Sometimes I hesitate about posting something. Mostly because my dad reads my blog. And I’m no expert but I’m quite sure no dad wants to read about certain things that go on in his daughter’s life. No matter her age. Like for reals.
But like most everything else where I’m concerned, I’m choosing once again to just put it out there. I’m going to throw my shit against the wall and see if it sticks.
It appears I had a meltdown.
During sex.
True Story. And yes, apparently I’m going to share it.
I’m having a rough time right now. You know when people say “it’s not you, it’s me,” but what they’re really saying is “it’s totally YOU?” Well, it totally is me.
I’m all over the place. I feel sad and I can’t put my finger on exactly why.
And it seems to come pouring out of me at inappropriate moments.
Like during sex.
So, we’re engaged in…you know…it…when all of the sudden I burst into tears. I’m talking full on ugly crying. It was quite unexpected. I didn’t even see it coming.
Tommy (for lack of a better word) stopped, and moved the hair out of my face and said, “What’s the matter?”
“I’m fortyyyyyy.”
He sat straight up then and laughed. “You’re not forty yet. You’ve got what–5 good months left in you?”
By now I was crying so hard I thought I might hyperventilate. BUT, it didn’t stop me from being irrational–which is a great combination and every man’s dream situation. “AND, I’m having a hyst…hyst…hysterectomyyyyyy.”
“Oh honey, you’re going to be fine.”
“No I’m NOT! I’m old and I’m ugly and will soon be missing partssssss.”
I buried my head in the pillow and started crying even louder.
“You’re not old, Shauna. I’m older than you. I’ll be 45 next month.”
“EXACTLY. YOU’RE OLD TOOOOOO.”
“I’m gonna let that slide since you’re obviously unstable. Look at me.”
“No. I’m ugly. And old. And useless after next Tuesday.”
“Next Tuesday? What’s next Tuesday?”
“MY SURGERY. YOU KNOW, THE DAY I BECOME AN IT? NO MORE CHECKING THE BOX MARKED *FEMALE.* DO THEY EVEN HAVE A BOX MARKED *NEITHER*?”
“Shauna, you’re still going to be a woman and you’re still young and you’re absolutely beautiful.”
“You’re just saying that because you have tooooo. AND because you want to get laid.”
“No, I’m saying it because it’s true. And maybe a little bit because of that second thing too.”
His joke, which was intended to make me laugh, sent me into a second dimension ugly cry.
And I think at this point he was unsure what to do. I know this because he went to the well with, “You want me to get you some dark chocolate? That always seems to make you happy.”
I pulled my head out of the pillow then and stopped crying. “That actually sounds pretty awesome right now.”
His expression quickly changed when he saw my face. He looked like he’d just eaten something really sour.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Your makeup. It’s a little smeared.”
He got out of bed and left the room. I walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. A little smeared? Holy shit. I was a mess. An ugly, mascara running, puffy-eyed mess.
I stared at myself in the mirror for a minute. Jiminy Crickets, was I hideous. And is that a ZIT on my chin? Crap. Can nothing go my way?
Tears started to fall again and I thought, what the hell is taking so long with the chocolate?
I forced the tears away and washed my face. When I walked back in the bedroom I was greeted with chocolate. Which made me very happy.
Until I looked up at the TV and saw a tampon commercial.
I burst into tears all over again.
“What is it now? I thought we were moving on?”
“There,” I pointed at the TV. “Right there. Tampons. I’ll never have to buy *those* againnnn.”
Tommy patted me on the back and said, “Won’t you have to buy them for the girls?”
The second he said that I stopped crying and started laughing.
He was right. I *would* still have to buy tampons. Just not for me.
The good news is I stopped crying. For now.
And I’m pretty sure Tommy wants a new wife. Which is totally understandable.
{ 16 comments… read them below or add one }
LMAO! Having similar 'symptoms', I TOTALLY sympathize with you. You & I have a LOT in common Shauna, only I don't require a hysterectomy, so I'll still be a girl.
Meh, I had a hysterectomy at thirty. Trust me, you won't miss it.
Oh honey, just think of all the dark chocolate you can buy with the money you'll save on just one person's "supplies!"
my theory: if you still get zits that means you are still young!! that's what i tell myself and brian when i get one. zits are proof that you are YOUNG!! do you want me to call you every month when i am miserable and laid up with cramps and can't move and can't function!?!?! you will do great. you are as young as you think you are!! take care. you are in my prayers bc i know this is a very emotional time.
Uhmmm… I feel bad for your husband…and for your dad.
It's all gonna be okay.
(love your blogs)
Aw, kitten… it's all good. You've got a great man there… be GLAD to give up the tampons, babe! You're smokin' hot, and wonderful, and everything is right in the world. You know it all. Be good to yourself.
Your poor dad…
Lady, you are beyond beautiful and alllll woman. Honestly, I'd love to not have to buy tampons and mini-lady diapers. Sorry it was forced upon you, but look at the bright side!
since we're headed towards the 't' box- I say we just open up a sister wife/lesbian commune- somewhere tropical would work for me.
Once you get that sponsorship deal, I'm sure your Dad will feel better about the whole thing.
In four weeks before I go in for my hysterectomy I am going to come back and read this again.
I hope you have an uneventful surgery and speedy recovery.
My sweet friend, just think of all the money you will be saving on tampons for yourself, more Pinot for you!!!
Ugh. I have done that before. But, I don’t even have a good surgery excuse.
You are seriously NOT going to miss tampons. Promise.
Girl, I gotta tell you – you are heading into the best years of your life! So long periods and tampons – hello sex whenever you want it! Yes, hot, sticky, passionate, mind blowing orgasm sex – whenever – when – ever – you want it! It’s a sweet trade.
Can I just tell you that I pray every day for my uterus to just finally fall out when i’m walking down the street since I can’t convince an OB that I no longer want it? Please PLEASE ask me about the electroshock therapy tool I was asked to use to *ahem* “strengthen my pelvic floor”. FUCK THE FLOOR, I want all new furniture!
I so totally did this bawling-during-sex thing…at 28…and at 34….and…and….
You, girl, are gonna be fine.
On top of that…..
I think you’re lying about your age.