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1:35 p.m. - 2010-09-28
Random Tuesday

Things on my mind:

How a few minutes ago I told the ex (who'd stopped by my office to ask me to feed his cat for a few days) that I was going in for surgery on Monday and he never even asked what it was for.

This is not because he is my ex, this is how he always was. No wonder I felt like a piece of insignificant crap all those years. No asking why I was having surgery. No well wishes. Nada. Please look up 'asshole' in the dictionary. See that picture? It's my ex.

I am sorry the guy is dead, but the irony of the Segway guy driving off a cliff on one gives me the giggles.

So it turns out I'm not the only one with a stink bug problem. Since I've been at war with those awful things for the past four years this puts me ahead of the curve, but honestly being on the leading edge of the stink bug invasion is a dubious honor at best.

Cap'n Crunch Peanut Butter cereal is as good as I remembered. I have a box of it here on my desk. It's the snack du jour. Yes, I almost always eat cereal dry right out of the box. My cereal, btw, not the communal cereal which lives in the kitchen. That I manage to keep my grubby mitts out of, so if you overnight here and want cereal for breakfast no worries that I've been rummaging around in it with my bare hands.

I went back to using the prone leg lift machine at the gym. My formerly cute dimpled ass has grown to look more like the surface of the moon, that is if the moon was rather soft and jiggly. (No pun intended about the ass/moon thing.)

All the pre-op stuff is being done tomorrow. Nobody from the hospital had called me so I called them. The woman on the other end seemed mildly surprised that no one had contacted me before this, vaguely muttered something about finding out what was going on and rang off without saying good-bye. My, my, that's all kinds of inspiring. Really glad I'm putting my life in their hands.

Someone did call me back. A different woman from the one I initially spoke to. She, at least, seemed appalled over her department's flub. Was most accommodating and got me hooked up with appointments for a chest x-ray, an EKG, blood work, medical history, and promised to bring me an anesthesiologist who speaks English to discuss my options. After nearly being killed by the Asian gas-passer during the C-section and having him stop by recovery hours later and smirk, "You big as horse. Give too much. But you velly velly big. Who knew?" Uh, you should have? I had told you during the pre-op consult but I guess your Engrish was even lousier than I thought.

It's one thing if the guy mowing my lawn has limited English comprehension, it's quite another for a fucking doctor.


Though I am dead certain I don't want any more kids, I had a bad moment or two yesterday when I realized I am giving up my fertility. My grip on being a real girl is shaky anyhow, but at least I was able to produce babies. Now I won't. Oddly my feelings about other women and their ability to squirt out the offspring never comes into the equation. I don't use gestation as criteria for anyone but myself. I've known two male-to-female transsexuals and they were just as much of a female as I am, more really, they chose to become women, whereas I only slide in on the margins. As in I have to sit when I pee and don't have a beard. I was also going to put in I accessorize really well and can walk in heels, but so can Carson Kressley. Heh.

Anyhoodle, about being a Fertile Myrtle. I never realized before that I used it as such a touchstone when I go through bouts of feeling un-femme. I yoink up my shirt and look down at the stretch marks from Alex and the scar where they unzipped me to get Wolf out and think, "I grew babies in there! I can make babies! I could make another one right now! Yup, I'm a real girl."

By this time next week that will no longer be true. Might as well hang a sign in front of my zorch saying, "This Site Condemned." So baby making will be out. And when my ovaries shut down in the next year or two I just might start growing a beard.


At least I'll always have to sit down to pee. I'll have that going for me.

Ha. Ha. Ha. ~LA

8 Wanna talk about it!

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