I had one last fuck... and then I didn't



It doesn't hurt and that's a bit of a problem because if it doesn't hurt, itch, irritate, or otherwise constantly remind me of its presence I don't know it's there. From the moment they took the tubes out, I lost that 24/7 sort of awareness that something pretty massive was going on.

This is my favorite photo, by the way. It's badasss as hell. Nobody is messing with that woman least of all, that woman. That woman is loaded for bear and ready to go. That woman is rather pleased with herself. That woman has things to do, people to see, places to go, and and and...

With regard to timing, this is a couple days old. The stitches came out this morning, the little bandaides are gone, and the swelling and bruising have continued to have their way with my entire head. I'm extra lopsided at the moment but that won't last, it'll just migrate until it's done.

When will it be done? I have no idea. I'm a bleeder. For those of you who aren't bleeders, this means I don't clot easily and have to be careful of the sort of NSAIDS I consume because once cut, I bleed. And bleed. And bleed. It's not bad enough to be dangerous (unless I'm being an idiot) but it's periodically inconvenient. It means that swelling takes longer to subside and black eyes feel like forever. Pre-menopause, it almost killed me. Twice. I will be forever grateful for that one A Negative donor back in 2003...

So. The last post was a doozy. Thanks to all the flipped out my generation feminists for unleashing privately. I appreciate not having to respond to your rage. Don't get me wrong, I get it. I really do, but I think my rage might just have trumped yours - as in, you get off telling me what I can and can't do with my body how? Exactly? Seriously. Take a breath, the battle is bigger than that.

I noticed, for the most part, that a lot of assumptions where made. Because I chose not to tell you why, you decided you knew why. OK. Fair enough but I'm going to suggest that you don't know and you don't need to know. All you need to know is that you made an assumption that may have no grounding in reality. I'm ok with that too (see: none of yo bidness).

Here comes the fun part (there is always a fun part).

I took a week off. Actually, I took two weeks off and I'm just beside myself. I can do anything! I can go anywhere! I can hang out on the mountain with my Meemaw all day long if I feel like it. I can do the things my builder would REALLY like me to do. None of these are things I like doing because I don't like shopping but there are bathtubs to be located, stoves to be acquired (of the sort that will heat my house), and actual Christmas shopping of the local variety.

I've been trying to get myself to Burlington, but I really don't care much for Burlington and I've managed to avoid it so far. That will last until Elizabeth arrives because Elizabeth LOVES Burlington (of course she does) and I wouldn't say no to that woman. In the meantime there are plenty of vendors to freak out right next door.

Here's something I learned. People around here (probably everywhere) are super polite. Nobody stares at me, nobody asks, nobody makes me feel uncomfortable. I don't know what I expected but it wasn't what I got and I probably shouldn't be enjoying this so much. But I am.

I was trying to acquire a wood burning stove yesterday. I spent almost an hour with a lovely young man next town over. I had a lot of questions, he had answers. What he was short on was focus and I just couldn't figure out why. Eventually I gave up. I took some literature and said I'd call. Thing is, I have a car full of literature collected from people who would like to sell me something but just can't seem to pull it together.

I was confused, but not worried. After all, I'm the middle of two whole weeks off!

I drove into Bristol, which is technically my town and spent about twenty minutes in one of my favorite shops and I had a fine time. I bought a local candle and a not so local calendar and giggled myself out the door and into my next favorite shop. I think we made it five minutes before she broke. Maybe.


Not a quiet question. A LOUD OHMYGOD WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE question.

Me: What?!

Her: What do you mean, what?!

Me: I mean, what?

Her: Are. You. Oh. Kay?

Me: Um. yup. Why?


There was a mirror on the counter and I happened to glance into said mirror and that's when all hell broke lose and someday I will be genuinely and appropriately sorry.


Her: .......

Me: I'm fine. I'm really sorry. That was inappropriate. It's just that, I forgot.

Her: You forgot?!

Me: Well. It doesn't hurt and I can't see it.

Her: What happened?

Me: Happened? Uh, I just had massively major reconstructive surgery and this is the current state of affairs. It will get better.

Her: OK. I'm sorry.

Me: No sorries, I'm running around this town like life is good with a face that says possibly otherwise. I forgot. Not the first time and it won't be the last. 

I bought a tshirt and went home and on the way home I catagloged all the poeple I'd come in contact with since Monday when the tubes came out. 

I slept badly (karma), got up early and got my stitches out. Later I had a call with my boss because we needed to touch base before all hell breaks loose again. We've known each other a long time. OK, in contractor years, 18 months is approximate to ten years or a five year marriage. There were no surprises. I've been completely transparent with him. He made it three minutes before he begged to have the camera turned off. 

I am looking forward to my return to Cambridge and I am looking for a good concealer because I just don't think he's going to cope well.