Vaginal Effin Drama......take 2.

Hello Everyone,

It's that time where I talk about missed periods, cramps, and the oh the so popular PMS. If you haven't read the last blog, then go back! There is no skipping!!

Did you notice on Gilligan's Island, that Mary Ann and Ginger never seemed to get PMS or that monthly visitor from out of state that no one likes but they invite themselves? They come into your home, piss you off, eat your food, drain your energy, and otherwise turn a pleasant person into a raging bitch? Yep, that one. You never heard Mary Ann tell Ginger that she had cramps or that she was not feeling oh so fresh. It makes me think, was the island visitor free? Did they miss their periods due to the overwhelming stress of being stranded on an island with a bunch of idiots? Did they pack an overwhelming amount of Tampax and Midol? Was there some vagina lottery that I missed? I really want to know.

Ok....I'll get out of their vagina's and get back to my own. Where was I? My husband was a wus, I got the poison depo shot, and my uterus was in ignorant bliss for a year and a half with no period. So, my period eventually comes back and to say the least it made up from it's vacation with a vengeance. I would bleed for weeks, take a quick commercial break, and then bleed again. It was like my uterus was on crack, ran out of money to buy more so it went through withdrawals, and then robbed a little old woman on the street and bought more so it could bleed again. It couldn't get enough of the red stuff. Then, I would skip a few months and the cycle would start over. I know...I know. I had years of nothing but disgustingly great, textbook periods. But, it's not like you can remember that when your uterus is on a binge. It seemed like another lifetime when all was good, the birds were singing, and my uterus was not being a complete bitch. That's right missy, I'm calling you out for what you have become. Go ahead, make me bleed more, it will only prove my point.

So, I made the fatal error of telling my doctor that my vagina was on crack. I said look, I'm tired of this craziness. Just give me some drugs. Cut her off, put her under conservatorship, and give her a monthly allowance. She is out of control. Her response was well, you're fat and old and I shouldn't give you birth control (ok she didn't call me fat but I'm calling it like it is and she did mention my weight and fat is the new skinny anyway). I felt like she was going to take me to the back parking lot and shoot me. I had now passed the age where I couldn't get vagina drugs. I was floored. I was thinking, when did this happen? I'm still 30 dammit (at least that is what I tell people). Maybe I could go to East San Jose and score some. This can't be the end for me. My vagina has rights to drugs just like the young vaginas. My vagina is too young to get the discount at Lenny's (I mean Denny's). So, I clenched the front of my gown (well the girls were big and trying to break out of that little scrap of cloth they gave me - I think I heard them mumble something like...don't let her touch me again, I feel so dirty), and I begged. I had no pride. I was trying to throw in vacation front property and my husband. What???! Besides the fact that he's a wus, he's a keeper. He even paints my toe nails since I can't reach them cause I'm so fat (lol just kidding I can reach my toes...I can't see them cause of my boobs, but I can reach them). Finally, after promising not to bear children and a down payment on a Ford Focus, she told me she'd give me some drugs IF I had an endometrial cancer test (those Kaiser doctors are hard). I thought, that's it? Bring it on! So, I lay back down, pretended that the ceiling was the freaking Sistine Chapel (cue elevator music), and let her do her business. However, she couldn't get it in. My cervix was not opening. I felt all this cramping and was like wait a minute, I didn't tell you to rearrange the furniture in there. What the hell are you doing? She tried 3 times at least but every time she came a poking, my cervix was like no...you didn't say the secret password and nothing is getting by me without it. Step off. That is right, my cervix drug blocked me. I was not a happy camper. My next option was that I had to be referred to another doctor because no test, no drugs.

Here is where I'll stop for now. Don't worry, my crack addict vagina will be back next week with the saga of Dr. Scrapey (yeah he earned that name). Until then, hope you have a vagina drama free week. Vagina out!