My whole life I have dated older, more "seasoned" men. Now, at the age of 32 I find myself with options that are younger. While trying to embrace the whole "cougar" concept I have found myself thinking "nope, I am just too old." So for all of you ladies getting hit on by younger men be prepared for some, if not all, of the following things to happen.
1. "I'm gonna hit it." - Step back in time, it's like 1994 to 1998, I am walking down the boradwalk in Ocean City with my 2 best friends and some random guy yells "can I hit that?" which is the less confident version of "I'm gonna hit it." To the best of my knowledge, keeping in mind my memory sucks, this line didn't work back then. Now, fast forward to present day. When I hear it now the first thing that comes to mind is that statement involves some form of assault. Thank God I box and feel confident that if someone hit me I would hit back. I then realize this does not involve punching me (or at least they didn't indicate a kinky side that also involves hitting me) and is an attempt to get in my pants. I immediately feel REALLY old since no one has said that to me in over a decade. I also think, note to self, tell my daughter if any guy ever asks to "hit it" she better punch him and run. The next thing that comes racing through my mind and also causes complete panic is what sex was like back in the day when guys used that line. I don't know of anyone who thinks to themselves "yup the best sex is the kind where I try to play air traffic control directing a jack rabbit to touchdown at a location he can't find on the radar." BUT THEN, just when I think the whole younger man thing should be written off, it dawns on me.... Stamina! I bet the boy has stamina!! And since odds are he graduated from some school in the last decade I bet he is still teachable!!
2. Abbreviations - Ok, I try to be cool but seriously if Google didn't exist I would really have no clue as to what ROTFL means. Actually I'm not even sure if I know what that means right now. When I was younger we all had pagers which we called beepers cause we were cool like that. And when we took beeping someone to the next level we sent numbers that had to be translated into words or better yet numbers that spell something when you turn it upside down. Now I find myself attached to my phone getting texts that say lol, lmao, rotfl, and a whole bunch of other things that I do not know the meaning of. I'm sitting here thinking are they laughing at me or at what I wrote. It's so confusing. And at least once a day I have the pleasure of making myself really feel old by giving up, replying and asking what the hell some damn abbreviation means. I have decided instead of feeling old I am going to make up my own abbreviations and make the young ones feel like they are out of the loop. Something like FDLCGU which is obviously "fell down laughing can't get up." or LSHIP which is clearly "laughed so hard I peed."
3. Selling out younger females - Now I don't ever do this on purpose but if you know me well I really have no filter. I say what I want and I think later. More times than I care to count I have found myself saying to some young guy, usually in a social setting "Are you shitting me? You bought that crap?" My response is usually after I hear one of the following things. 1) She doesn't suck dick because of her gag reflex. 2) Oh she has her period 7 out of the 30 days in a month 3) We have to have all of the lights turned off. and my personal favorite 4) we don't have toys cause I make her cum every time we have sex. I am in such disbelief I have been known to sell out younger females to random strange men in bars. Listen up... if there were a guy that could make any woman cum every single time they have sex, without the use of a toy I would know him and he would be mine!! I can not believe that young men fall for this shit. It really upsets me to think the eligible men that I may stumble upon are dumb enough to buy this crap. Then I am puzzled.... I didn't know these lines actually worked. I suck at lying so I never attempted to use them thinking I would be called out immediately. I feel like this is the holy grail of cougarism. Who knew you could get away with these lines. And no wonder younger guys are after women who are a little more experienced. Hell we don't have to whip out our whole bag of tricks, just do more than the above listed nonsense, and you will still be impressed. This is fabulous news to me since that bar trick I used to do where I put my leg behind my head would probably cause a broken hip at my age.
4. Music - This topic alone causes me to feel old nearly every single day. There are classic songs that I think everyone should know. When I mention these songs to a man under a certain age I get that look. You know the look you used to give your parents when they would talk about something that clearly only old people would understand. Yup, that look. If I have to explain how Marvin Gaye has gotten more pants off than any other man I feel less cougarish and just really old. I had no idea younger people didn't know who Mr. Big is. Or have never heard the song "More than words." And seriously if you haven't slow danced to Peter Gabriel's "In your eyes" you just haven't lived. Then there is the flip side to this situation. When a younger guy says "hey listen to this song, it reminds me of you." First of all I feel old cause back in my day we made each other mix tapes with all of our songs on it. So, I go to iTunes, find the song, download it and listen. Never fails... I can't understand what the hell is being said (yup, I feel old) so I have to go and google the song so I can read the lyrics. If the song was supposed to turn me on or allow the person to "hit it" that ain't happening cause I now feel old as shit and too much like a parent cause I want to scream "this kind of music causes hearing loss." What's crazy is I can see why this whole topic still has an upside if you attempt the cougar life. Odds are 20 other men haven't dedicated THAT song to you during couples skate on a Friday night, unlike the ones I mentioned above.
There are so many other topics I could mention but I haven't exactly found a way to feel sexy and cougarish while discussing them. If I find a way to embrace a boy wanting to "hit it in his parents house cause thats where he lives" I will let everyone know. Until then I'm going to stop feeling old, embrace the upside to younger men, pray to God I never have to deal with a jack rabbit, visit Urban Dictionary on a daily basis to try and keep up with the abbreviations, and work out so I never sustain a SRI which is obviously a sex related injury. Duh!
Friday, May 11, 2012
Monday, April 2, 2012
Hiding from the neighbors kid...
If you know me well you know that I generally dislike other peoples children. It really isn't them, they are a product of how they are raised I suppose. But this time of year really causes issues for me. You see the kid that lives 2 doors down is satans child. Seriously!! Go ahead and judge me for what I am about to say but just remember you don't live next to this little bitch.
There are so many examples as to why I hate this child I really don't know where to begin. The fact that I have to lock my storm door because she will just walk right in to your house is a good example. Once I got wise to the fact that she has no manners and really doesnt give a shit when I say no sorry we can't play today I started locking the storm door. Now she puts her face against the damn door and bangs on it driving the dog wild. So much for getting natural light and a nice breeze in my house.
Then there are her manners.... well lack there of. I suppose it started on dance days when my daughter and I get home later than usual and really do need to get in the house so I can fix dinner, do bath, and get her in bed at a normal time. When I explained that logic her response was "so what?" I resisted the urge to slap her and said "maybe some other day." That came back to bite me when every day after that she asked if my daughter could play with her. So I caved one day, basically to shut her up. That was a disaster. She is a year or two older than my daughter. That being said she is so damn bossy that my child looked like she was ready to beat the shit out of this kid. While playing my kid would say "what is wrong with her? How come she has no manners?" To which this little bitch would say "give me the ball, stop talking to your mommy." (at this point I deserve a round of applause for allowing this child to continue existing in this world)
If the windows of the house are open she stands out in the driveway and yells into this house. She can't remember my daughters name so she yells "Hey" as loud as she can until someone responds. So now not only have I lost my damn door, I have lost the freaking windows too.
I would fail miserably at hostage negotiations because this kid has caused me to give up. We hide in the house, I lie to my child about why we can't play out front (the back yard isn't always safe either since this little bitch often torments the dog yelling at it from her deck), and when we get out of the truck in the driveway we run in the house, close the garage door, shut all doors and windows and lock them.
At this point you are probably wondering where her parents are. If I knew I would tell you. Her poor grandfather and great grandfather care for her and those poor souls look so exhausted I don't have the heart to tell them I would like to choke their granddaughter. The worst part is I am not even safe when I am alone. She still wanders into the yard, torments the dog and yells at me. I have reached the point where my maturity and respect has gone out the window. Now, I just yell "See you next Tuesday." Every Tuesday she thinks something cool is going to happen. And every Tuesday I giggle.
There are so many examples as to why I hate this child I really don't know where to begin. The fact that I have to lock my storm door because she will just walk right in to your house is a good example. Once I got wise to the fact that she has no manners and really doesnt give a shit when I say no sorry we can't play today I started locking the storm door. Now she puts her face against the damn door and bangs on it driving the dog wild. So much for getting natural light and a nice breeze in my house.
Then there are her manners.... well lack there of. I suppose it started on dance days when my daughter and I get home later than usual and really do need to get in the house so I can fix dinner, do bath, and get her in bed at a normal time. When I explained that logic her response was "so what?" I resisted the urge to slap her and said "maybe some other day." That came back to bite me when every day after that she asked if my daughter could play with her. So I caved one day, basically to shut her up. That was a disaster. She is a year or two older than my daughter. That being said she is so damn bossy that my child looked like she was ready to beat the shit out of this kid. While playing my kid would say "what is wrong with her? How come she has no manners?" To which this little bitch would say "give me the ball, stop talking to your mommy." (at this point I deserve a round of applause for allowing this child to continue existing in this world)
If the windows of the house are open she stands out in the driveway and yells into this house. She can't remember my daughters name so she yells "Hey" as loud as she can until someone responds. So now not only have I lost my damn door, I have lost the freaking windows too.
I would fail miserably at hostage negotiations because this kid has caused me to give up. We hide in the house, I lie to my child about why we can't play out front (the back yard isn't always safe either since this little bitch often torments the dog yelling at it from her deck), and when we get out of the truck in the driveway we run in the house, close the garage door, shut all doors and windows and lock them.
At this point you are probably wondering where her parents are. If I knew I would tell you. Her poor grandfather and great grandfather care for her and those poor souls look so exhausted I don't have the heart to tell them I would like to choke their granddaughter. The worst part is I am not even safe when I am alone. She still wanders into the yard, torments the dog and yells at me. I have reached the point where my maturity and respect has gone out the window. Now, I just yell "See you next Tuesday." Every Tuesday she thinks something cool is going to happen. And every Tuesday I giggle.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Eastern Shore Translations....
While reading all of these Eastern Shore ISMS/Translations keep in mind.... I moved here 7 years ago, at the ripe old age of 25, from Owings Mills, Baltimore County. Additionally I had been working in Baltimore City for many years. That being said I love living here and wouldn't trade it for the world. But the things I see and hear still make me giggle.
1. Spelling is no indicator of how something is pronounced... For instance, Hoopers Island is pronounced Huppers Island and if you pronounce it with 2 O's you might as well scream "I am not from here and have no idea where I'm going." Also, trust me when I say this... Crapo is not pronounced the way you likely think it is and pronouncing it that way will offend all of its inhabitants. And speaking of Islands, my definition of an island is clearly quite different.
2. "You should see my country house or hunting property" is code for lets go park somewhere, make out and hope we don't get arrested for trespassing on this land I claimed to be mine.
3. White does not have a season or specific time of year when it should be worn... White boots are acceptable any time of year. Don't ask, I don't get it and odds are you won't either.
4. The local "mating call" involves large pick up trucks reving their engines.
5. When someone asks you the following "you hunt?" the correct response is not criminals.
6. Directions will likely involve some or all of the following statements: "go past the old Johnson house," "turn left where the water tower used to be," "you know the Miller's old house, it's just past that," "go a little ways and look for a tower, turn right there." It really doesn't matter what the directions are, you will not no where any of these things are or who these people are. Get a map (I did not say GPS cause I don't believe Gum Swamp is actually in the GPS system) study it, but still humor yourself from time to time by asking for directions. My favorite "direction" of all time over here is..... "if you hit the water you have gone to far, turn around and come back."
7. You will be called sweetheart, honey and hun so much you will have no idea when anyone is hitting on you.
8. Hugging is a way of life. Don't try to fight it, stop clenching your fists (I speak from experience), just hug it out and you will adapt.
9. Everyone is related. Seriously there are no 6 degrees of separation over here so choose your words carefully before you get an Ancestry.com print out to decide who you can and can't talk about in certain company.
10. Camo is a wardrobe staple. No one is trying to hide from you in Wawa. And at some point in your life you too will know what mossy oak camo looks life.
11. Going to the bakery, the store or Wawa to get coffee is code for going to some place where other people meet and tell me all of the good gossip.
12. "I got backed up in traffic" is code for "this f***ing piece of farm equipment was on Rt 50, I am pissed off and don't start with me."
13. In the summer time "I will be home shortly" means it will take me over an hour to go 20 miles and you will be lucky if I don't call you for bail money.
14. Watching all of the high school seniors drive to OC is an acceptable form of birth control.
15. Waving while driving. Again it is a way of life. Trust me they aren't giving you the finger and you should control the urge to reciprocate. Before you know it you will be waving at people who aren't from here and they will be giving you that weird look like "Do I know you?"
There are so many more but I am tired. I will continue this some other time when I am more alert.
1. Spelling is no indicator of how something is pronounced... For instance, Hoopers Island is pronounced Huppers Island and if you pronounce it with 2 O's you might as well scream "I am not from here and have no idea where I'm going." Also, trust me when I say this... Crapo is not pronounced the way you likely think it is and pronouncing it that way will offend all of its inhabitants. And speaking of Islands, my definition of an island is clearly quite different.
2. "You should see my country house or hunting property" is code for lets go park somewhere, make out and hope we don't get arrested for trespassing on this land I claimed to be mine.
3. White does not have a season or specific time of year when it should be worn... White boots are acceptable any time of year. Don't ask, I don't get it and odds are you won't either.
4. The local "mating call" involves large pick up trucks reving their engines.
5. When someone asks you the following "you hunt?" the correct response is not criminals.
6. Directions will likely involve some or all of the following statements: "go past the old Johnson house," "turn left where the water tower used to be," "you know the Miller's old house, it's just past that," "go a little ways and look for a tower, turn right there." It really doesn't matter what the directions are, you will not no where any of these things are or who these people are. Get a map (I did not say GPS cause I don't believe Gum Swamp is actually in the GPS system) study it, but still humor yourself from time to time by asking for directions. My favorite "direction" of all time over here is..... "if you hit the water you have gone to far, turn around and come back."
7. You will be called sweetheart, honey and hun so much you will have no idea when anyone is hitting on you.
8. Hugging is a way of life. Don't try to fight it, stop clenching your fists (I speak from experience), just hug it out and you will adapt.
9. Everyone is related. Seriously there are no 6 degrees of separation over here so choose your words carefully before you get an Ancestry.com print out to decide who you can and can't talk about in certain company.
10. Camo is a wardrobe staple. No one is trying to hide from you in Wawa. And at some point in your life you too will know what mossy oak camo looks life.
11. Going to the bakery, the store or Wawa to get coffee is code for going to some place where other people meet and tell me all of the good gossip.
12. "I got backed up in traffic" is code for "this f***ing piece of farm equipment was on Rt 50, I am pissed off and don't start with me."
13. In the summer time "I will be home shortly" means it will take me over an hour to go 20 miles and you will be lucky if I don't call you for bail money.
14. Watching all of the high school seniors drive to OC is an acceptable form of birth control.
15. Waving while driving. Again it is a way of life. Trust me they aren't giving you the finger and you should control the urge to reciprocate. Before you know it you will be waving at people who aren't from here and they will be giving you that weird look like "Do I know you?"
There are so many more but I am tired. I will continue this some other time when I am more alert.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Unless your in it, my vagina is not your business
Needless to say between retirement, personal crap and raising kids I haven't written in a while. All the same after watching the news recently I find myself outraged over the step back in time we are taking regarding women's rights. So excuse me while I go off and express my opinions on a bunch of white, upper class, men who want to make decisions about my vagina and sex life.
In the event someone should ask me why I want birth control let me just answer that now for you. I LIKE SEX, I FUCKING LOVE IT and I will not apologize for that. If you have time to ask me why I want birth control my guess is you aren't getting enough cause you have way to much time on your hands. Also, I have a child of my own who I love very much. I am poor, I often make shitty decisions with the men I sleep with so I really don't feel like getting knocked up by some jackass that seemed like a good idea at the time who most likely wouldn't pay child support. But thanks for asking anyway.
Now aside from the fact I like sex and dislike kids, medically I really don't want to bleed to death or deal with ovarian cysts on a regular basis. I know it sounds crazy but both of those scenarios pretty much suck.
Now to the men who are passing legislation or introducing legislation (yes Georgia I am talking to you) that equates women to farm animals I reserve a special place in my heart for you folks. I am an educated woman who has worked in fields you wouldn't dare dirty your hands with. Jobs that are just beneath you. You know jobs where you actually have to have people skills and compassion. Right, I forgot you don't know what those things are. I don't know what laws there are in Georgia but I feel certain equating women to fucking farm animals could upset women so badly they could be rendered not criminally responsible due to a possible psychotic break by your insensitive wishes that they carry a still born child until their body delivers it. Again, you are all men and have no idea what it is like to carry a child. Take this as a hint from God that you bastards have no heart and couldn't put the health and welfare of an unborn child ahead of your selfish ways. Being a man you have never known the pain and hurt of a miscarriage or still born child. Let me assure you that the pain is beyond words, the loss is life long and there is no cure for the trauma caused by the lose of a child. The idea of forcing a woman to carry a child that is no longer alive is barbaric and you deserve a special place in hell that I usually reserve for child molesters only.
I am PRO CHOICE. That doesn't mean I support and want abortions. It means that I believe it isn't my business to force decisions on other people. Having a child is a life long decision and whatever decisions another woman makes are hers to live with, not me.
I will reserve my comments on trying to outlaw porn (seriously why is this even a topic of discussion) for now but rest assured I will revisit them later. For now let me finish by saying this... Unless you are in my vagina, it isn't your business. If you want to make it your business I suggest you go to med school and become and OB/GYN. I am pretty sure you will fail the bedside manner section but what do I know, I am just a WOMAN.
In the event someone should ask me why I want birth control let me just answer that now for you. I LIKE SEX, I FUCKING LOVE IT and I will not apologize for that. If you have time to ask me why I want birth control my guess is you aren't getting enough cause you have way to much time on your hands. Also, I have a child of my own who I love very much. I am poor, I often make shitty decisions with the men I sleep with so I really don't feel like getting knocked up by some jackass that seemed like a good idea at the time who most likely wouldn't pay child support. But thanks for asking anyway.
Now aside from the fact I like sex and dislike kids, medically I really don't want to bleed to death or deal with ovarian cysts on a regular basis. I know it sounds crazy but both of those scenarios pretty much suck.
Now to the men who are passing legislation or introducing legislation (yes Georgia I am talking to you) that equates women to farm animals I reserve a special place in my heart for you folks. I am an educated woman who has worked in fields you wouldn't dare dirty your hands with. Jobs that are just beneath you. You know jobs where you actually have to have people skills and compassion. Right, I forgot you don't know what those things are. I don't know what laws there are in Georgia but I feel certain equating women to fucking farm animals could upset women so badly they could be rendered not criminally responsible due to a possible psychotic break by your insensitive wishes that they carry a still born child until their body delivers it. Again, you are all men and have no idea what it is like to carry a child. Take this as a hint from God that you bastards have no heart and couldn't put the health and welfare of an unborn child ahead of your selfish ways. Being a man you have never known the pain and hurt of a miscarriage or still born child. Let me assure you that the pain is beyond words, the loss is life long and there is no cure for the trauma caused by the lose of a child. The idea of forcing a woman to carry a child that is no longer alive is barbaric and you deserve a special place in hell that I usually reserve for child molesters only.
I am PRO CHOICE. That doesn't mean I support and want abortions. It means that I believe it isn't my business to force decisions on other people. Having a child is a life long decision and whatever decisions another woman makes are hers to live with, not me.
I will reserve my comments on trying to outlaw porn (seriously why is this even a topic of discussion) for now but rest assured I will revisit them later. For now let me finish by saying this... Unless you are in my vagina, it isn't your business. If you want to make it your business I suggest you go to med school and become and OB/GYN. I am pretty sure you will fail the bedside manner section but what do I know, I am just a WOMAN.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Your body should not be a scavenger hunt!
I shall pause for a minute while I prepare to get hate mail from a lot of my female friends. Sorry guys... Meanwhile the men will be singing my praises.
I am a firm believer in personal lanscaping. Maybe it's cause I don't like hair but it really doesn't matter. I know for a fact that when we go to the beach the majority of women nearly lose their lunch at the sight of a man with back hair. You know the men that put Teen Wolf to shame. I feel sick even talking about it. So with that in mind why are so many women opposed to the brazilian? If we nearly puke at the sight of back hair how do you think men feel when they see your crotch?
Men should not have to wrestle their way through thick brush like it's a damn scavenger hunt. And if you make them do that, well.... the prize better be mind blowing.
Now I can hear the women saying "I'm a mom, I have no time" "I work and am lucky to have time to shave my legs" and the new moms are probably saying "what day is it I can't remember when I last showered." While I have been there and done that, trust me when I say grooming is one thing you can not let slide.
I get the whole concept that you don't want so some large strange woman named Gerta ripping out every hair on your crotch and telling you to get on your knees and put your ass up. But I'm thinking your fine motor skills and shaving such a sensitive area may not be the best idea. So I support the Gerta's of the world and thank them for their skills. Lord knows I sure as hell couldn't do that for a living.
I think if you ask your significant other they would gladly shell out the money for a brazilian. I suggest you take some Aleve, have a margarita, pack your sense of humor and head out to your appointment with Gerta.
No hair down there = a man who is happy to please you and really has no idea whether or not your hair and makeup are done. That saves you time right there.
I am a firm believer in personal lanscaping. Maybe it's cause I don't like hair but it really doesn't matter. I know for a fact that when we go to the beach the majority of women nearly lose their lunch at the sight of a man with back hair. You know the men that put Teen Wolf to shame. I feel sick even talking about it. So with that in mind why are so many women opposed to the brazilian? If we nearly puke at the sight of back hair how do you think men feel when they see your crotch?
Men should not have to wrestle their way through thick brush like it's a damn scavenger hunt. And if you make them do that, well.... the prize better be mind blowing.
Now I can hear the women saying "I'm a mom, I have no time" "I work and am lucky to have time to shave my legs" and the new moms are probably saying "what day is it I can't remember when I last showered." While I have been there and done that, trust me when I say grooming is one thing you can not let slide.
I get the whole concept that you don't want so some large strange woman named Gerta ripping out every hair on your crotch and telling you to get on your knees and put your ass up. But I'm thinking your fine motor skills and shaving such a sensitive area may not be the best idea. So I support the Gerta's of the world and thank them for their skills. Lord knows I sure as hell couldn't do that for a living.
I think if you ask your significant other they would gladly shell out the money for a brazilian. I suggest you take some Aleve, have a margarita, pack your sense of humor and head out to your appointment with Gerta.
No hair down there = a man who is happy to please you and really has no idea whether or not your hair and makeup are done. That saves you time right there.
Friday, March 2, 2012
your bra could get you shanked!!
I used to live in Baltimore and definitely have a city mentality. If you don't know what shanked means well you have probably never been locked up. But just replace that word with any other crime like assualt, being shot, etc...
I have seen lots of commercials for bras (I wont name the companies but they are obvious) that have enough padding to add 1, 2 and even 3 cup sizes for you. Where I come from we call that false advertising. Let's play out this scenario real quick and you will realize how this could be hazardous to your health.
You are a B cup, but you buy one of these bras and throw it on for a night out. So now you take your bra created DD's out and everyone takes notice. You and a guy hit it off and he invites you back to his place. One thing leads to another and you get naked at which point he realizes he isn't going to get to motorboat DD's. Imagine first his disappointment followed quickly by his anger since I'm sure there were plenty of other DD chicks there that he passed up due to your false advertising. If you pull this crap in the city it could very well end badly. All because you paid 60 bucks to add enough padding to make people think you had a huge rack.
Since I am a mom to a little girl I have to stop being funny for 2 minutes and say the following: love who you are, the boobs and ass God gave you, and don't add cup sizes in hopes of getting a guy cause odds are he won't exactly be a winner.
I should also say this probably applies to adding padding to your ass. Something I will never EVER understand.
I have seen lots of commercials for bras (I wont name the companies but they are obvious) that have enough padding to add 1, 2 and even 3 cup sizes for you. Where I come from we call that false advertising. Let's play out this scenario real quick and you will realize how this could be hazardous to your health.
You are a B cup, but you buy one of these bras and throw it on for a night out. So now you take your bra created DD's out and everyone takes notice. You and a guy hit it off and he invites you back to his place. One thing leads to another and you get naked at which point he realizes he isn't going to get to motorboat DD's. Imagine first his disappointment followed quickly by his anger since I'm sure there were plenty of other DD chicks there that he passed up due to your false advertising. If you pull this crap in the city it could very well end badly. All because you paid 60 bucks to add enough padding to make people think you had a huge rack.
Since I am a mom to a little girl I have to stop being funny for 2 minutes and say the following: love who you are, the boobs and ass God gave you, and don't add cup sizes in hopes of getting a guy cause odds are he won't exactly be a winner.
I should also say this probably applies to adding padding to your ass. Something I will never EVER understand.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Why women with short term memory loss should not be allowed to have a diaphragm...
The past year has been hell. No really, pure hell. In one week I heard "you have bone marrow lesions consistent with lymphoma", "you might have cancer and need to go to the oncologist", "on top of everything else you have a massive Lyme infection." So, when the effects of Lyme destroyed my memory and cognitive functions I realized I was just going to have to laugh at the things that happened. So when my daughter would yell at me "Daisey is the dog, I am Izzy" I felt horrible but still had to laugh. I kid my fiance that he should be thrilled I only called him the wrong name a couple of times.
As my treatment for Lyme continued I spoke to my doctors and decided I wanted to eliminate whatever medications I could and take a more natural approach to healing (hindsight this was not the most brillant decision.) So my fiance and I met with my ob/gyn and discussed options that didn't involve hormones being released on a daily basis. After much discussion we decided on a diaphragm (again with hindsight this was not smart.) Now I am educated and think I know a lot about sex but I had never seen or handled a diaphragm before. All I know is when the doctor explained there were sizes I prayed to God that I wasn't an XL. Yes, I am that immature. Once I was measured (thank you God for making me a normal size) and the doctor showed us how to properly insert the diaphragm he then proceeded to warn us that it's really slippery and if you don't insert it properly it can shoot across the room. My doc and fiance thought this was hysterical, I was like a deer in headlights. then came the warning that because of it's shape it can actually stick to the wall if it goes shooting across the room. At this point I should have opted for another method of birth control. After much laughter I headed out to the store to pick up my diaphragm and contraceptive gel to go with it. (don't ask why but I find it weird that the contraceptive gel says unflavored on it. I mean it's not Mad Dog, I wasn't looking to get the grape flavor.)
I now know that the male pharmacist and the very young tech are scared shitless of the word diaphragm. And if you ask "is this the right contraceptive gel to go with that" they will start whispering, looking confused, and start referring to your diaphragm as "that thing." As in, "I'm not sure if that goes with that thing your doctor ordered." I was tempted to yell "Can you tell me if this unflavored contraceptive gel goes with my new diaphragm cause I am trying to have some mind-blowing sex tonight." I resisted the temptation.
After using the diaphragm for a while I was loving life. It's awesome. Or it was until I couldn't find it. When you have short term memory loss you begin to really try to be organized, put things back where you found them, etc... So when my fiance and I went to have sex I went to get my diaphragm out of it's case.... It wasn't there (oh shit did the kids find it, did the dog eat it, did I accidently throw it away). So I search for a while with no luck and we go to plan B, you know oral sex. After my fiance leaves to go to work I start searching the house high and low looking for the damn thing. After about 4 hrs I say to myself "where was the last place I saw the diaphragm?" This is when shear panic hits me... The last time it was in my hand was the last time we had sex and I put it inside of me. (enter the little voice in my head praying to God I don't find it still inside of me.) 5 minutes later I send my fiance this text message "I found my diaphragm." He replies "oh thats good, where was it." My response "in me", his response "WHAT???" This was followed by a series of text messages while we try to figure out when we last had sex and keep in mind we are parents so I am lucky to know what I did yesterday. This was followed by me calling the ob/gyn. Now, I seriously think I should no longer have to pay co-pays because I have provided my ob/gyn with stories he can take to conferences and humor all the rest of the crotch doctors. Once I was assured my uterus wasn't going to fall out or any other crazy shit that ran through my head I send my fiance a message telling him not to worry, the doctor said everything will be ok.
We laugh about this all the time which is really all you can do. I mean, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. But now everytime I get some, I also get a text message about 8 hrs later reminding me to take my diaphragm out.
As my treatment for Lyme continued I spoke to my doctors and decided I wanted to eliminate whatever medications I could and take a more natural approach to healing (hindsight this was not the most brillant decision.) So my fiance and I met with my ob/gyn and discussed options that didn't involve hormones being released on a daily basis. After much discussion we decided on a diaphragm (again with hindsight this was not smart.) Now I am educated and think I know a lot about sex but I had never seen or handled a diaphragm before. All I know is when the doctor explained there were sizes I prayed to God that I wasn't an XL. Yes, I am that immature. Once I was measured (thank you God for making me a normal size) and the doctor showed us how to properly insert the diaphragm he then proceeded to warn us that it's really slippery and if you don't insert it properly it can shoot across the room. My doc and fiance thought this was hysterical, I was like a deer in headlights. then came the warning that because of it's shape it can actually stick to the wall if it goes shooting across the room. At this point I should have opted for another method of birth control. After much laughter I headed out to the store to pick up my diaphragm and contraceptive gel to go with it. (don't ask why but I find it weird that the contraceptive gel says unflavored on it. I mean it's not Mad Dog, I wasn't looking to get the grape flavor.)
I now know that the male pharmacist and the very young tech are scared shitless of the word diaphragm. And if you ask "is this the right contraceptive gel to go with that" they will start whispering, looking confused, and start referring to your diaphragm as "that thing." As in, "I'm not sure if that goes with that thing your doctor ordered." I was tempted to yell "Can you tell me if this unflavored contraceptive gel goes with my new diaphragm cause I am trying to have some mind-blowing sex tonight." I resisted the temptation.
After using the diaphragm for a while I was loving life. It's awesome. Or it was until I couldn't find it. When you have short term memory loss you begin to really try to be organized, put things back where you found them, etc... So when my fiance and I went to have sex I went to get my diaphragm out of it's case.... It wasn't there (oh shit did the kids find it, did the dog eat it, did I accidently throw it away). So I search for a while with no luck and we go to plan B, you know oral sex. After my fiance leaves to go to work I start searching the house high and low looking for the damn thing. After about 4 hrs I say to myself "where was the last place I saw the diaphragm?" This is when shear panic hits me... The last time it was in my hand was the last time we had sex and I put it inside of me. (enter the little voice in my head praying to God I don't find it still inside of me.) 5 minutes later I send my fiance this text message "I found my diaphragm." He replies "oh thats good, where was it." My response "in me", his response "WHAT???" This was followed by a series of text messages while we try to figure out when we last had sex and keep in mind we are parents so I am lucky to know what I did yesterday. This was followed by me calling the ob/gyn. Now, I seriously think I should no longer have to pay co-pays because I have provided my ob/gyn with stories he can take to conferences and humor all the rest of the crotch doctors. Once I was assured my uterus wasn't going to fall out or any other crazy shit that ran through my head I send my fiance a message telling him not to worry, the doctor said everything will be ok.
We laugh about this all the time which is really all you can do. I mean, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. But now everytime I get some, I also get a text message about 8 hrs later reminding me to take my diaphragm out.
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