What you doin’ gittin’ all up in my grill, eh?!
Seriously? Can’t I give you a bear hug first thing?
He smiled as I folded my arms around him from behind.
It’s a good way to get yourself knocked out, yo!…Your breath is kickin’ this morning. Go drink some coffee.
I take his advice and grab a cup of coffee. Russ was up this morning before me and made my coffee while he drank his, so it would be ready when I rose.
It was the second night in a row I had crazy dreams. Last night, I dreamt I got roped into riding a few horses for another professional. Don’t ask me who, because I don’t even know. Dreams are so detailed in some aspects and completely vague in others. I rode and rode and rode, and then hurried to catch a plane. Of course, I needed to pee badly, as I wouldn’t have had time to do that trying to get through all of my rides. So I hit the bathroom at the airport and that’s when I realized I had my period. Badly. It was full-throttle and everywhere. And then the light bulb goes on over my head. I have most likely bled all over someone else’s saddles, didn’t know it, can’t fix it, and they will now find out for themselves, long after I’ve gone.
I am horrified…
…and embarrassed, and full of shame, and frustrated with my massive accident that sometimes happens when menstruating. I hated dealing with it when I was a kid in middle school, and the unpleasantness came full circle again these last few years, when the flow really picked up speed. Some days I felt sure I was just going to flat bleed out.
How can so much blood possibly come out of a living person?
I wondered if my dream wasn’t the result of my recent appointment with my gynecologist, when we had a post-op discussion, and also due to a friend who confided her teenage daughter had an emergency the other day at school with her period. It brought back memories as soon as she told me. I still remember when I got mine. It happened right before I went to swim practice after school. I had no idea what to do. I immediately got in the pool and practiced for two hours, but I did not get out and get ready to go home like normal at the end. I stayed in the pool swimming until I saw the whites of my mom’s eyes when she came to pick me up. My mom huffed in because I didn’t meet her outside by the car like normal. It was always a rush to get home and get dinner going. The coach just threw his arms up in the air and shrugged when he saw her. He said, “She won’t get out of the pool, I tried.”
Middle school is the worst as it is, but add menstruating on top of it, and it’s truly hell for a young girl. Needless to say, there were days in school not unlike my horrible dream, or my friend’s daughter, when I would need to go home early due to an emergency.
Boobs Take Two
After my quick cup of coffee this morning, I jetted off to yoga.
Yoga Barbie was teaching.
She was wearing her yoga uniform—tights and a jog bra. However, this bra wasn’t as itty-bitty and tight as the last time she taught class. It was more ‘normal-sized.’ I thought things were looking up (no pun intended). This time, while she walked back and forth across the studio during class, it was hard not to notice her pulling her bra up by its straps the whole time.
Ahhh, that’s when it hit me.
Her ‘mini’ bra kept everything together, whereas one that fitted her…well…didn’t.
I had to suppress a smile. I thought of one of the comments I received about the Yoga Barbie bit in my last blog. She said,“My husband always said I should be thankful I’m not well endowed because I’ll never have to tuck them into my pants.”
I laughed when I read it and thought, “Well that’s a good way of looking at it!”
While in the past I often wished I had more curves (anywhere), as soon as I started riding and running with serious intentions, I was grateful my boobs were never an issue. I’d hear women complain about having to wear three bras and all the back pain they endured, and I would sigh with relief at avoiding that fate. If there’s a silver lining to having a small chest, it’s that, especially considering the career and lifestyle I chose for so long.
Watching Yoga Barbie this morning, I couldn’t help but think this was a foreshadowing of her future…
Yesterday, at my appointment, my doctor asked me many questions, including “Does alcohol affect you or make your symptoms worse?”
Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.
After surgery, I could not tolerate my go-to: red wine. One tiny glass almost made me throw-up. It was enough to abstain from it. I found myself unexpectedly drinking beer for the first time, almost since college. Back then I was a fan of the $5 pitchers. In the last twenty-five years though, I can probably count on one hand the number of beers consumed in a year. So, not a lot.
I was speaking with a friend recently who got sick after eating and drinking a rich, delicious meal. She normally eats very clean, but she let herself off the hook for the first time in a very long time. She told me, “You wouldn’t believe it. I got soooo sick. It was like my body rejected my decision and said ‘Hell no!’”
I told her all of these new ‘restrictions’ we were suddenly facing are penance for partying hard for the last 30+ years. I’m not sure that’s such an outlandish statement without merit. You can only tip the scale one way so much before having to tip it back , or it will tip itself back, whether you like it or not. We both agreed there were no regrets for living it up in the past, but I added that paying up wasn’t nearly as much fun!
Broken Record Over the Phone
Her: Sitting here waiting for the plumber….
Me: Hmm. That sounds like a country song…or is it an upcoming date??
Her: Haha! (Singing) Well, I neglected the sewer line and now the sewer line is neglecting me.
And that was all I needed to hear.
Here goes my first country song:
I met a plumber.
It was him or the drummer.
His tool belt was sexy and he bought me a beer.
He has a great smile and he likes to hunt deer.
I like his dirty truck with its big, dual wheels.
It smells like paint and gives me the feels.
He showed up in my life at just the right time.
I have a big problem but not a spare dime.
I neglected the sewer line, and now the sewer line is neglecting me.
It has no mercy for a sweet divorcee
It’s backing all the way up, down to the street
The last plumber left me and the job incomplete
My neighbors say it smells like a load of shit
But they’re all a bunch of conniving hypocrites
Pretty soon I’ll need a porta john
If my plumber decides to go and get gone
He’s gonna have to pry up the floor
Means I’m gonna have to put out a lot more
Thank you Lord for sending the plumber my way.
He read my pipes from a mile away.
Once he handled my pipes
I knew he was completely my type
Thank you Lord for sending the plumber my way!
This song is an all-time low in my writing.
But it was fun!
(It will happen again).