Let this be the sequel to My Vagina: The Revolving Door.
I'm considering a trilogy. But I'm running out of orifices* and let's face it, people, I'm afraid of the direction in which we're heading here.
Since a bunch of people emailed me, complaining that I didn't update after my Wednesday bloodwork/ultrasound appointment** I am taking time from my busy, important life to update the Internet.***
Yesterday I had an ultrasound and another round of bloodwork. Lots of really interesting things happened (natch).
First: the important stuff… I went from 4 big follies on Monday, to TEN big follies and lots of small ones on Wednesday. I would make an excellent hen, bitches! You totally never know how many eggs are going to be in there! I bet I'll go back Friday and there will be 50!
I have no idea what my e2 level is because to tell you the truth? I'm kind of scared of the nurses. Here's how my follow-up phone call goes:
Nurse: Do this and don't ask me any questions
Nurse: Do you have any questions?
Nurse: Damn straight
I don't know why I am afraid of the nurses. I need to grow up. I mean, I can get blood drawn 4 times in one week, I can deal with Nurse Rushy-Rusherson, right?
Two other problematic things happened at my appointment. Both of them my fault (natch).
The Underwear. Again.
I am so bloated that I have to wear dresses every day. So bloated, in fact, that I know there are people at work who literally think I am pregnant and are discussing it. I believe it goes something like this: "Boy, Jen has really tanked up lately." "Yea, what a hoss." "Do you think maybe she's been eating a lot of nachos?" "Maybe, I heard she loves nachos. Maybe she's pregnant, too! I mean, she has been married for two years now – she's not getting any younger! Tick tock!"
Back to my point. I am wearing dresses, which means that underneath I am only wearing underoos and pantyhose. This causes a dilemma in the whole underwear-hiding crusade. Pantyhose are see through, so they don't cover up my underwear to my comfort level like a nice pair of pants. I thought about getting a paper towel from above the sink in the ultrasound room to cover up my underwear. But really, isn't that sort of neurotic? Even just thinking about getting a paper towel to cover up your underwear when you will be showing YOUR VAGINA to the ultrasound tech is neurotic. Why do I care? I just do. I'm weird. It's kind of how I roll.
So, another day, another indecent exposure of underwear and vagina.
Problem #2: Hairy Legs and Short Arms.
I believe that Winter exists partly to provide me with an excuse to only shave my legs once a week (maybe) and partly to give me an excuse to wear my tall boots with dresses and skirts. So what the hell good is Winter when you have to shave your legs every other day for daily meetings with the dildo cam ultrasound wand? What good, I ask you?
In my ongoing quest to be a rebel without a cause, I did not shave my legs because hello?! I just shaved them Monday, and it is only Wednesday, and it is WINTER people! WINTER!
I figured it would not be a big deal, which should've been the trigger in my mind that it would be a big deal (in my mind anyway). Am a bad judge of what will and will not be a big deal, apparently.
The regular ultrasound lady is on vacation (In Paris. Am jealous) so there are a few different ladies filling in. I've seen a different one every visit, all of them are pretty nice. The lady I saw on Monday was slower than fucking Moses, and made me 15 minutes late for work. The lady yesterday was fast and I was out of there by 7:10 (my appointment was at 7). So, as you can imagine, I was about the ask the Wednesday lady to be my new best friend.
However, I have one slight complaint: her arms are short. NOT that there's anything wrong with that! I'm clocking in at 5 foot nothing, and my legs are as long as most people's arms, so I am down with the vertically challenged. So the problem with the short arms is that it interfered with my plan to get away with not shaving my legs.
My plan was foiled, Scooby Doo style.
Since her arms were short, she was rubbing against my HAIRY ASS leg while moving the wand around and looking at the ultrasound screen. I'm sure she came away with severe gashes on her right arm. Because seriously, I could've used a shave. Lesson learned (maybe. Unless I want to sleep in next time…).
I can't wait to see how my clowncar ovaries are looking tomorrow! It would be so fun if I got to trigger. But I seriously doubt it.
*Right? What the hell is the plural of orifice? Whatever.
**I made that up.
***I actually took time from sitting on my ass and watching Scrubs reruns. "Busy" and "Important" are relative terms, I think.