NSFL: uterine artery embolization is horrible and disgusting PART II

when last we saw our heroine (that’s me), she was smacked out in a hydromorphone haze, leaving her bed only to go to the bathroom (and frequently), get water or juice, or take more pills. i couldn’t walk my dog (trusty nurse zak to the rescue!), put on pants, or eat food of any kind.

at this point, the only major pain was in the gaps between pills if i overslept or forgot. i can’t tell you how many times during those first few days i couldn’t remember whether or not i actually took my pill or not. sort of like those groggy mornings where you can’t remember if you shampooed your hair or not. unfortunately, i would have to err on the side of not taking the pill at all- rather than take a double dose. poisoning myself is a slightly greater concern than too squeaky hair.

but then on tuesday, i sort of woke up. mostly lucid for the first time in days, my first thought was- WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH MY MOUTH?

again, if you’re about to bite into a big sandwich or you want to ask me out on a date- now is the time to debark the story.

looking a little pastie.

a couple of months ago, i took my top off in a bar full of strangers and lived to tell the tale. i promised to give you all the full rundown sometime in the indeterminate future… well, that future is now- and this piece is 2 STRUTs for the price of one (one as a STRUTter and one as a not so casual observer). it’s posted on over at the observer, but their direct link is a little screwy right now, so you can find the piece in its entirety below. and in case you’re local and didn’t get a chance to see/feel/taste/participate in the carnage that was my  STRUT performance, i’ll be shakin it one final time tomorrow (october 14th) at geno’s. come support/join/ogle me, or at least come point and laugh.

Confessions of a late night STRUTter- A lesson in bringing it.

As a woman on a firm trajectory toward her mid-thirties who packed on an extra 30 lbs. 2 years ago and is still using “I got divorced” as an excuse for her somewhat doughy physique, one might not guess that I’d be jumping at the chance to get mostly naked in a room full of strangers. Two months ago, I probably wouldn’t have guessed that either. But then, burlesque happened.