So, big news, two weeks ago I had the last remnants of my nonfunctional girl plumbing removed. By force. I hung on to those parts for as long as possible, but in the end, we had to call in very expensive plumbers to rip out the pipes.
Such a removal results in one of two scenarios: You grow a mustache and stop sleeping or you get whore-moan replacement. Guess which one I picked. (Hint: facial hair makes me squeamish. Even on him.)
Today I went to - I shit you not - The Pellet Center. I felt like a Grizzly volunteering to be tagged. (CG1 has been threatening to have me pelletized for years. Well, sister, Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday - it finally happened).
They take me into the little room, I joke with the nurse about growing a mustache, she weighs me, I do a dance because I've lost five pounds, and then the (female) doctor walks in and it's all business. Until....
Doc: (blood work results in hand) Wow! It's a good thing you got in here today because you are a trainwreck waiting to happen.
Me: I beg your pardon?
Doc: Your readings are (direct quote) a crazy mess. How are you dealing with your symptoms? Are you sleeping? Are you depressed, anxious, irritable, flushed?
Me: Nope. I was just telling your nurse that I'm amazed I don't feel any different than I did before the surgery.
Doc: (nodding, knowingly) Because you felt so bad before the surgery.
Me: No, except for the pain, I would never have known anything was wrong.
Doc: (confused) You feel no different than you did two weeks ago?
Me: I don't feel any different than I did 10 years ago.
Doc: (blatantly skeptical, not even trying to hide it) It is not possible that you feel no different than you did before. Your levels...are a mess. You need help.
Me: So maybe that's why I'm such a bitch?
Doctor has nothing to say to that.
Memo from the Greek chorus: It is never wise to use an expletive in front of people you don't know when in a very conservative, small, conservative, close-knit, conservative community. People might get the wrong impression about you. Fuck people.
Me: So what you're telling me is that what is 'normal' to me, is actually completely screwed up.
Doc: That seems to be the case, but don't you worry. We're going to get you fixed up.
Me: Not to be disrespectful or...weird...but you aren't going to make me....nice...are you?
Doctor looks at me.
Me: I don't really trust nice people. I wouldn't know what to do if I was nice.
Doctor looks at me, nurse is about to tinkle herself laughing.
Me: I'd rather have the mustache.
Doc: Pull down your pants.
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