Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma’am

Everything was going along swimmingly this morning during my lady exam with my new gyno. She and I hit it off swell. She’s matter-of-fact, smiley, wears blue scrubs and no makeup, and she’s 7-months pregnant.

As she was acquainting herself with my inside parts, we chatted away, and I said laughingly, “I never check my IUD strings!! I know I should, but hahaha, I can never bring myself to do it!!” To which she said, “Oh, hahaha, I should check those strings!!” And then, “Hmmm, these actually feel a little low.”

A new speculum was rounded up, and I was cranked open again. My new friend felt around and reported, “Yeahhhhh, actualllllly this IUD is partially expelled. It has to come out.”

Thinking this would happen at some point down the road after I’d been allowed time to become seriously freaked out and anxious, I asked, “How is that going to feel? Because getting this IUD inserted was the absolute worst thing that has ever happened to me. Ever.”

The gyno didn’t miss a beat and said, “I hear ya – I felt the same way. But this won’t hurt much. Just a little cramping.”

Because I’m aware that “just a little cramping” is code for “you will feel like I just punched you in the cervix and then stuck a fork in it,” I started to prepare to work myself into a sweaty, nervous mess.

But before I could ask more hard-hitting questions such as, “will I be left alone in a room while I bleed from my cervix?” the gyno announced, “okay, here we go!”

To which I yelled, “YOU’RE TAKING IT OUT RIGHT NOW???”

“Yes. Okay, here we go!”

Surprised by the comparative lack of pain, I exclaimed, “hey, that wasn’t so bad!” Which was quickly followed by, “oh, wait, there’s the cramping.”

She showed me my IUD buddy, but I didn’t have my wits gathered to request a photo shoot. So here’s a stock image of a Paragard IUD next to a dirty dime. It is small and mighty, but apparently no match for my body’s ability to expel foreign objects.



Also, I finished these.

Also, I finished these.

Waving my angry fists in style.

New Year, New Song

So many good, amazing, wonderful things have happened in the past year, but I feel like I’m at a similar point as last year.

This is my current song on constant repeat:

Maybe it’s a bit melodramatic…maybe. But, damn it, I’ve been emotionally dried out and my heart feels like it was scraped across the road. Less so now, though, which is a good thing.

So easily, I became wrapped up in an intensely intoxicating whirlwind of a person, and then I was ejected out and left alone to claw my way through feelings. Claiming oneself to be emotionally unavailable is a maddening cowardly thing to do. Claiming that love is unconditional and infinite is a way to avoid doing real emotional work required of any sort of relationship, even friendship. Claiming to be wacky and quirky is a thin veil for actually being a self-absorbed, self-important prick.

The problem with being compassionate and empathetic is that one can easily ignore red flags. Oh my goodness, the red flags.

Anyway, here I am, trying to begin another year without cynicism and skepticism, but dang it…it can be difficult.

Thank goodness for awesome friends…real friends who don’t use cop-outs like being emotionally unavailable…who don’t mind listening to me spew endless rantiness and tears.

Things will be better…I just have to get over this yucky little speed bump called a mishandled and slightly broken heart.

One Day I’ll Be Fine With That

I’ve been listening to this song on endless repeat lately:

This week has been filled with partner and non-partner yoga, and it’s brought up a lot of emotional stuff.

Mostly I feel empty and open. And sort of peaceful.

And I feel like being alone and just thinking about me.

And I know I’m not ready for any sort of serious relationship. I have a lot of stuff and growing to do still.

Nearly #1

You know what always makes my day?

Seeing all the hits I get from people searching on the phrase “benefits of androgyny.” Thanks to a post about scoring extra turkey after being sir’ed in a food court, I’m number 2 in Google search results!


It’s nice to feel tops in something after not doing as well as I wanted to on a final today. I take responsibility for not studying as much as I should have. I prioritized working on a group project over my final, and well, I have to be okay with that. I didn’t do terrible, but I sense a B+ rather than an A.

More Dream Encounters

Maybe it was obvious, maybe it wasn’t, but in October I had a hurt-y experience with someone. I let my little fledgeling fragile heart loose, and it got caught in some ickiness.

And I think my unconscious is finally letting it go because I dreamt about it last night.

There was a slight confrontation, which ended with the other person staring searchingly into my eyes and telling me that I have the palest eyes he has ever seen.

Which doesn’t make much sense because we all know I have black eyes.



In other news, the semester is winding down with much craziness. Everything is due at once, there are a couple of finals next week, and people keep giving us new assignments.

The semester has flown by with much activity. I enjoyed it, and I think I’ll enjoy next semester even more.

Human cadaver lab, here I come!


And, a couple of weeks ago I was lucky to see the Carolina Chocolate Drops perform at the Sheldon (thanks to a friend who works at KDHX!). It was awesome to see this guy play the bones:

Well, Hello, Mr. President

Last night I dreamt that a friend and I were to appear on Good Morning America with none other than the president. The reason behind it seemed unclear even in my dream.

However, it was quite clear that Obama sat between my friend and me on the pre-show couch, and I found his hand making its way up my thigh.

This development found no protest from me.


I also had night sweats for the first time since getting off citalopram.

That development was met with cursing protests from me. Four times I woke up in drippy disgust.

I’m hoping this was due to an anomaly in internal body temperature or my hot presidential dream, and not a new trend.

Blargh, tiredness.


I also dreamt that Scout shat on me.

Which sounds about right.

I feel bad that she’s so alone, but she’s such a jerk. Porkchop tried incorporating Scout into her flock, and it was a bit of a disaster.

Porkchop’s hens welcomed Scout into their coop, and Scout reciprocated by pecking their eyes.

Such an ungrateful little hen.

Put Your Lips Together

I’ve been listening to this song obsessively lately:

When I have a break between classes, I plug my earphones in and traipse around the CWE, half whistling along.

My school program is an intensely overstimulating social one. There is group project after partner project after community project. And while I like most of my schoolmates, my little introverted self gets so exhausted.

Sometimes I just need a song, a sidewalk, and a stroll.

Being in School is Hard

Here’s a summary of highlights from my school week so far:

  • Practice juggling.
  • Do origami.
  • Build paper airplanes.
  • Fabricate splints.
  • Play with a therapy dog.

My cooking lab starts next week, so I’ll be doing some soul food research.

Yo, it’s rough.

(Just to be clear, we also do hard things in the midst of this fun. I’m actually pretty stressed out about the rest of this month. I mean, my gosh, juggling is hard to master.)


There Were Waffles

Melt is a new-ish place in the Carondelet area, and I suggest you check it out.

They serve:

  • coffee drinks
  • waffles, including gluten-free!
  • cocktails
  • ice cream
  • boozy shakes

In sum: all of the good things.

Gluten-free turtle waffle!

What more could you want, really?

Argh, matey!