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Archive for the ‘tellin secrets’ Category

tina what the fuck

Thursday, May 21st, 2015

Therapy. Lesbians.

(This is much less dramatic than the intro made it sound, but the intro is accurate! Just wait!)

I decided to go into therapy, cause, you know. I think we can all use someone to talk to and stuff. My best friend is in school to become a counselor and sometimes she says brilliant insightful things based on what she’s learned* and I was like hey, lots of things have changed in my life, maybe I should stop exploiting my best friend for free therapy and talk to a professional.

*She said brilliant and insightful things before too. Like, one time, she accused me of wanting to spend the night at her house because I had a crush on her little brother and she was RIGHT!**

**We were maybe fourteen and her brother was a year or slightly less younger than her. Crushes on 13 year olds when you’re 14 aren’t gross. Crushes on your best friends little brother are gross. Too close, ladies, don’t do it.

So I found a therapist that was super close to work and a woman (important to me, I said to Crockett offhandedly that ‘I don’t want a male therapist because I’d probably try to make him like me’ WHICH WOAH I SHOULD probably tell my real therapist about that) and she was very much not my thing. She just agreed with me a lot.

Since I always think I’m right, that is not a helpful problem solving attitude.

If paid enablers were a thing I would totally call her first.

So I found another woman, further from work but still commutable during a work day distance, and she does all these wacky things, and she asked me questions, and wrote stuff down, and I just loved her. Unfortunately, lots of other people love her too, so she couldn’t work me in regularly until mid June. She called today with a cancellation for tomorrow, though, so I started the book that she recommended (The Happiness Trap) just a few minutes ago…

while watching The L Word.

Boom, therapy and lesbians. Do I deliver in the least exciting way possible or WHAT.


exerting control like a motherfucker

Thursday, October 9th, 2014

I used SketchUp (awesome that it’s free but it makes me feel like a very old person because it does what I want it to do about one time out of every three and damned if I know what the difference between the working times and the non working times is) to create a perfectly measured model of my new house. Then I measured my furniture and tested it out at various locations.

My wardrobe is fine, but I chose to spend the next five weeks (the length of time before I move to wherever the hell I’m going to move to) testing the whole ‘capsule wardrobe’ concept. I’m limiting myself to 27 items of clothing and ten pairs of shoes and packing the rest.

What I’m trying to say is WHOA NELLY. I am feeling a little out of whack.

External organizing leads to internal cohesion, right?

I’m pretty sure that’s a thing.

you look at how many?

Thursday, August 14th, 2014

I know I’ve been writing about *ahem* … body stuff a lot lately. This post is going to have a lot of lady-body related words and if that’s not your thing, then just carry on with your bad self and I’ll see you in a couple of days.

Today I went to the gynecologist and it was hilarious.

To me.

So first things first. Going to the gynecologist is not, in and of itself, hilarious. It’s kind of terrible. If you’re personally familiar with a speculum, then you know whereof I speak. If you don’t know about a speculum and you have a vagina, then get thee to a doctor, girl. If you don’t have a vagina but you’ve been to a proctologist, I’m guessing it’s not that different? If that also does not apply to you, I think you’re probably 14 and you shouldn’t be reading this blog but hey, think about when your orthodontist puts those big, cold, metal tools in your mouth and it’s uncomfortable but it doesn’t last that long.

I’ve had the same lady-bits-doctor since I have had a lady-bits-doctor. I don’t remember exactly how old I was but probably 14 or 15? She’s a member of the practice that the man who delivered me belonged to, actually. (He has since retired.) Best estimate, I’ve been seeing her for close to twenty years.

Home town loyalty, baby.

So today, she tells me that her daughter just had her first pap. (The pap is the thing that requires the speculum. Other things might require speculums but those things are not on my radar and I’m more than pleased to keep it that way.)

I think oh that’s adorable.

Then she says, “She’s 21, and while she was getting it she realized that that is what I do all day”.

Who doesn’t realize that their gynecologist mother does paps all day by the time they’re 21? Do gynecologists not have bring your daughter to work day?

I totally would have let a ten year old girl be in the room eleven years ago. As long as she stood by my head.

So then my doc, I think in an effort to relax me because I freaking hate laying there staring at the ceiling with my feet in stirrups (like how I say that like I’m the only one with that feeling?), tells me that she’s been volunteering at the 9news health fair for a few years and she does 25 paps between the hours of 8 am and noon on a single day.

My immediate reaction was to say, ‘wow, that’s a lot of vaginas’. I mean, she was between my legs. If I were allowed to make dumb jokes at any time in my life, it is that time. However, when I thought about saying it I waffled over the use of the word vagina. Should I say ‘vulva’, since that’s what’s actually in her face? Should I say ‘cervix’, since that’s what I think she’s looking at while she’s using the speculum (word of the day!)? I was talking to a professional and I overthought it and then boom, she was telling me I could sit up and my moment had passed.

But still. 25 vulvas in four hours.



ask me about my IUD!

Thursday, July 17th, 2014

Or don’t. I mean, you can, if you’re curious, but that was more of a lead in to the fact that …

Drum roll please…

Wow I just realized this sounds like I might be leading up to a pregnancy announcement. Since I moved in April … actually timeline wise that would kind of make sense for me to be announcing that.

Oh, no, totally not having a baby. I am aware of that because I have an IUD and more accurately because this week I was bleeding in a way that if my uterus had been a nose a doctor likely would have insisted on cauterizing it.

Yes, I know, gross. Whatever. It happens to half of us.

Actually. I just looked this up. Based on an average period length of 5 days, an average cycle length of 29 days, and periods from age 12 to age 50, roughly 334 million women are swimming in shark week at any given time. So there’s ‘it happens to half of us’ vs 4.7%  of the world like RIGHT NOW.

So, yeah, you can say gross but there’s a one in twenty chance that the person you’re talking to is bleeding from their girl parts.

(Yes, I went to grad school for stats. No, you cannot show that last statement to my advisor and insist that she confiscate my degree.)

The whole point of this meandering diatribe is that I wore a white linen skirt, on the heaviest day of my period. It worked out fine but I was never comfortable.

I’m a crazy mofo.



Thursday, May 22nd, 2014

I ordered some pants from J Crew recently. (I cannot say enough good things about the Campbell capris, if you like pants that show your ankles. I love pants that show my ankles, they make me feel like Audrey Hepburn. I am not the first person to say that, I’m completely sure.)

Aside: I wear a lot of J Crew. I just checked my spreadsheet and the last work day that I was NOT wearing anything from J Crew was May 7th. The last work day that EVERYTHING I wore was from J Crew was May 1st. J Crew neither knows nor cares about this.

Aside aside: Yeah, I track my clothes on a google doc. I have a tab that has my whole wardrobe along with the date purchased, the suggested price, and how much I actually paid (almost exclusively less than the suggested price, whatup yo). The tracking tab references the wardrobe tab, so the wardrobe tab also has a price per wear column. It’s a serious problem. I only use it for stuff I wear to work, because my nighttime clothes are basically one pair of jeans and ten dollar tee shirts.

So these pants I ordered have a seam that’s unraveling, and due to a recent debacle in the changing room of my local J Crew (nothing to see here, move along folks) I don’t want to return them in store. I’m mailing them back tomorrow. (Yes, it was a debacle worth the $5.95 they’re going to charge me in return shipping. Still not talking about it.) I found an appropriately sized box, wrapped the pants up, and then went looking for a pen to fill out the return form.

I have no pens. Or pencils.

The only writing utensils I have anywhere in my apartment are a relatively sharp green crayon and a flat topped blue crayon.

That is not an adult way of life.

I have shame.