This week was off to a fabulous start with my visit to the Gyno on Monday. Do you know they take a picture of you now? This was my first visit with this doctor, and I was quite taken aback when the receptionist grabs this skinny probe-looking thing off the counter and says, "smile!" And takes my picture.
I should clarify that it wasn't while I was laying all spread-eagled in the stirrups, but was when I first walked in, and fully dressed.
But still...it was off-putting. Does it help the doc to put a face with the nether-region? Does she like to know who's who and twat's what?
(Hee, hee. Twat. See what I did there?)
In related news, my blood work was "consistent with menopause."
That's the exact words the nurse used. Oh she was a real wordsmith, that one.
I googled the hormone level results to confirm what the nurse said (because the Internet makes us all medical experts), and one website said my levels were "a confirmation of ovarian shutdown."
Ok, now I felt like I just heard it from NASA. "Houston, can you confirm ovarian shutdown?"
But enough about my lady parts.
After my conversation with the nurse, my sister texted me. She was going on about the insects on her fruit plants and I was trying to tell her about my gyno visit and I had to laugh because if someone were to read a snippet of the conversation it looks like I had caterpillars growing in my vagina.
Now, for reals, I'm off the lady parts topic.
It was The Girl's birthday this week. She turned 20. I'm so proud of her. She's come so far in the last several months. Just last year on her birthday we didn't even know where she was. She had gotten out of rehab, relapsed, and disappeared for a month.
So, to be able to spend her birthday with her, and have her be clean and sober for what is 11 months now...was truly a blessing.
And around here we celebrate blessings with pedicures.
Now, I must add that I haven't had a pedicure since my Spain trip, which was March. And I had some calloused, gnarly heels going on. Seriously.
I mean, I knew they were pretty bad, but I didn't realize how bad until I saw the look on my pedicurist's (is that a word??) face when she looked at them:
What was even funnier was watching her as she sanded away at my callouses with the foot grater. I wanted to burst out laughing because the poor woman had the most concentrated, yet disgusted look on her face that I had ever seen.
Then to top it off, she was yanking my foot so high up in the air that I must have looked as ridiculous as she did. I was having flashbacks to my gyno visit.
I sooo wish I could have had my daughter snap a picture. I didn't want the poor woman to think I was making fun of her, so I refrained. She spoke broken English, so I don't know if she would have understood that I was really laughing at myself, not her.
We looked something like this:
|You no wait so long next time! Your feet like Crocodile!|
You'll be relieved to know I tipped her well. She really did do a nice job:
|Old, menopausal, mom toes and young, 20-year old daughter toes|
After getting scolded in Vietnamese, I took my daughter shopping and out to dinner. We had a lovely time, us with our matching, polka-dotted toes.
And that's my frags for this week! Sorry for all the lady-parts talk.
Tell us about your lady-parts and frags and toes and anything else that floats your boat, by linking up over at Halfpastkissintime!