Just wrap the burrito. This instance makes me love them even more. So perhaps the cure for a menopause relapse is not estrogen but having a giant burrito with unlimited sour cream and a pissed off boss who has to deal with Ted for the next 5 hours.
May 19, 2011 § 2 Comments
Today is my birthday, I am officially 30 years old. Not only am I now a 30-year-old woman but I am a menopausal 30-year-old woman. Now I’m not usually the kind of person who is concerned with getting older but there is something terrifying about the word 30. First I don’t feel 30, I don’t look 30 I still have cartoons on my glass ware( and that’s the kind we offer to company, that is no 30-year-old behavior) 30-year-old women have 401k’s, good china and they have matching throw pillows I however barely have matching socks.
It’s not so much how I feel about turning 30 but it’s everyone else’s perception about the age. You watch commercials and its anti-aging cream for women over 30 and look at the magazine covers they read “how to stay sexy over 30”. I went to Target to look at the birthday cards and this is what I saw: the birthday cards for 29 year olds were these stylish women drinking cocktails laughing in hip outfits, really neat patterns & phrases like “Have a birthday as stylish as you are” or “Here’s hoping your birthday is as fun and interesting as you are” but then you look right next to them and you know what you see on the 30 birthday cards? Grim Reapers and pictures of grandma’s. I shit you not. In the span of a year you go from a stylish interesting woman to a blue haired women in a walker. Last year I was wearing daisy dukes now I am Driving Miss Daisy. I even saw on one card a picture of a clock with legs that said “Your biological clock is ticking” who the hell gives these cards?
It’s also the way people (especially women) react when you tell them you are turning thirty. I have gotten such responses as “Oh, I’m sorry”, “Are you ok?”, “How are you handling it?” My family took me out to dinner and this lovely waitress came over to our table and my family told her that I was celebrating my 30th birthday and the waitress leaned over me, put her hand on my shoulder and asked “oh, how are you doing? are you ok with that?’ I swear I have gotten more pity looks in the last week than I did when I had my hysterectomy. Plus women love to tell you their birthday horror stories like ” I spent my 30th eating a pan of brownies and crying over my high school yearbook” I have actually have had people tell me I shouldn’t be alone that day. I swear I feel like I should go to a random funeral just for some more cheerful conversation.
Yesterday I was in a happy fulfilling relationship now people are saying “hey when are you getting married I mean you are 30 now, You don’t want to be one of those “old” brides”. Yes I can’t imagine how I will make it down the aisle I mean with my hip replacement and all and but I’m probably so close to being senile that it won’t even matter because I could be marrying a camel and no one would notice.
Men will never understand this because it’s totally different for them, a man turns 30 and people say “oh, you’re so young, you have your whole life ahead of you” and “there’s plenty of time to get married, have fun” With my hormones mixed with this day I say SCREW YOU very much. They are loosing their hair, can barely fit into sweat pants and consider cheese whiz dairy and they are the ones who are youthful and full of promise, typical.
Now, I don’t mean to get biblical for my last statement on the subject but when you are feeling down about THE BIG 30 just remember this lesser known teaching in the Bible: Even Jesus walked with prostitutes, washed feet of the lepers and broke bread with ladies that had just turned 30 and got an Over the Hill” Hallmark card.
May 18, 2011 § Leave a comment
You might have noticed that I have written anything in a while and it’s not because my uterus suddenly grew back and my menopause went away or I suddenly became less sarcastic, no the reason is because I had the weirdest (and with all the things I have gone through that really is saying something) infection of my life.
I will pick up the story where I left off with me getting a root canal. Well my dentist put me on an antibiotic and a few days later I started to feel really run down, tired and my stomach was all sorts of upset.You know how you have bad hair days, I thought I was just having bad menopause days. By Saturday it was apparent that something was wrong but I thought it might just be the stomach flu or food poisoning but upon waking up in the middle of night with stomach pain so extreme I couldn’t walk, Sunday I was on my way to the emergency room.
No mind you it is 3am on Easter Sunday and there is probably not a scarier place on earth to be than the emergency room. These are some of the people we encountered while waiting: a woman with a black eye telling the check in lady that she got in bar fight and has no idea where she’s at now, a man who got drunk and hit his head when he fell in a ditch, a victim of a knife fight, a woman who could only be described as a street-walker with a tight T-shirt with a leopard head on it and see through white stretch pants and gold gladiator sandals and a woman who was handcuffed to her chair.
So after being triaged this wonderful nurse decided that I wasn’t a hooker or a drunk so we got to wait in the back room this however was not much better. From these chairs I got to watch a woman pace the hall screaming “Lord help me, please help me. I want to die” and got to hear this coming from one of the rooms in front of us “Take your damn pills Karl” FUCK YOU, you can’t make me you Nazi “Listen you either take the pills or I will call security” Call security You crazy bitch, I’m not taking your communist pills “You know what I don’t care anymore don’t take your pills your just going to be back here in an hour anyway” So then we see a nurse leave the room and come back with two security guards (now mind you I am sick as a dog but I suddenly perk up because I might see a gun fight or someone might shoot me and put me out of my misery) When the guards enter I hear them say “Alright guy the party’s over let’s go” FUCK YOU, get away from me you devil “Take your pills and you can go” I’m not taking your pills. Die pigs. “Either you leave or we are going to drag you out of here” I’d like to see you try, you bastards. This just kept going on and on for about 15 minutes until he was escorted out screaming “You’ll never take me alive!”
After seeing a social worker looking up and down the hall and overhearing him say to the nurse “Did you see a girl in a flannel shirt, Damn I think I lost my drug addict” I finally got called into a room.
To be continued…………………….
April 15, 2011 § Leave a comment
Let’s put aside the fact that I think the universe is trying to kill me: First the hysterectomy didn’t kill me, at times I felt like menopause was killing me but I lived through that, then without missing a beat it was a car accident and now just when I’m starting to not fear leaving my house I was in need of a triple root canal because of an infection.
But like with most things I encounter even a root canal has an element of hilarity. I was prescribed a simple antibiotic which before taking I was reading the list of side effects and thats when I came across the following statement, I shit you not: Although this effect is uncommon, you may develop a black “hairy” tongue while taking this medication. This effect is harmless and usually goes away.
Imagine reading that, I mean this might be the one side effect I actually wouldn’t mind getting just to see what a hairy tongue looks like. I wonder if you can shave a tongue? What I wonder is why do all the medications I need have unwanted hair as side effects, what’s next a vitamin that will cause hairy knee caps?