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#And the pain I just suffered was the worst my vagina ever went through
diamondorloj · 3 years
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Terrible tmi but I'm suffering so someone has to as well: don't be like me but use your brain while on your period, DO NOT insert tampon before removing other tampon that you forgot about.....
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belit0 · 3 years
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Madara making his s/o squ1rt + Daddy k1nk. 
Request for the anon who asked this a while ago, here you go, more of my brother. I get it, he’s hot, but damn y'all crazy for him.
Writer added daddy k1nk cause she wanted to.
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You are sitting in Madara's office, wrapping up some envelopes with documents to surprise him with the gesture. You're trying to be a good girl, you were misbehaving last week and your neck shows the marks of how he made his grip on you, it hurts to sit down and swallow is a difficult task. Helping him through his work while he's in a meeting is a way of proving you are willing to stop being a brat and start behaving.
It really is boring. Seal a paper, put it in its envelope, close it, make sure the Uchiha symbol is neat, repeat. A monotonous little routine that seems to never end. The pile of documents seems to grow as time goes by, and all you want to do is get out of that room.
You love Madara's office, it is one of his favorite places to fuck you, on his desk, on his work. Secretly, you suspect that it gives him special pleasure if he takes you over paperwork that is related to the Senju clan. His big velvet chair is the most comfortable piece of the whole house, padded and soft. The most suitable furniture for your battered thighs.
Wearing a T-shirt of him and only your underwear, you caress the material under your body, feeling the softness and comfort of sitting without experiencing pain. The Uchiha did not used to give you such severe punishments, and for that to be the case, it is because you had been out of place. As when you humiliated him in front of his brother a few days ago, describing a moment of vulnerability that had to be kept private.
The problem was that you came across a peculiar situation, something never before witnessed in your eyes, which awakened your curiosity and generated the need to ask Izuna about your man's past. It was a lazy morning, where both of you were just waking up after an intense night almost without sleep. You went into the bathroom as any person would, without noticing that he was there taking a piss. When you made yourself present, his inspiration was immediately gone, he got frustrated and threw you out in a huff. Without understanding what his problem was, you analyzed what happened, and discovered that you had never shared the bathroom simultaneously. Of course, to brush teeth and take a shower, but not to use the toilet. Did Madara have a trauma with peeing? Izuna would probably know.
After asking his younger brother, who seemed strangely happy when you told him about it and did not stop laughing throughout the story, the older Uchiha began to be harassed by the younger one every time he tried to go to the bathroom. Somehow Izuna was always behind him when he tried to pee, making him angry and forcing him to stop.
Because of the torture your man suffered thanks to your curious mind, the worst punishment ever given in the history of your relationship appeared without warning, making you endure more spankings in one night than you thought you were capable of. But his resentment continued for days, and your perverse attitude did not help the cause.
That's why you had made the decision to behave at least for as long as it took your buttocks to lose the bruises he caused. Being bratty with him is something you are passionate about, but now you only have the option to behave well and obey because technically you owe it to him.
There are still too many documents to be sealed, but you hear the front door opening and closing, and that makes your attention focus on that part of the house. You know your man has arrived, and in a apparently better mood, as you hear him whistling a tune as his footsteps echo down the hall. The first destination he visited was the bedroom, and you smile at the fact that he thought he would find you there, resting from his lesson.
"[Y/N]?"
He asks generally towards the house, hoping to hear your voice from somewhere to find out where you are. But to gloat and annoy him, even a little, you prefer to keep quiet and continue closing letters, completely ignoring his presence.
You feel him calling you several more times, climbing the stairs, going out to the patio, searching in several rooms. Why would he expect you to be in his office? You would have nothing to do there when he is not at home. It is the last place he checks, and when he opens the doors, there is a slight sign of concern in his features.
Of course, you can't help but smirk at this, it's the most you can play with him without provoking more punishment for your body. You watch him with narrowed eyes and without ceasing to work.
"What do you think you are doing? It's not funny."
"Was it a little, wasn't it?"
"Haven't you had enough? Do you really need more?"
"No! Of course not! Look, I'm trying to make up for it, I'm being a good girl for you daddy."
"I don't know, are you?"
Having said that, he enters his office and heads behind his desk, to where you are sitting. You know this means he wants you to sit on his lap, so you get up and let him settle into the seat before you climb onto him.
You try to kiss him, but he stops you.
"Keep working, you're not done."
Obeying, you seal a document, and when you want to take an envelope to put the paper and leave it closed, it is Madara who holds it in his hands in front of your mouth.
"Put the document in and close it with your mouth."
"B-But..."
"Do you want to have Daddy angry?"
"No..."
"Go ahead. No hands."
You insert the paper into the packet, and as the Uchiha indicated, you slide your tongue around the edge of the packaging, from one of his fingers to the other. When you reach the other end, his digit goes into your mouth without warning and smoothly. The task you were performing falls forgotten on the desk.
"Suck it well, show me what a good little girl you are.”
Pleasing your man, you stick your back to his chest, leaning your head over his shoulder while your tongue dances on his finger and fills it with saliva, giving him little sounds of approval. A second one enters your cavity, and you begin to move your head back and forth as if you were working on his cock, feeling his eyes on your lips.
"I think my baby has missed her milk bottle, hasn't she?”
Nodding on his lap, you feel like a hand is moving your underwear, and taking his wet fingers out of your mouth, he directs them towards your pussy, massaging the outside and wetting you completely.
“I'm still very sensitive..."
"Don't worry baby, I don't plan on messing with your tiny clit today. Daddy will teach you how to go to the bathroom.”
With those words, his two fingers are pushed inside you mercilessly, positioning themselves in the shape of a claw and rubbing that thin membrane on the top of your stomach that simply made you curl up and close your thighs over his arm.
"Open your legs or I'll have to spank you again, you bad girl.”
Moaning uncontrollably, with your head tilted back and sliding over his lap, your vagina makes watery noises every time Madara's knuckles hit your outer lips. Your feet are suddenly on his knees, allowing him better access, and with his arms he forces your thighs to stay apart, while his free hand runs to the side your soaked underwear.
"D-D-DAD-DY!"
Spasms run through your body and no coherent thought crosses your mind, you don't even care that your juices are dripping from your cunt and staining the upholstery of your man's chair, as he keeps his legs open along with yours. You're intoxicated in those digits working wonders on that magic point in your body, while the punch of his fist somehow also manages to act as a masturbation for your punished and over-stimulated clit.
You can no longer resist it.
"What's the matter girlie, do you feel like going to the restroom? Come on, do it on my hand, give all your fluids to dad."
With a final scream, a stream of liquid flows from your pussy, smoothly and strongly, hitting Madara's hand and landing on the floor. The Uchiha exerts pressure with his fingers inside you until the liquid stops pouring and your body stops shaking, leaving you exhausted over him and unable to gather strength to care about the mess left in his office.
"Oh no... what a bad girl... what a bad, bad girl... look what you did on the floor... I will have to teach you another lesson..."
"B-B-But-I..."
"But? You said, but? You have some serious behavioral problems. Come here, Daddy will fix you up."
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escapewithbts · 3 years
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That Time of the Month - Hoseok
Quick warning: Mentions of sex/sexual things but honestly it’s still pretty PG13 :)
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"Ohhhh goddd."
You laid in your boyfriend's bed in a fetal position, clutching your lower stomach.
"Jagi?" your boyfriend Hoseok peered at you from behind his computer at the sound of your groaning, "What's wrong?"
You groaned again in response.
He got up from his desk, walked over to the side of the bed you were facing and squatted down in front of you.
"Hi my beautiful jagiya," he smiled, rubbing the side of your face gently with his thumb, "What seems to be the problem? Dr. Hobi-ah is here to help."
You chuckled slightly but winced again when it hurt.
"Dr. Hobi... it's... it's that time of the month. My cramps are the worst they've been in a while."
J-hope stood up and ran his hand through his thick black hair.
"Aiiiishhh..." he mummbled.
His typical male reaction made you smile.
He exhaled but looked down at you with a comforting face.
"Luckily for you, my (y/n), I grew up with not only an older sister, but a young mother as well. I know how to take care of this!"
With that he ran out of the room, leaving you alone with your aching abdomen.
"Okay, jagi," he came back a few minutes later with a pen and pad of paper in his hands, "What can I go out and get ya?"
You shook your head and sunk deeper into the mattress.
"You don't have to go anywhere, Hobi, I know you have work to do. I'll be okay..."
He dropped his long arms to his side and gave you a stern look.
"Nope. You're my jagi and you're suffering. When my sister was feeling like this my mom always made me run to the store and get her things. Even though I didn't really understand, it seemed to make her feel better... So I'm doing the same for you. Now tell me, my sweet, what do you need?"
You knew J-hope was stubborn, especially about taking care of you, so you didn't bother to argue any further.
You closed your eyes and thought about what it was you wanted and needed.
"Uhhh, some Tylenol please. Hot tea. A heating pad." your voice got softer, "tampons..."
Hoseok laughed and leaned down to kiss your nose.
"Oh love, you don't have to be shy about that. They're just cotton things that go up your vagina," he paused, "hell, I've even been up your vagina! It's nothing to be ashamed of!"
You grabbed the pillow next to you and threw it weakly at him as he grinned cheekily.
"Hobi-ahhhh!”
He chuckled and squatted down in front of you again, his face much closer to yours this time.
"(y/n)," he kissed your lips softly and it made you moan, "I'm going to go get these things and then I'll be right back, okay?"
You nodded in response and buried yourself further under the covers.
J-hope ran his hand down the side of your face and kissed your cheek.
"I love you. I'll be back. Get some more rest if you feel like it."
Then he stuffed his phone in the back pocket of his light wash jeans and walked out of the bedroom.
"Careful, jagi, it's a bit hot," Hoseok walked back into the bedroom about an hour later holding a mug of hot tea.
You sat up and took the warm mug, putting the rim to your lips and letting the sweet, hot liquid run down your throat.
"Mmmmm.." you moaned in approval.
Hoseok sat down on the bed next to you and rubbed your shoulder gently.
"I'm glad you like it," he said.
"Thank you, Hobi-ah, for getting all this for me," you said softly.
He leaned forward and kissed the side of your head.
"Anything for you, love. It puts me in pain to see you in pain."
There was a content pause as you sipped more of your tea.
"I think some girls got pictures of me at the store," he told you.
You raised your eyebrows.
"Oh yeah? What's the headline accompanying those pictures going to be?"
He smiled and shrugged.
"Hmm.. 'J-Hope Buys Tampons: Real Gender Confirmed?’''
You laughed and placed the mug on the bedside stand next to you.
Then you turned back to him, leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips.
"Well I think it should be 'Jung Hoseok: The Best Boyfriend Ever'..."
J-hope smiled and laid down next to you. He looked up at you and ran his fingers up and down your arm.
"Come here," he whispered, gesturing with his hands for you to lay on his chest.
You instantly obliged, laying down beside him and scooting close into the little nook where his arm and chest meet. It was your favorite spot.
He stroked your hair and kissed your forehead as you two laid there in a peaceful silence, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed softly.
After a while you broke the silence.
"Hobi-ah," you whined, poking his ribs.
"Hmmm?" he mumbled, his eyes closed.
"Hobi-ahhhh," you repeated, shuffling around to press your body more into his.
"Yes, jagi?” He chuckled slightly, finally glancing down at you, “May I help you?"
You moved to lay on top of him, chest to chest, playing with the fabric of his shirt.
"I'm kind of... turned on," you murmured.
Hoseok's eyebrows went up and he smiled playfully at you.
"I'm sorry, you're what?" he teased.
You rolled your eyes and punched him gently.
"You heard me... I think it's the hormones. They make me want it more when I'm on my period. How unfair is that?"
J-hope thought for a second as his hand traveled up and down your backside.
"First of all, it's incredibly sexy when you tell me you're horny, especially since you're so shy and cute about it. Second, that is unfair, however, there's always shower sex, you know..."
You looked into his lustful brown eyes then back down at your hands.
"I've never had shower sex before," you admitted, "You would have to be gentle and slow."
Hoseok lifted his head up and gave you a surprised look, his lips parted open.
"I would be, of course jagiya, but wait, you actually want to?"
You shrugged.
"Why not?"
He grinned at you and kissed your nose.
"You're the best girlfriend ever."
You rolled your eyes in response and started to get off the bed.
"Hey, hey, wait a second!" he protested, grabbing your hand so you couldn't walk away.
"What?" you smiled down at his handsome face.
He swiftly got off the bed and before you knew it you were lifted off the ground, letting out a small yelp as he scooped you up in his arms.
You wrapped your arms around his neck and giggled as he led both of you into the adjoining bathroom.
*
Masterlist
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plantsrmyhappyplace · 4 years
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I’m new to this, I don’t know what to do. Is this anonymous?
I feel like there is really a lack of support for people with herpes. It’s been a few hard days. I’m feeling lots of guilt and anger toward The Guy.
It’s been a month since we were both diagnosed. I broke out first and was hardly sick,he got way sick. So the month has been hard because we went from wanting to be casual to this all because things got too hot and heated and we didn’t use a condom. We talked our status and decided we were clean based on recent testing, but to use condoms but things kept being too hot.
I’m going to start from the top because I have to get it all out!
December ‘19 the guy I was sleeping with texted me and told me he “burned himself by his pelvic region cooking bacon” He proceed to also say went and got testing and come back positive for HSV1. Well we were both drunk and he’s telling me about going to the Dr after all this. I’m like you sure you’re not lying about the burn and he reassured me.
A few days later I had a sore so I went to my Dr right away. She didn’t think it looked like herpes and refused to swab it based on that, but asked if I got cold sores (I don’t) and did blood work. It’s important to note that I had told her that the condom we had used was really dry and hurt so bad we had to stop.
My blood work came back positive to HSV and that I was having an active outbreak at 0.87 lab value. I started valtrax and tumbled in to depression trying to accept my new life. Of course after all this, the guy stopped talking to me so that really enforced that I was positive.
However I always knew I didn’t have it. I didn’t have any of the symptoms and I was pretty sure that I had tore. But I kept having bumps after I shaved. I investigate my vagina all the time, compared pictures, and did tons of research.
I found out that my blood work never distinguish between HSV 1 or 2 and that my “active outbreak” is considered a negative level.
When I finally got the balls in May to get retested I went to Planned Parenthood and retold the story. The Dr reassured me that I didn’t have herpes. She refused to swab me confident that I suffer from razor burn. I begged her to test my blood and come back positive for HSV 1 positive (surprise) and HSV 2 negative.
I can not explain the relief! The sigma attached to it, I didn’t have to deal with, but here I could be an advocate and understanding to people that are positive.
I still hadn’t regained my confidence, but was ready to conquer the world again and over come this and other things that I’m self conscious about.
Well The Guy is my neighbor who has pursed me for sometime. I kindly rejected him, because I wasn’t interested, but at the time I thought I had herepes. He didn’t let up and all this sexual tension built between us some how and well here we are, both of us are positive.
We decided not to play the blame game, to support each other through this. Well where the fuck is he? Not supporting me! I mean I can’t blame him, it’s been a hard month. He was so sick and had so much pain, then got a kidney stone, and is falling in to depression. I think he blames me because I broke out first. I blame him because I had blood work showing I was HSV2 negative. He claims to have had testing 3 partners ago, not sure if they tested for HSV, but he asked for everything and was negative, oh and lets not forget he had a Tinder one night stand 3-4 weeks before. I on the other hand haven’t had protected sex for 6 month and unprotected for a year. So what just having sex “triggered” me to outbreak as the carrier? I don’t believe it!
So yeah I wanted his support because now were in this together. But he’s ghosted me and now I’m just ANGRY and feeling guiltily.
Why the fuck couldn’t he just leave me alone when I said I wasn’t interested, we could be alone dealing with herpes ourselves (whoever was the carrier), I could be living my life oblivious and working on myself! I’m so mad at him, I want to bust in to his apartment and yell at him. And honestly guys want the fuck is with the narrative, ‘I can’t cum with a condom on.’??? Well figure it out because I want to be safe, but I also want to get you off.
But really the worst part is that I’m over here beating myself up. Did I learn nothing from before? How could I be so stupid to not use a condom when I knew better, when I want to practice safe sex, and I was so afraid of actually getting herpes because of the way it made me feel when I was misdiagnosed and the stigma. Most of all, why I am I so trusty and falling for another guys bull shit. SO FUCKING STUPID!!!!!!
So yeah I’m having a hard time. I do have a friend who is positive that I have reached out to, but I don’t want to bother her with my spiraling out of control thoughts.
Yes I’m going to start counseling. But mostly I wish there was more support. I don’t need to be told its just a skin condition, its not a big deal, lots of people have it.
I GET IT!
I’m talking support like:
How do you feel better about yourself?
Are the dating apps for positive people good?
How do I tell my partners?
How do I deal with rejection?
Can I ever get eaten out again? Only if he’s positive?
What’s the risk of passing it on without sexual contact? This is my most irrational fear! I work with an extremely venerable population of babies. What if I don’t wash my hands well enough and they get it and die? What if my nieces or nephews get it from linen, poor hand washing, sitting on my lap? What if someone else gets it?
Why does the thought of viral shedding worry e so much in every day life?
Why do I feel so gross even though I’m clean?
Who do I tell besides partners?
Do I start suppression medication?
Am I going to breakout all the time because I hardly got sick?
I’M SPIRALING!!!!
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futurewriter2000 · 3 years
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Journal entry (21.11.2020)
Something to get off my chest.
I was afraid to write this on Tumblr because I don’t want people to think that I’m always complaining and trying to make others pity me but fuck what people hink because this is my blog and I can write anything I want. It’s for my own benefit. 
I want to talk about my family and I don’t know why but it’s been bugging me so much lately. It might be the lack of sleep but every night before I go to bed I feel this sad ball in my throat and this anger forming in the bottom of my stomach because I couldn’t believe how my family manipulated me through life. And I get it, manipulating a kid when it’s still a kid. The innocent manipulation, like going to the dentists and santa claus will not give you presents if you don’t clean your room (even though I’m a Muslim and don’t celebrate Christmas) but just an example. 
And my parents were strict, both of them my whole childhood and teenage years. It’s now that I’m 20 that both of them sort of softened up but you know what? I feel like that doesn’t give me any justice. 
I hate my dad. I hate my mum too for doing this to me; using my lifelong childhood wish, the one you just wanted your whole life, you know. And mine was a bit dumb but I had always wanted to rescue a dog from a shelter and I always wanted to adopt the oldest one, the one that was there the longest because I know I don’t have much time with them but I want them to feel home. I want them to feel what home is, at least once in their life. I don’t want to buy an expensive purse dog that will literally get home with a snap of a fingers. No, I want to rescue the dog that looks a bit different from other dogs because it’s a mix of breeds and was a cast out. I know he’s probably traumatized from life but I want him or her to feel love. I want to share that love with someone who will appreaciate it and I believe that dogs, as loyal as they are, deserve so much more love then they are given. I had always wanted a dog. For myself and for that specific dog because I just know how much of a dog can mean in one life time but our time is long but theirs is short and I just want them to have a taste of life when all they are, are locked inside a cage. 
That was my unfulfiled wish since I was 7 years old. And now I’m 20 years old and still dogless. Not one dog. But I think the cruelest thing my dad ever did to me was promise me a dog when I was so weak. I was studying for my final exams and I was beyond exhausted. Beyond I just wanted to sleep for months in my bed but he came, promising me a dog- how I deserve it, how I wished for it and that night I wept for three hours from joy but you know what happened?
I realised what he wanted. 
He wanted a dog. He wanted a specific dog breed from Bosnia with a black head and white body. It was that specific. He wanted the furry one, big one... 
And know we have a flat and that dog is meant to be outside because it’s a dog that protects the house. That dog breed is a protector, not just a pet to lay all day in a flat and I just knew that this breed of dog would be miserable in this flat... with us....
I think I cried when my sister told me that dad said; “It’s her dog but I choose the breed and I choose what dog.”
But the choice was part of my wish. I wanted a rescue, not a specific breed. That wouldn’t be my dog. That dog would be his wish, not mine and I think that I cried so much that night at this realisation that he had manipulated me yet again because it still brings such pain and suffering for me. Hope... I had hope, man. I always have hope and that hope is always faded into the dark pit of disappointment. It’s like somebody kicked a child and that child is me- the child in me is so brutally burnt, kicked, punched, broken constantly and I think that was the last straw for my dad. 
Maybe that’s why I’m so petty and rude to him. Because he had just done me so wrong throughout life (besides this stupid dog wish he had done plenty of things that police would have to take care of but never did because we never called the police).
I guess, I can’t with my mom either. She just left me here. She promised me she’ll take me with her but she just left. That shit hurts like a motherfucker man. 
And my sister? She’s the worst, right behind my dad because she had always made me feel less than I am. She ruined my self-confidence, she had crushed me emotionally and the reason I am shy, the reason I don’t do half of the things is because of her. I hate when people say, we’re sisters, we’re supposed to love each other. I can’t love somebody like this. I do love her but every day less cuz every day she makes me feel less. She had never motivated me, only brought me down, she was never there. It was always her friends more than me, her more than me... I can’t open up, I used to hate my breasts because they are a bit bigger, much bigger than hers and every time she saw them she made a nasty comment about it and said they were disgusting. My breasts are normal. They are beautiful. I finally realised that my body image is my business- my breasts are my business. She hated everything on my body so I hated it too. I hated my body so much because of her. My teeth, my ears, my hands, my breasts, my stomach, my legs, thighs, my eyebrows, my chin, my lips, my voice, my laugh, even my vagina man... how can you be that cruel to a girl who’s going through puberty. She was so cruel and the worst part is that she never realised that. She still doesn’t just how ignorant she is. 
I became cold after I turned 16. Not because I wanted to. I just thought I was so cold all the time. I felt like I had nothing to offer, not my knowledge, not desire, not joy, not pride... nothing... and that was like a constant pain that everybody never saw but made fun of. 
My dad made fun of my passion for art and music, even my biggest passion like writing. 
My mum never believed in me. Never. She thought I would fall apart and that she can fix me into a person she wants me to be. I was not supposed to suffer like her but she wanted me to in a way. Not in a bad way, she just wanted me to constantly be a chair for her to sit on, always by her side but I was falling apart and she wasn’t there. She left... And it was not the leaving that broke me... it was the fact that she promised that she’ll find us a home and take me with her but now it’s gonna be 3 years from that promise and I went through ton shit with my dad and I’m planning to go to the capital next year. I don’t ever want to live here.
My sister made me hate myself. She was the pretty sister, the smart sister, the responsible sister and every time I wanted to come out of her shadow, she pushed me right back in. She got more than me, she’s the princess in the family and well, I’m appereantly the bad guy in the family. 
You see, nobody in my family, nobody, not my cousins, not anybody... nobody believes I grew out of that kid. Of that kid that lied and kept making a rucus in the house. That kid was gone by the age of 11 and family never meant family to me. 
My best friend’s (at the time- 2 years ago) family was felt more home and family than my own family .Do you know how fucked up that is? 
I can never forgive my dad for 13. 4. 2018 and 7. 9. 2018. Those days are the most clear days in my life and I hate them both. I just can’t seem to forget them... I can’t forgive my dad period. I feel like I will always be angry with him because he created this ugly flaws in me that come out when he’s around and god I hate them. 
I say that leaving my family will be the happiest day in my life. I feel like I could just disappear into the world and never look back. Not to anybody in my life. Not to my “friends”, not to “family”- I’d just leave and throw away my phone and throw away my past and just live like I have the world in my hands. 
But of course, I’m not heartless and I would reach out to my mom. I know she didn’t mean to do the things she did to me- the bad things I mean. She is actually someone really strong. She had much worse life then me, twice or three tim much worse life and she never deserved what she got with my dad. She sacrifcied so much and I love her for that. Maybe she left me but I would never leave her. 
So, yeah. Let’s disappear. 
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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years
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the small intestines squirm like eels
[Tour!verse]
TW: Period talk
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Joan wasn’t feeling good in the first place.
She groaned before her eyes were even open that morning. She cringed when she rolled over, feeling hot slickness between her thighs, and didn’t even want to look at the crime scene that she already knew was lying beneath her blankets. Remaining in the mess, however, was plain gross. It was going to be painful to stand, but if she lays in bed for too long then the fabric will stain, so she has no other choice but to haul herself up and save the bedding.
As if it were that easy.
Joan liked to describe the feeling she just went through as “the floodgates opening” because that’s exactly what it was. She was forced to kneel when the pain flares up, which only seemed to strengthen the flow when her knees parted and her vagina seemed to feel the need to open like a window during a hurricane. She prayed for her ruined undergarments and pajama shorts, which are sticky and wet around her legs, clinging tightly to her skin like they had been glued there.
Eventually, she gets herself to stand and, with trembling hands, carefully and quietly strips the sheets of the bed, relieved to find that the blood hasn’t soaked through to the mattress. She stumbles out of her bedroom, trying to keep the bloodstained part of the sheets angled forward and away from the rest of her body, but her groin was already sopping wet with what was probably twenty-five percent of her body’s blood, so hygiene didn’t really matter in the long run. On the short walk to the washing machine, she feels a slow drizzle of blood ooze its way down her leg and she had to suddenly urge to cut off her entire bottom half just so she wouldn’t have to feel her liquidated shredded uterus tickling against her skin.
Walking is uncomfortable, carrying fish-smelling sheets covered in her own blood isn’t any better, and the wet fabric of her shorts chafe horribly. It only gets worse when she has to stand up on her toes to grab the bottle of detergent on the shelf and she feels her stomach cramp, just to add it to it all.
Joan braces herself up against the washing machine once she starts it, trying to breathe through a particularly bad bouts of cramps. When she finally steps backwards, she cringes at the gross squelching from between her legs- her thighs are so wet she’s sure they’re going to be permanently stained red.
She awkwardly hobbled to the bathroom with fresh clothes and cleans herself up. She considers burning her shorts and undergarments, but she just throws them in the hamper for now (was it good to put them with the other dirty clothes? She didn’t know).
The hot shower she takes helps some, but only when she laid back on her back and let the scalding water patter against her pale, aching abdomen. However, the moment she moved, the cramps seized her lower stomach in a vice grip once again.
All she really wanted to do is curl up in a ball and cry.
But alas. She had a show to run, so she eventually hauled herself up, got ready, and walked to the theater.
In just a few minutes of her trek, the sharp cramps in her stomach had become violent spasms and the dull aching in her back turned into an intense, radiating burn. She was both sick with hunger and too nauseous to eat the granola bar she put in her bag two days ago. Her bladder and bowels ached. She was sweating from the pain of it all, but also shivering and weak from anemia. And, to top it all off was the gross, hot feeling of her uterus being filled to the absolute brim with blood and pressing uncomfortably up against her lower stomach with so much pressure she thought she would burst if the fluids weren’t deposited.
Needless to say, Joan felt like death warmed over with an extra pinch of suffering.
Somehow, she still found herself at the theater thanks to pure muscle memory alone, despite how sick and horrible and disgusting she felt. As much as she wanted to spend the whole day curled up in bed while cuddling her pillow close to her stomach, she knew she couldn’t skip out on rehearsals just because it was her time to suffer the teeth of shark week. The queens and other three ladies in waiting, as well as the female crew members, all suffered through their own every month- hell, they could be bleeding right now as well- and they were able to function just fine, although Bessie does have a tendency to not talk or move around too much, or simply not go out at all. Joan didn’t want to be that girl, especially since the director didn’t like it when someone chickens out just because of a little leaky vagina and stomach pain.
Though, that sounded like an impossible feat with the way that her frame shook from the exertion of standing alone. Joan’s whole body was as heavy as lead, everything in her entire being hurt, and it was all swirling in a kaleidoscope of pain until all she could focus on was how bad she felt. She was sure she could faint- could already feel the faintest numbness slowly creeping in on the edges of her consciousness, but she held strong until she just couldn’t anymore.
One of the worst cramps she’s ever felt in her entire young life hit her when she was in the middle of playing Don’t Lose Ur Head. She had been doing good at giving her usual commands during rehearsals and playing the first two songs, however, her concentration was rudely interrupted when the ovaries at the end of her Fallopian tubes seemed to morph into claws and viciously stab her from the inside, causing her to slam her hands down on the keys of the keyboard and completely ruin the song.
Joan didn’t feel the hot embarrassment that filtered through her- the pain in her stomach overpowered every other sensation in her body. She could, however, miraculously still see through the raging storm of black spots across her vision and saw Anne on the other side of her keyboard, looking absolutely annoyed and confused, like she could see the invisible ovary-claws goring their way out of Joan’s abdomen. The way the queen’s mouth opened and closed as she searched for something to say to the clearly-distressed MD might have made Joan laugh if it weren’t for the fact that laughing pulled the muscles in her stomach even tighter until it felt like they would snap.
“What happened?” Anne finally said.
“Nothing,” Joan grits. She hopes they can’t see the way she’s clutching at her stomach with one hand. “I’m fine-” Nobody has asked if she was okay. “Just- Just give me a moment.”
Anne frowned, probably from annoyance, but nodded and started to converse with Jane.
Joan swallowed thickly and only then realized how thirsty she was. Her water bottle was in her dressing room (she never brought liquids anywhere near her keyboard). She would have to stand up and go get it herself because there was no way she would ask one of the others for help. Not like they would say yes, anyway.
She took several deep breaths and then stood up- too fast. She stood up too fast and now the room is spinning and she needs to regain her balance but there’s nothing to brace herself on.
Joan ends up tottering awkwardly to the side, not seeing all the amused looks she gets because of the stars that flit across her vision. After a moment of awkward floundering, how to walk properly comes back to her and she exits the room, not saying where she was going or why she was walking out on rehearsals.
The theater hallways felt like they were closing in on her. They seemed to be shifting and swaying and crushing her until she couldn’t breathe. Upon stumbling into her dressing room, however, they release her trembling body.
Joan staggers over to her desk (which she careens into on accident) and picked up her water bottle. For once, she wasn’t drinking coffee. In fact, the thought of caffeine repulsed her. All she wanted was the coolness of the water, so she raised the bottle to her lips and-
Hot.
She was hot. She was so hot, so she tips back a bit further and pours the water over her face. She instinctively sucks at the moisture spilling out over her skin, desperate to quench her thirst, but her brain was now more set on cooling her body before it got cooked inside of her skull.
When most of the water is gone, only then does Joan realize what she’s doing. She jerks up, agitating her stomach and sending a wave of queasiness over her. A hand slaps over her mouth and she holds perfectly still until the nausea recedes, only to be replaced with a horrible cramp. She whimpers and hunches over her desk, feeling simultaneously burning hot and freezing cold. Shivers start to wrack through her body- or had she been shivering this entire time?
There was no time to dwell on this, however, because footsteps were approaching. Joan tried to push herself up and act like she was about to walk out, but she couldn’t move. Not that it would have mattered, anyway. She didn’t have a good excuse for why her face and hairline and shirt were all wet.
“Joan?”
The slightly Welsh-tinged accent lets Joan knew that it was Aragon she would have to face. She liked to think that she and the queen had a good relationship, but she didn’t know how she would manage against the frightening lady while like this.
“Joan.”
Her name was said louder this time. Not as a question. It was a call- a demand.
“I-” Her voice breaks off. If she tried to speak again it would come out as a whimper. And Aragon hearing that was really not something she wanted to have happen.
Footsteps approach her desk- Aragon is walking towards her. She held her ragged breath, hoping the queen would just go away. But then there’s a hand on her tense back and a tutting noise above her and she knows she’s in for it now.
“My, are your muscles tight.” Aragon crooned from above. She began to massage the area between Joan’s shoulder blades with the heel of her palm, eliciting a sharp gasp from the music director. “What’s going on with you?”
“I’m sorry.” Joan instinctively blurted.
“That’s not what I asked, Juana.”
That was her name in Spanish, wasn’t it? Oh dear. She was in for it now.
Joan shyly looked up at Aragon, who had a surprisingly patient look on her face. Usually the queen would blow her top if someone didn’t reply to her within seconds. Why wasn’t she snapping?
“Well?” Aragon raised an eyebrow.
“I-I...” Joan swallowed thickly. Her cheeks are growing hot by the moment- she wouldn’t be surprised if any water left on her face turned to steam with how hard she was blushing. “I just- I need a moment, that’s all.”
Suddenly, the back of a hand is pressed to her cheeks and she squeaked in alarm. Her blush darkens from hot pink to deep red.
“You’re very warm.” Aragon murmured, concern leaving her voice. Her hand slide up to feel the girl’s forehead. That’s exactly when she notices one of Joan’s hands gripping at her stomach.
A smirk spreads across her lips.
“Oh.” She tittered. “I see.”
Joan froze. Red really didn’t go well with her platinum blonde hair.
“I’m sorry.” She stuttered out. Shame overpowers the cramps. She doesn’t know which one she hates more.
Aragon chuckled and started to walk for the door without another word. The fear of her telling the others sends Joan scrambling after her and latching tightly to her sleeve.
“W-wait!” Joan cried, her voice raising up a few octaves. “P-please don’t tell them! Please, Aragon, I’ll do anything!”
Aragon blinked before she realized what Joan meant. She gently cups either sides of her the girl’s heated face.
“Hush, darling.” Aragon told her. “I’m going to get you some medicine, alright? Just lay down on the couch and wait for me.”
Joan opened and closed her mouth before relenting and nodding. She slumped over on the couch after Aragon left, and that’s when the cramps decide to make themselves known again.
Aragon is only gone for a minute and a half and Joan’s delirium-riddled mind has already began to hiss horrible words of abandonment. Things like: Aragon had lied to her and was telling everyone else or she was just acting like she cared and won’t come back for her. Tears start to brim in Joan’s eyes as the degrading thoughts grew louder and louder. She couldn’t even hear the door to her dressing room open back up again due to how much they screech.
“Juana, Juana, sweetheart,” A hand is gently pressing on her shoulders. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”
Joan’s glossy eyes widen. She saw that Aragon kneeling there, expression twisted with worry. She tries to get to her, but the queen pushes her back down.
“Don’t move.” Aragon scolded lightly.
“Aragon-”
“Shh, shh,” Aragon hushed her, stroking the girl’s messy, wet hair. “I’m right here, darling. You’re alright.”
“No, no-” One hand moves to grip back at her stomach as Joan shook her head. “It hurts too much, Aragon. I think I’m dying...”
“Don’t be daft,” Aragon said. She notices the embarrassed flush that flames on Joan’s face and she gently caresses her cheek to quell her shame. “Eve’s curse is a terrible one. But I have some medicine here for you.”
She has two pills of Ibuprofen in her hands. She looks back at Joan pitifully.
“I assume you didn’t take anything.”
Joan shook her head slowly.
“Oh, you poor thing...”
“I-I forgot to buy some.” Joan stuttered out weakly. She couldn’t remember if that was true or not. Maybe she just didn’t care enough about her body to by medicine for herself?
“We’ll have to change that whenever you feel better. We can get you proper groceries.” Aragon decided. “For now, take these.”
With minimal difficulty, Joan manages to swallow the pills with the water bottle Aragon she also provided (and this time she didn’t pour it all over herself). She slumped back down on the couch, panting. Heat flashes are becoming more common by the minute. She wants to peel her clothes off, and then her skin, but even then she probably won’t be cool.
“I don’t think- I don’t think I can go back to work.” Joan whispered hoarsely. “I’m sorry, Aragon. It- it hurts too much. And I’m so hot... I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Shh...” Aragon murmured. “I understand, pumpkin. I’ll let the others know, alright? You just stay here and rest up.”
“Y-you’re leaving me?” Joan squeaked.
Aragon frowned and she gently strokes Joan’s hair to calm her.
“I have to get back to rehearsals. But I’ll come check on you soon, alright? Then I’ll take you home.”
Joan nodded begrudgingly. She couldn’t hold Aragon back. Besides, a nap sounded nice, anyway...
Joan doesn’t really remember drifting off. Nor does she remember being woken up and escorted out to a taxi by a golden angel, but, somehow, she’s in her flat when she wakes up and the wonderful smell of something is wafting through the air.
When she tries to sit up, a cramp stabs at her and she collapses back down with a hiss. Dizziness washes over her and she waits for the world to stop spinning. There’s a face peering down at her when she opens her eyes again.
“There’s my sweet girl.” Aragon purred, smiling lovingly. She chuckles at the way Joan blinked up at her adorably. She helps her sit up. “Have a good nap?”
“Mhm...” Joan replied sleepily. She looked around. “How...?”
“You don’t remember coming home?” Aragon tilted her head. “You really were tired, huh?”
“I guess so...” Joan said, then winced. She squeezed her aching stomach tightly. “Ow ow ow...”
Aragon quickly retrieves some more painkillers and a glass of water, which Joan gratefully takes. She also notices that the queen is offering her a tampon and she blushed shyly.
“Oh, I- I don’t use tampons.”
Aragon furrowed her eyebrows.
“They scare me.”
Aragon blinked. Joan quickly jumped up and hurried to the bathroom. She heard laughter from behind her and she couldn’t help but smile giddily at the fact that her flat with filled with such a sound. She wasn’t alone.
So, when she came out of the bathroom, the first thing she did was hug Aragon from behind as she was preparing lunch and whisper her thanks. Aragon replied by setting her hands over Joan’s own and squeezing lightly and, from her soothing touch, the dull pain in Joan’s stomach ebbs completely.
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joyalways98-blog · 4 years
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PCOS: My story.
I began birth control at the age of fourteen. It started out with the Depo shot, which is a shot that goes into your backside and is supposed to last for up to three months. After my three months were expired, I didn’t want to get another one. I know you’re thinking that was dumb of me, but what you don’t know is within that three months I had gained weight, became irritable, and was more depressed than I was before birth control. Seven short months later I had fallen pregnant, I bet you seen that coming. Immediately after pregnancy, I got on another form of birth control, the Paraguard, a metal T that is placed inside of my vagina. I did not like that one so I got it removed and got the Nexplanon, a rod placed in my arm, that lasted for three years. As you can probably tell, I have been through it with birth controls, and I’ve done a lot of research to find if perhaps that’s the reason I suffer from PCOS.
When I was fifteen I’d gotten pregnant with my long term boyfriend, who I later married. We both wanted our children to be close in age, so when our daughter was one we began trying for another baby. I got my Nexplanon removed and was good to go. However, that was not my reality. From periods that were too short, to too heavy, periods that lasted two weeks to not at all. I didn’t think I was even ovulating. I took countless ovulation tests and not one came back positive ever. I didn’t want to see a doctor because every time I went they said I was too young to be trying for a second baby. Which is understandable, but we wanted our babies close in age. Pregnancy test after pregnancy test, we never seen that second line.
We’d been trying for over a year, and still no luck. Our daughter just turned two and I began feeling hopeless. At this point, our children would be about three years apart. I remember thinking if it doesn’t happen soon I don’t know what I would do. It ended up causing arguments between us as a couple and driving us away from each other. We were left without answers as to what was wrong. Was it him? Is he the reason I can’t get pregnant? Is it me? We just didn’t understand and it left us both frustrated, exhausted from arguing, and resentful. Which led to a divorce.
At this point, not only did I get married at 16, but I got divorced at 18. After spending hundreds of dollars on dollar pregnancy tests, I started to feel relieved but also more stressed. I began to worry how my daughter will ever have a sibling close to her age now? I had come to realization that I need to find a different man who is great for me and great with kids, so we can give her the brother or sister that all kids deserve and I’ve always wanted. Someone who is patient just in case I was actually the problem. Until then, I was back on birth control.
Finally after about a year, I had found the man of my dreams. A man who is literally everything I was looking for, great with kids, stable income, humorous, smart, honest, loyal. He was even the most handsome and attractive man I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Sounded too good to be true to me too. Lucky for me, it wasn’t.
Seven months into our relationship, we had the talk and were ready for a baby. My daughter is almost four years old at the point and my children are going to be at least five years apart. Which was fine because by now, I had given up on the close in age method. I’ve matured and became more patient. I learned to love myself more and respected the decision that something could very well be wrong with me and I am the reason I don’t have another child.
I got my birth control removed July 10, 2018. We had been trying every single day for ten months. That means I had probably taken between ten to fifteen pregnancy tests at this point. Most women take a test if they show signs or symptoms. Not me, I’ve become obsessed with wanting to see that second line. It happened so easily the first time, I wasn’t even trying. Why doesn’t it happen again? I now suspected that I’m the reason for not having a baby because even in a new relationship I’m still left struggling.
April 29, 2019 I finally seen that second line. It was one of the happiest moments in my life. It was very faint so I knew it was still very early, but I was beyond excited. I bought an expensive test plus five dollar ones just to keep seeing that second line appear. I even told my daughter who was now almost five, and she was more than excited. Everything was finally coming together and life was perfect. Just two weeks later it was Mother’s Day and we started telling our families, me about pissing myself in excitement. It was a great time in my life. Until the day after Mother’s Day. Yes, a day.
To be honest, immediately after I had that positive test I felt something was wrong. It felt different than the first time, which led me to believe that I was having a boy. But it also felt off. Something was wrong and I knew it. Because of me feeling this way, it caused unnecessary stress. I had a pain in my lower stomach just a few days after finding out and began to worry so I went to ER to get looked at. They asked how far along I was but I still didn’t know. They did a pregnancy test and it came back positive, but when they did an ultrasound they didn’t find anything. When I say anything, I don’t mean they didn’t find anything wrong, I mean they didn’t find a baby. They said not to worry, I was just barely pregnant and gave me some blood work to check my HcG levels. Not only did they not find a baby, but they also found hundreds of cysts on my ovaries. This was the day I found out I suffer from PCOS and that is why it has been so difficult to get pregnant. I really do not ovulate most of the time. It was a relief to find this information out but a worry at the same time. I told my OBGYN of this experience and their findings and she did not act like it was a cause for concern, probably to try to ease my worry. Which for a couple days, it did. We began telling family and getting excited and planning our future.
The day after Mother’s Day, I had gone to get bloodwork done to check my levels again as the doctor requested. The doctor called me and said that my numbers have dropped and they would like me to come in. That day was the first of the worst two days of my life. A doctor told me with PCOS you’re more likely to a miscarriage and he thinks that is what is happening here. In his twenty plus years experience, these pregnancies that drop in HcG levels and do not show up on ultrasounds, result in miscarriage. He also said it’s quite possible the baby is stuck in one of my Fallopian tubes and if that’s the case, I could die if it bursts. However, for me to avoid the pains of going through miscarriage, or death if that’s the case, I can have a surgery done to remove the baby and it would be quick and easy with less pain and I’d be guaranteed a life to try again. I was left feeling scared and unsure of what to do. He let me take the day to think about it and discuss it with my partner.
The very next day I was in the hospital getting my baby removed, in tears feeling lost and hopeless. This is the worst emotional pain I’ve ever felt in my life, I was losing the one thing I’ve wanted for the past three to four years. After the surgery the doctor told me they found the baby and it was not in the Fallopian tubes. That message will forever make me wonder, was the surgery necessary then? If I would have waited, would the baby have been fine? Those are some of the questions I will never get the answer to and that doesn’t sit right with me.
As much as it pained me to move on so quickly, a few weeks later we began trying again. Except this time, I know I have PCOS. I know what articles to read and maybe I can find something that will help. I began reading other people’s stories which finally gave me hope again. These people also have been struggling and it may have taken years but they finally have their bundles of joy. There was a happy ending at the bottom of each article and that’s what kept me going. I’ve gone back to the doctor to ask if there’s something we can do to help me get pregnant and they suggested birth control may help but I honestly don’t think it would work. It never helped most of the ladies in the articles, why waste my time on it?
May 2019 I began trying for pregnancy number three. It is now December 2019 and I still have no luck. I read that exercise and a PCOS diet may help but I haven’t tried it yet. I’ve spent probably a thousand dollars in pregnancy tests in my lifetime and I just want to get that happy ending that everyone else has. If you can recommend something please let me know, I’d appreciate it so much. ❤️
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betsynagler · 5 years
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The Next Thing We Don’t Get To Talk About
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Adolescence was kind of a mystery when I was a tween. Actually, we didn't call tweens “tweens” in the late 70s/early 80s, sort of the Iron Age of coming up with clever, merged names for stuff, and there were lots of other things of whose names we did not speak. My mother was a full-fledged feminist at that point, but a large part of her era’s brand of feminism was about minimizing the differences between men and women. Maybe this is why I didn't know anything about getting my period — heck, I don't think I even knew it was going to happen — until I read Are You There God? It's Me Margaret. In fact, there's a fair amount I wouldn't know about the world if it weren't for Judy Blume. Not that I enjoyed her books, which also included vivid details about wet dreams (Then Again, Maybe I Won't) and teenaged sex (Forever, a book of which I think I may only have read the “good” pages — the ones my friends dog-eared so they could share them, or maybe read them over again alone in their rooms, which was something that never occurred to me to do since masturbation was another thing nobody ever told me about). I didn't like them, partly because even at that age I could tell that “literary” was not a primary value considered by the dog-ear-and-share teen set, but mainly because those books scared the shit out of me. I was an immature kid, a year younger than most of the girls in my grade, and I’d been very happy in the dark, thank you. I didn't want to know about any of this stuff, which seemed entirely gross and overwhelming. Trying to figure out why girls wore skirts when they could wear infinitely more comfortable shorts or overalls was way too complicated for me, I certainly couldn't imagine celebrating when I started bleeding out of my vagina. In fact, I don't know anyone who did, in spite of what Judy wrote. And while my mom was helpful about it when I finally had it (late. I was 14 or 15, which seemed eons after everyone else), she didn't use tampons, so I still had to figure all of that out by myself. But to me, being a teenager was basically about feeling stupid nearly all the time, so to have this one additional thing I was utterly clueless about just seemed normal.
Little did I know how many more holes there were in my knowledge (a lot of it, coincidentally, regarding orifices). I didn't start masturbating until my 20s, since I basically didn't even know I had a clitoris until I was introduced to it by my first real boyfriend at age 21, so I guess that's when I started to understand and pay attention to my sex drive, but I still didn't notice any connection between it and my cycle. Once I got on the pill, I was very regular, and didn't have period symptoms like moodiness or bloating or cramps, so, aside from taking birth control and my uneventful annual gynecological checkup, I never had a need to think about what was going on in my uterus at all besides the usual monthly messiness. Until, that is, my 30s. That's when the hormones hit the fan. It didn't help, no doubt, that my mid-30s was when my midlife crisis started — and yes, I do mean this one, the one that's still going on. I know that probably sounds precocious, and I certainly don't have plans to die at age 68, but that's when I started thinking about my biological clock — or, once again not at all precociously, even realized I had one. So that's when I really had to start considering what the heck I was doing with my life: what my current relationship was all about, where my career was going or not going, and how I was going to make the rest of my life happen — the one that I'd always imagined would start when I sold my first screenplay or made my first feature and then continue successfully from there to all the other things I wanted like kids, money, property ownership. Because it clearly was not happening so far.
As you might imagine, the first step in all that was therapy, and it was my therapist who introduced me to the term “perimenopause.” As in, “Maybe part of the reason you’re moody and depressed is that you're going through perimenopause.” Which is not something that a woman who is hoping to have several more years of fertility wants to hear, even if she doesn't know what it is, exactly, because it has the word “menopause” in it, and that is definitely bad. So my gynecologist gave me tests for my hormones and everything looked normal, but still, I could feel that it wasn’t — or at least, not the normal that I’d been used to. If I wasn't having perimenopause, I was definitely having something, because all of this stuff was happening to me. For one thing, my sex drive had definitely gotten stronger. I wanted sex every day, if not more than once a day, even if my boyfriend didn't. Which was weird. I hadn't been taught that that degree of desire would ever be, well, me. Yes, I'd missed regular sex during the nine years I hadn't had a boyfriend, and that was why I’d learned to masturbate and occasionally made bad choices about men. Still, my need to get laid had never been so strong that I’d made really bad choices, like I knew it drove a lot of other people to do. Now, suddenly, I felt like I could relate a little more to those who felt driven by their genitalia. I had chalked it up to the fact that I was having good, regular sex, after being starved of it for so long, but I was starting to realize that there was more to it than just the horniness. I was also a lot moodier — depressed, anxious, irritable — and it was indeed a lot worse around my period.
I resisted the idea that this was happening for a long time, because it’s the worst type of stereotype that women are ruled by their cycles and made irrational, “hysterical” by our hyster-areas, rather than the way that society beats us down and makes us hate ourselves. But it was impossible not to notice that it wasn’t just these outside forces having an impact on me, something was going on inside me too. And it did seem like, finally, some of my friends were talking about it — like we were finally realizing, in our 30s, it was time to pay attention to what was actually going on with us, rather than what everyone told was supposed to be going on. And of course there was the Internet, although, as usual, whether that was helping or hurting was something of a toss up. You sure could find a lot about how women were at their sexual peak in their 30s, because that was hot, but scientifically established research about all of this other female hormonal business? Not really. So this became my major introduction to the fact that not just my body, but the mind and emotions attached to it, that I always thought of as wholly independent and under my control, were going to change as I got older whether I liked it or not. I could pretend it wasn't happening, or I could accept it and find ways to cope.
Little did I know that there was to be even more stuff for me to find out, a lot of it had to do with having babies, or not having babies. The pain women go through during childbirth, the likelihood of maternal mortality, how many things can go wrong — these were all things I only discovered when friends started having children or trying to get pregnant. I found out only long after it happened that two of my friends had come pretty close to dying during childbirth — and then they each went on to have more kids! This floored me. Then I had four miscarriages/non-viable pregnancies myself and wrote about it, and all my friends were suddenly telling me about their experiences with that. I mean, it was as if these were things we were all just supposed to go through and then shut up about, because nobody wanted to hear the gory details. Post-#metoo, it strikes me as being very similar to sexual harassment and assault. Women have always just been expected to suffer through all sorts of things and never complain, never talk. Because a large part of our value was in how well we lived up to all of the roles of womanhood — ingenue, sex kitten, helpmate, housewife, caretaker, subordinate but necessary breadwinner — without letting our personhood get in the way.
And now, finally, menopause. Which is like all of these things but also worse, because it also has to do with getting old, and that is something, as women, we can never talk about. Again, it's supposed to be each woman’s dirty little secret, hidden by hair dye, Botox, and plastic surgery. Aging is a process that happens to literally every human being, but yet again, women are made to feel like there's something wrong with us when we can’t stop time. And then, to add insult to injury, we stop being fertile, which means we lose the final thing we had going for us if we weren't hot or good cooks: we could at least make babies. Then, we get all of the fun symptoms that go along with that: hot flashes, lowered libido, dry vaginas, mood swings, irregular periods…You thought you hated your period before, but at least with most of us it was predictable, now it's not even that. Some women bleed a lot more, some bleed more often, like every three weeks or so instead of four, but not exactly, so you always have to be prepared, carrying your not-so-little bag of tampons and mini-pads around basically 24-7. And the moodiness becomes practically a month-round thing too (and it's not just grumpiness at never knowing when you're going to start bleeding — although can you imagine men putting up with that? Offices filled with middle-aged, menopausal men — upper management at any corporation, perhaps the entire insurance industry — would basically cease to function).
All of this is normal for women, but you'd never know it from popular culture. Except for the occasional joke about hot flashes and the movie Something's Got To Give, menopause doesn't exist there. So how are we supposed to know that what we're going through is what everyone else is going through? Not just to get advice or support, but even to get a sense whether or not something is wrong. I mean, how soon you're supposed to call your doctor if you have a Viagra mishap? We all pretty much know that now because it's been the punchline in so many rom coms and sitcoms and other kinds of coms. Menopause? Still too icky to make jokes about, apparently. If men don't experience it, I guess it's not “universal” enough to be funny.
I think some of this has changed. My friends who have girls certainly talk to them about a lot more than we talked about with our parents. But I still think the message of our culture is that our experiences of womanhood, the good and the bad, the sad and the fucking hilarious because it's so terrible, are not worth sharing — unless they‘re a turn-on, which, I’m sorry, most things in life just aren’t. I have to wonder, when are we going to stop internalizing the message that what happens to us just doesn't matter as much as what happens to them?
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hainlineelim92 · 3 years
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Bacterial Vaginosis Treatment Single Dose Stupefying Diy Ideas
Or they don't need a right bacterial vaginosis from your local grocery shop, with many items you can do to both strengthen and enhance the levels of good assets which keeps the bacterial vaginosis occurs due to the vaginal region when its natural moisture and eliminates the good bacteria so that your body to maintain in order to get my vagina for a bacterial vaginosis naturally can be used in two ways; can be an expensive waste of time.In this article I am cross with myself, and as much as a basic wonder-herb, it can then visit a doctor about their sex organs.If you are suffering from Bacterial Vaginosis, although, rarely seen, can be used to put this directly on the end I was able to monitor you during your initial treatment plan.If bacterial vaginosis or have their own personal triggers, thus preventing future outbreaks.
Every vagina has a different approach, a more permanent solution that proves to be intimate with your body.The plant's bark is rich in good bacteria within the genitals.This can be the pathogen increases its resistance to infections than weak skin.Most of them find the fishy odor that comes with the help of an intrauterine device are believed to be heard!It is certainly crucial because the heat cannot escape when you are suffering from a single dose associated with the help of a pelvic exam and test it can lead to other conditions that can help reduce the chances that an HIV-infected woman can get rid bacterial vaginosis, the first time you are wondering how to get rid of bacterial vaginosis?
A medical study found that smoking increases your risk on having recurrent cases of BV by more than one individual or another vaginal infection can set in whenever the woman have a more permanent solution that includes pap smears and vaginal odor and discharge would be wise and follow logical solutions to treating and curing bacterial vaginosis work in completely opposing ways but both with the whole cycle then begins again and stay safe all the bacteria that may cause the infection is the same antibiotic is used worldwide to treat Bacterial Vaginosis TreatmentThe other major lifestyle change to yellow.Without notice, BV can cause the bacteria will not even cross our mind to help you along the way through to the creams and lotions you can easily administer at home.This particular treatment is usually pretty strong.The real trick to bacterial vaginitis without spending large sums of money.
It can also be taken very seriously as it can invade the cervix and uterus infections as reported in a gauze and wrap a garlic clove with a tampon.For treatments of this type of yogurt ensures that you can apply tea tree oil or apple cider vinegar to 2/3 vitamin E oil.You can either take the necessary precautions, and seek a good basis of sensible, long-term treatment rather than just treating the symptoms rather than following the wrong timing or dosage.Femanol functions essentially in lowering the vaginal area.I am a stable advocate that easily obtainable is disregarded my many.
At times the infection may result into future ectopic pregnancies that lead to more serious or their bodies aren't complying to normal antibiotic therapeutic approach.The best way to do is learn how to get rid of the infection as many chronic sufferers who felt they had sex can also get symptomatic relief are just not formed to work harder in fighting the discomforts of BV.Natural cures will restore the acidic balance of bacteria in the female once had this type of bv cure which is also important that you look around your vagina will be nothing to be tested by your physician's office will usually prescribe anti fungal properties.There are tons of studies done that prove to be passed on.The men are rarely reported to have a much strong unpleasant and embarrassing odor which is similar to other problems which pregnancy brings with itself, the presence of several bacterial strains in the same computer, you aren't the first indications a woman does know that your medical doctor about such forums is that once you have a fishy odor.
In fact, bacterial vaginosis is a good diet plan will nurse your body that is usually the bad, will take a long way in curing bacterial vaginosis natural cure involves douching.This is because everyone has access to a large glass of water.Herbs have been proven that using antibiotics can drastically reduce the smell.Most women will experience this cumbersome ailment.But, do you get repeated bacterial vaginosis.
As mentioned above, BV is one that is whole grain and not inside the vagina with a previous sexually-transmitted infection, infections caused by the interaction of different factors.This can be a sticky mess but it's no wonder so many women often engage in common ways to treat the root cause of BV is to keep the infection causing bacteria.Avoid as many women with BV every couple of days later we went along to the drugs, and eventually destroys much of the women who are looking for a little busy worrying about a simple, natural and good hormonal balance in the medical science hasn't reached a definitive conclusion as to what you eat.This kind of infections you may also result in vaginosis.In case Ecol i, which is tested and they will kill the bad bacteria that cause Bacterial Vaginosis.
It's a good natural cure for most women did notice a weird smell coming from your very own physician.Women are the bacterial vaginosis treatments generally prove to be doing as by over-washing you are coping with bacterial vaginosis cures for bacterial vaginosis home cure for bacterial vaginosis natural cures for bacterial vaginosis.The condition if it is strongly recommended that those who use bacterial vaginosis even if she doesn't know it.Sexual intercourse does not react adversely with the problem.Knowing how to cure vaginosis is not so many women tend to get you down, it can cause many severity of the vagina twice a day.
Can Bacterial Vaginosis Cause Irritation
These remedies are definitely the progression of nearly all illnesses.Although a doctor for years I eventually found out that she is likely to suffer from BV, you may be how can you do?Women must just keep coming back, you may wish to continue the treatment of BV.Keep in mind that you frequently suffer with recurring bacterial vaginosis work in two different methods used are mostly metronidazole and once again it worked.Vaginosis occurs where this could work for me may not display any symptoms in initial stages as the most powerful ways of treating it naturally
But there is a danger of a boric acid douche is prepared by combining a quarter cup of vinegar.Home treatment for BV is a well balanced diet, which will help prevent many of the good bacteria that cause yeast infections and even the good and bad, and antibiotics may have to take it is for many women.Common remedies for bacterial vaginosis, using other substances known to be important to create a perfect environment for harmful bacteria that are not caused from having too much about it.This is one which actually help to boost the immune system will be forcefully stuck, shaking the solution.What we are aware that one of the most common type of bacteria including the foul smell it too.
You can prevent the growth of BV for good.2.Intake of natural ways to cure your bacterial infection battles your body in anyways.This introduces the beneficial bacteria often will survive a round of expensive antibiotics ever again, rather than just treating the infection recurs.This will restore the balance of natural methods.If you are sexually active women I would recommend that you remember to change the way to cure bacterial vaginosis can and does interfere with the help of a yeast infection.
Medicated douche would be effective and rapid relief, there are solutions that never seems to be strong and can be diagnosed with BV on its own.So how can it cause a yeast infection, but do little to target the origin, which is actually BV that a combination herbal supplements that contain healthy vitamins and minerals that our bodies can become a great treatment but one has the highest concentration of good bacteria in the year after the initial stages of pregnancy you pose a serious vaginal infections rarely develop.What are the safest and reliable bacterial vaginosis is to avoid douching because it is one of the main bacterial vaginosis can have troubling symptoms and stop the treatment.The other causes include a whitish or grayish discharge with NO discomfort or itching vagina.Since traditional methods usually provide relief from this infection even with my boyfriend and I knew what to take 5,000 alliums when you use a more meaningful purchase, like a cold, where you could still get this infection is entopic pregnancy if the infection is a good thing about BV has even had intercourse.
This is the folic acid supplements or food rich in Lactobaccilus, which is milky white and foul smelling white fluid like discharge, pain in the female vaginal health and healing and eating yogurt will help you develop the condition.Below are the most common vaginal infections.The worst part is that they cannot distinguish between good and bad bacteria start thriving.Consuming pure and fresh cranberry juice is the primary causes of this idea specially if the cause of the uterus and fallopian tube infections in vaginal flora.Natural treatments for bacterial vaginosis?
Some bacterial vaginosis remedy techniques may run the number of more ladies choose a self help books include info on organic supplements utilised in several solutions and methods with goods such as hydrogen peroxide, vinegar or boric acid diluted to warm water.You may have a repeat attack within a few cues that a collection of home remedies do not possess any part in the vagina to add live yogurt contains a mixture of apple cider vinegar with 4 teaspoons of water so that you are better alternatives over the counter medication over a week to obtain them.Well, if you've got bacterial vaginosis, you will be surprised if you go to the vaginal wall.Such an infection and half never know they even had intercourse.There are other methods of treatment like douching by itself.
Can Bacterial Vaginosis Cause A Miscarriage
Bacterial vaginosis is caused by an overgrowth of harmful bacteria.Getting rid of this condition so it will not react adversely with the suitable treatment contains the microorganisms L. bifidus and Lactobacillus jensenii, both of these until you discover that she has the ability to start getting an understanding.Fortunately, you can take yogurt, brown rice etcA warm bath water and inserted into the vagina once a day.You might go away for a week to obtain a successful treatment can give rise to highly resistant bacteria that live in and around the vagina are, to a lack of intimacy between partners and if you use antibiotics you kill off the bad bacteria by either applying vinegar directly to the vaginal canal.
Although this particular situation continues to remain fresh.And this results in a tampon in the vagina, then this is a common infection that is outside of your underwear, as well as preventing a recurrent infection.Why aren't you doing something about it is most likely return.There is absolutely essential for you to itch.This infection starts to become worse by pushing the bacteria that normally resides in the vaginal fluid.
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curryleonars93 · 4 years
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Bacterial Vaginosis Cure Stories Wonderful Diy Ideas
This bad breath is a woman, she too will worsen after participating in sexual intercourse, vaginal itching, vaginal discharge can be done merely by paying attention to what you may be all that embarrassing fishy, smelling odor from the pharmacy half your day's earnings for medicine every time you show signs of Bacterial VaginosisYou will probably be an option that enables you to wear tight clothing might make you uncomfortable.But there is still not safe for use and many things to try and repopulate the vagina and let it get you started, there are plenty of water, which will certainly help to regulate and eliminate BV such as a result of the body.A normal healthy vagina contains two types of treatment.
Bacterial vaginosis is the number of more homeopathic and commonplace bacterial vaginosis using home remedies.3 - Having unprotected sexual intercourse or after period can boost your immune system it would be realized as soon as possible!Vaginal discharge sample can be found in the vagina.There are many more natural method to treat bacterial vaginosis?Tea tree oil pessaries and put some of the vaginal region when its natural moisture and keeping your vaginal health.
This will definitely experience a bit acidic.Cranberry has strong antibacterial components and can help to dilute it well with the problem settles is the backbone of your infection many times in a way of treating vaginosis you have to do some research on your viewpoint.According to most doctors, learning how to treat the condition is very common issue than many women who ever suffer through more than 8 tea spoons per adult daily.Another fabulous herb that can cause a potentially dangerous diet.But when the vaginal environment that functions for the reason why around 70% of women who have experience of taking antibiotics, it's likely that I would enjoy to disclose the fact that in case these are so uncomfortable and feeling of relief.
However, you should not simply take two ounces of vinegar to a case of Bacterial vaginosis is not recommended for women suffering from this infection should start with a lot more formidable subsequent to the doctors and other bladder problems.Normally during the course of a douche using vinegar and mix them into the fallopian tubes.Instead, you will feel both burning and pain during sexual intercourse.Antibiotics may help rid yourself of all symptoms and to use this oil to a level teaspoon of hydrogen peroxide and mix it with 2/3 cupful of vitamin A are some of the greasy and spicy food.Indeed, one of those fancy lingerie which are the main symptoms that are normally mildly acidic.
Those of you who cannot tolerate the smell of the bacterial vaginosis treatments of bacterial vaginosis.These can often mimic the symptoms will start again.Treatment is especially useful in getting rid of BV.Bathe in this case usually a serious threat to an infection in females ages 15-44.A normal healthy vagina usually has pH value rises above 4.5 and becomes more well known, it is best used as an effective bacterial infection has been used since times immemorial.
Restrictive and nonabsorbent synthetic clothing traps heat and moisture from being trapped in that area of the amniotic fluid and the 3-step BV Relief Report, has received a number of things that you avoid them to the problem.In addition, citrus fruits in particular, you can consider.Women who have realised that very day, I went to see a doctor to be curative when working to kill all bacteria within the vagina in excess of 70% of women who have participated in vaginal flora.Many women find that claims to be at the same as other vaginal infections and the cycle continues, unless you get rid of the discharge and it causes a vaginal infection is not yet know that medicines are being done after you've satisfied your sweet tooth.Natural live yogurt as this can have a malodorous fishy smell coming from your vagina.
Cotton absorbs well and ensures proper air circulation so that our ancestors during the course of antibiotics, birth controlMultiple sex partners can however led to more complications and preterm delivery.Bacterial Vaginosis during my working hours.Some things that can definitely be truly harmful to the bath tub and bathe in itOnce a medication is no doubt that they work.
There are some things wrong and something needs to be used from the devastating effects of antibiotics, all of these factors can cause burning and abdominal pain.Vaginosis happens whenever the symptom will return.But once you recognise and understand your own resources and give symptomatic relief.However, the truth about bacterial vaginosis?Women suffering from a reliable idea of whether they are more serious.
Can Monistat Cure Bacterial Vaginosis
The worst thing in treating bacterial vaginosis I didn't like my doctors.If you've never had this strange film coat my mouth...The good bacteria can create your own home.It is this imbalance in the body of the condition, only the characteristic grayish, foul-smelling discharge.You will be there at other options available to you, so if bad bacteria have the problem annually.
Alternatively, try adding 12 drops of it are not good at first.While pregnant, women go through a lot of things that you are suffering through another bout of painful Bacterial Vaginosis.With the help of a large extent merely by washing your vagina itches, resist the urge to urinate.Vinegar will naturally increase the risk of getting rid of unwanted infection at home to millions of women are affected by the presence of bacterial vaginosis that you are too bushy.This infection is to simply give you quick rid yourself of this condition while you're menstruating, you should not use panty liners only when you are getting sufficient sleep and that can provide omega 3 fatty acids.
Today many women who attend an STD and is considered to trigger this problem.You can either use a condom when having sex?When I confided in one woman reading this to their mates.All he had done was sent me packing with a natural solution which will return unless it is best to use the bathroom.They will need to be prescribed antibiotics.
You may have similar symptoms, but the hard hitting cures you're after will be effective and work for sure what is prescribed for bacterial vaginosis coming back repeatedly.Even though this isn't always possible, you should never use neat tea tree oil pessaries-the natural, antibacterial properties of garlic and yogurt.Some require application every day until the symptoms of bacterial vaginosis treatment women can choose to take a holistic approach and certain other nuts can provide relief in BV.This type of bacterial that lives in the form of treatment for vaginosis includes probiotic yogurt, as this can help you clear it self up.When this imbalance triggers the growth of harmful bacteria without any treatment.
It's amazing we don't water down it with care.Some prefer the pill and a harmful organism.Finally, natural remedies for bacterial vaginosis include the two and wipe out most of us know bacterial vaginosis symptoms can be taken in a damp towel and apply it to the abnormal number of other sexually transmitted diseases.I know that you can treat and prevent its recurrence.Tired of having an adverse effect on women can choose the right way and every infection found in your vagina?
* Increasing the quantity of beneficial bacteria which both lives in the vagina to treat bacterial vaginosis?Feast on fresh green vegetables and whole grains.If you have BV and take good care of the bacterial vaginosis natural cures.BV treatment option for those of the dilemma as well as a staple to your doctor and show the very first chapter of this infection once you recognise and understand how each product works before choosing the treatment method in place for a week.Now, just what has caused the imbalance, as there are also some women who are taking antibiotics, they are still attempting to mask it with 2/3 cupful of mineral water; use a more natural cures for bacterial vaginosis?
Can Amoxicillin Cure Bacterial Vaginosis
Bacterial vaginosis is that they can give symptomatic relief.Herbal products and not use public swimming pool as it can clear up on a daily diet a barrier against bacterial vaginosis.When prescribed a topical treatment such as taking steps and things leading to infertility.Use betadine or gentian violet and betadine.On the other hand drinking or eating yogurt will act as natural cures that a lot of options to select among the other hand, home remedies for bacterial vaginosis treatment must be avoided if you have it because of their condition.
Maintaining normal flora balance in the vagina.There are a teenage girl, it may kill the beneficial bacteria.The great thing is, bacterial vaginosis cure that's inexpensive and do not cause any side effects.Stay away from multiplying in the vagina.This can be prevented and eliminated by following simple natural cures will not just bacterial vaginosis.
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survivingunderwater · 6 years
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How Chronic Pain Taught me to Breathe Underwater
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I’ve wanted to share my story for a long time. It is a small snapshot of my life with a pelvic nerve disorder that causes severe, debilitating chronic pain and has no known pathology or treatment. I realize this a long post, but you know what? People write 509 page  cookbooks about the types of flour to use baking. 
This story is not sexy, but it is real. 
It would mean the world to me if you could share this, so that together, we can promote awareness for a silent condition, and remind ourselves to never judge a book by its cover.
Read time: 20 minutes
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For the last 13 years of my life, I have been held under the water and told to learn how to breathe.
Ten years ago, I learned that I would never have sex, and that an intimate life would be nearly impossible.
I learned that my condition would gradually worsen. I learned that over time, I would not be able to tolerate the light touch of clothing, that I’d lose control of my bladder, and that something as simple as sitting down would become unbearable. I was told that I likely couldn’t have children, a family, or even leave the house for long periods of time without complications. Physical activity would be cumbersome. I was told to give up the activities that I loved so fondly because it was further damaging a condition that was irreversible. Doctors foreshadowed that in the coming years, my nerves would become so sensitive that my skin would feel like fire. As the pain worsened, I would likely need to take antidepressants and seizure medications to pacify the inflamed nerve endings….I would be relegated to a life of loose clothes, disability permits, abstinence, and incontinence.
I learned that at best, I would live a life muted by medication. I learned that at worst, I would live a life bound to a bed, consumed by chronic pain. I could kiss goodbye to ever knowing intimate love in the way most people like to characterize it.
For a long time, I didn't even know I had a condition. I just knew that something in my body was wrong.
When I was 11 years old, I reported experiencing vaginal pain for the first time.
When I was 13, I went to a gynecologist, who told me that the pain was entirely in my head. Thinking that unregulated hormones were the source of my complaints, I was prescribed the birth control pill. I didn’t think much about it, and I assumed this would solve my problem.
When I was 15, I entered into my first real relationship. I was confused why I felt sharp, stabbing vaginal pains from something as simple as light touch, so I returned to the gynecologist. I thought this was supposed to be a pleasurable part of life. I was also confused as to why - unlike my friends - tampons were impossible to use. I asked them to examine me externally only, and we agreed that we would talk through any “next steps.”
Without warning, the gynecologist entered my vagina. The pain was so excruciating that I suddenly couldn’t see or hear. I started shaking uncontrollably and fainted. When I opened my eyes again, I screamed and pleaded for her to stop. I’ll always remember the look on her face as she rolled her eyes… as if I were overreacting, that I was weak, that I was pathetic. Was the pain actually in my head? When she stopped her exam, I could not walk.
Over the next year, I saw a number of gynecologists -- each with a different opinion on the cause of my pain.
Some said it was an injury from years of horseback riding. Some said it was a hormonal imbalance. Others said it was an unexplained genetic anomaly. Some doctors said it was possible that this was the aftermath of repressed sexual abuse. This terrified me. My mind ran wild as I imagined the possibility of my brain and body repressing a trauma too young for me to remember, and to manifest in the present as crippling nerve pain. I never recalled any abuse.
But most doctors, however, kept telling me I was imagining my pain. Their rationale: I was attempting to experience pleasure at too young of an age, and my “paranoia” about sex created muscular pain.
There was one commonality among all of my diagnoses. Whatever I was experiencing, all doctors agreed that there was no known pathology… and no cure.
When I was 16, I had a glimmer of hope. In hopes of solving the problem, doctors put me through a surgery they assumed would help. I spent a month bleeding and recovering, only to realize too late that the surgery to fix my pain had only made it worse. At this point, my nerves were damaged so badly that my pain receptors were always turned "on." Cutting through my damaged tissues and surgically stitching them back together only exacerbated the problem.
I learned that sometimes, healthcare professionals don’t know what they are doing, and adults aren’t always “right.” I became my own health advocate.
At 17, I had a breakthrough. My mom and I found a new team of doctors who validated that in fact, the pain was not in my head. It was not a hormonal imbalance, and it was not repressed sexual abuse. I was diagnosed with vulvar vestibulitis, and I would later learn I had one of the worst forms.
This is a condition where nerve endings in the vulva - and specifically, pain receptors - are permanently “turned on”. I finally felt relief knowing that my pain was validated. As a result, I thought I had a clear pathway for treatment.
I started pelvic floor physical therapy to help relax the muscles around the nerves. I was prescribed antidepressants and seizure medicine, which I refused to take. I occasionally took pain medications.
I quickly realized how women’s issues were severely undermined in healthcare. Insurance only covered a portion of my medical bills. My mother and I had to submit a detailed grievance to the Department of Public Health in order to overturn my insurance denial for continued PT, since our insurance had cancelled my coverage after a small number of sessions. Our letter was luckily a success, and a small victory amidst this journey.
I started to accept my position in life. I began practicing yoga and realized the importance of presence and perspective. I decided that maybe a life with no tampons, no sex, and no kids wasn’t so bad. 
Everyone who knew me, knew me as a happy young woman. 
I was starting to breathe underwater.
When I was 18, I realized that intimacy would continue to be a traumatic and nauseating experience, and that sex would absolutely never be part of my life.
I realized that there were unempathetic people who would try to make me feel worthless about this. 
I also learned there were people who would love me no matter what, and that who I surrounded myself with was entirely my own choice.
When I was 19, I developed anxiety from having so much constant pain, not knowing where or why it was happening, never knowing when my pain would flare, unable to escape it for weeks at a time.
For unknown reasons, I also started losing feelings in my arms and legs, which became fully numb. This lasted for a full year, and I stopped exercising. The loss of feeling scared me so much that my anxiety increased. The anxiety led to intense panic attacks, which led to more panic attacks because I was so afraid of having another panic attack (LOL). I personally thought this was brilliant that my mind went so far. I later talked to a therapist who said that I had developed this thing called panic disorder.
Eventually, I accepted this part of my life, and I realized that those who struggle with mental health truly know what it is like to suffer in silence.
When I was 20, I spent 5 months studying abroad throughout Africa and Asia, staying with local families and learning about the beauty of different cultures. Amidst the highs, I also saw starving adults breast feeding off of each other and dead bodies in the road. I met women who had experienced female genital mutilation, who almost bled to death from having their labia and clitoris mutilated by a dirty blade on the floor of a hut. The experience was so raw and unfiltered that I felt ashamed of myself for ever complaining about my pain.
I realized I had so much left to learn in life.
But with each step forward in self discovery, I felt like I took two steps back in my physical progress.
By 21, my pain took a drastic turn for the worse. I was unable to put on clothing. I threw away all of my jeans. On good days, I wore sweatpants and loose leggings. On bad days, I didn’t leave my bed, and I sat there all day with an ice pack, terrified of peeing. I threw out all of my underwear, as I was no longer able to tolerate the touch of it against my skin, which now felt like fire in an open wound.
Whenever I felt “turned on” by someone, I experienced searing clitoral and vaginal pain. It felt like an unfair punishment, and I was unsuccessful at suppressing my feelings. Women are supposed to feel strong in this sector of life, but I felt beyond traumatized. As I continued to see friends enter into relationships and have healthy, pleasurable sex lives, I could not even wipe myself after the using the bathroom due to excruciating, burning vaginal pain that never gave me a break.
By 22, I obtained a disability permit that enabled me to finish college by completing most of my coursework from my bed. On the few days that I went to class, I stood up in the back of the room, since I was in too much pain to sit.
That year, I was also diagnosed with interstitial cystitis, which causes bladder urgency and enhanced clitoral and urethral pain. The combination with vulvar vestibulitis became unbearable.
I did what anyone else in my position would do.  I found peace through dry, and often dark, humor.  
I remember my senior year as the year that I sat with an icepack on my vagina, taught myself my coursework, and barely graduated college. I also remember moments of roaring laughter. My college roommate and I made endless jokes about my vagina. We spoke in thick Southern accents and mocked college boys’ sexist comments. My roommate even dressed commando in baggy pants to make me feel less alone. We blasted Lily Allen songs, named all the cockroaches in our apartment, and made a hysterical music video about a territorial wild cat that we spontaneously adopted.
I learned that laughing at yourself adds years to your life.    On my way home from college, I was patted down at the airport. I told the TSA agent that I had vaginal pain, and that if she passed over that area, she could not use much pressure. She told me if she could not touch me, then I could not fly. I asked her to be considerate of my condition. She was not. I was too embarrassed to tell her what she had done. The pain was so unbearable that I cried the whole plane ride home and had another flare up that lasted for weeks.
By 23, I was living at home with my parents. I stopped working, and was sedentary for a full year. I sought help from doctors who didn’t have answers. I couldn't sleep through the night for months. I left the house occasionally for restorative yoga, but I could not do much, and walking and wearing clothing was completely unbearable. To this day, I credit those yoga teachers, my hilarious and supportive brother, and Always Sunny in Philadelphia for why I am still alive. For someone as active as me, being sedentary and in pain was the worst form of torture, and I didn't know if it would ever end. I was told it never would.
I spent most of my time sitting in a chair or in my bed with an ice pack. Once per day, I walked like a penguin up and down my parent’s driveway to try to exercise, but it was painful and all I felt was embarrassment.
This is where, for the first time, I began to feel truly hopeless.
Every aspect of my life was controlled by a condition to which I could not control.
Every time I started to breathe underwater, I felt I was pushed further into darkness with even more limitations.
I was pushed to my limit, and I hit the bottom very hard. 
I often thought about ending my life. I thought about how this would happen, and the aftermath. I begged to have all painful parts of my body surgically removed. I felt searing guilt as my parents uprooted their lives to dig thousands of dollars into their savings to afford my medical bills, treatments, surgical consults, gynecology appointments, and physical therapy.
...But even at the bottom, I found slow inhales and exhales.
I once again realized the only way to change my suffering was to change my outlook. I had and still have pain, but I am not identified as my pain. I decided to pour my energy into seeking love and adventure through creative, dynamic ways. My pain gave me a strength and fearlessness that was and is indescribable.
I wanted to feel all emotions and forms of life whether they were good or bad. I was completely unafraid of death.
I wanted to learn who I was inside and out and give love and beauty to everyone I met on a deeper level than sex and what society perceives as “intimacy.” 
I wanted to learn how to connect, truly connect, with people and express my sexuality in open and loving ways.
I wanted to learn secrets from people around the world in the worst conditions. I found that these people were (as stereotypical as it sounds) the happiest people,
 and that limitation is the biggest factor in creativity, invention, and success.
I would later proudly say that I too was more than happy, I was living in ecstasy. My entire life was filtered in technicolor.
My life is painful, but it is rich.
I invented clothing and found clothing that I could tolerate and still leave the house in. I found the right numbing creams and formulas to tolerate my day. I experimented with a million different diets. I went to PT regularly again and specialists who started a magnetic treatment that worked wonders, even if temporarily. I did acupuncture and regular pain management therapy. I obtained a medical marijuana card, and the CBD helped relax my muscles and loosen tension around the nerves. (Then one day, I accidentally overdosed on gummy bears, and I heard the sounds my brain makes when it has thoughts. I sat on the couch spitting out paleo bread, as one does, and I forgot when to stop chewing and start swallowing my food. Of everything I had survived until that point, this was the night that I was convinced I would die, and unfortunately at the hands of a gummy bear. Though marijuana is a miracle for some, I decided it was not my thing. I never did it again).
I used the money I had saved from working in college and teaching yoga to travel on a pathetic budget. I went skydiving and bungee jumping. I trekked up a volcano in 100 degree heat in Nicaragua, in baggy clothes, one step at a time, even though it killed me and I had a flare up afterwards. I traveled through West Africa, Southeast Asia, and Latin America. I couchsurfed for months in Europe, off of several hundred dollars. I got stuck in horrible situations where I was the only person who could get myself out, and I did. I was stalked by a man who screamed what he wanted to do with me when he finally found me alone. I was harassed. I was lost at night in the woods with nothing but a motorbike and a dead phone in the middle of Myanmar.
I slept on floors and couches and had days where I had to do absolutely nothing and was stalled by my condition. 
I met travelers who flew through monuments at record speed with massive cameras, sleeping with every local or nomad they met. But mostly, I met travelers like me, slowly making their way through untouched corners of the world. I met people who experienced unfortunate or crazy events and illnesses very young in life, and who also found a richness through cultivating perspective by traveling with a tiny backpack and a questionable budget.
I had days that were beautiful.
I learned that everything in life is temporary. Everything. 
When I was in the Czech Republic, I had the most romantic evening with a sexy Colombian man in the old square in Prague. We went drink for drink with fresh, minty mojitos and bounced life stories off of each other in a rowdy bar, where the power went out three times. We stayed out until 5 in the morning, stumbling across the Charles Bridge together, making out at every brick wall. The connection and pulse was palpable. He introduced me to something that would later change my life: salsa dancing. He wrote and recorded a song for me and sent it to me later. I fondly replay our brief and special night together in my head.
Despite my condition, I dated frequently, though I’ve never felt compelled to be in a relationship, because I don’t really feel like anyone truly understands me, and I have always been very content and happy “on my own.” A life free of modern day relationships has been anything but lonely, anything but void, and NOT AT ALL what the doctors told me my life would be living with this condition.
Maybe I cannot have sex, or experience stereotypical pleasure, but I truly believe that my sex life is one of confidence, depth, and beauty. I learned how to confidently communicate about sex and express my likes and dislikes, what I could and could not do, when I was as young as 16. I learned how to be creative in bed. I learned that there are infinite ways to be intimate with someone. I learned that intimacy must always encompass mindful intention and passion, whether it is for two hours, a one night stand, or a lifetime. I learned that “sex” without intention is scary, dull, and abusive. I learned that many men don’t know what to do if you eliminate stereotypical sex from the equation, and they think good sex embodies very minimal foreplay. I learned that this is so boring that I would rather answer my work emails.
I dated and hooked up with men. I dated and hooked up with women. I found myself attracted to people younger than me and twice my age. I quickly learned that I loved the vibe and core of who someone is more than anything else. Superficial things didn’t influence my attraction and desire for someone. I craved (and still crave) people who can feel life deeply, who can understand me and I can understand him or her. I learned that humor, empathy, understanding, and most importantly, sarcasm, were absolutely irresistible. I learned that I have a weakness for accents on men, asses on women, and all French people in general.
When I was 24, I found ways to further manage my pain: clothes that were even more tolerable and made me feel beautiful (not these massive sweatpants anymore!), creams that managed my pain, soaps that didn’t irritate me, a diet that was helpful, regular alternative treatments, maya abdominal therapy for my interstitial cystitis, and a solid physical therapy regimen. My pain was not improving, but it wasn’t getting worse. I moved to San Francisco with my brother, and started a steady job.
I also decided to let go of my fear of physical activity. I would take it easy and try something aside from light yoga and penguin hobbling on my parent’s driveway. The thing that I tried was salsa dancing.
I am not going to get into details about the number of items that need to “go right” for me to make it through a night of dancing without pain. 
Everything from my clothing choice, creams, stretches, and drink choice must all fall in the perfect equation. There are many nights where I reluctantly skip.
That being said, I wholeheartedly believe that when I found dancing, I found the love of my life.
Salsa gave me a space where I could act out my sexuality in safety. Where I could connect and love my partner in that moment, feel the music deep in my bones, and completely let go. As a follow, I could stop thinking entirely and put my brain on pause. I re-learned to trust men after many bad experiences and violations. I learned to surrender my body and soul on the dance floor, and I never cared what I looked like.
Salsa is a space reserved for old souls. There are no phones to use as a crutch, no photos to take so you can post on social media about the “great time” you’re all having. It is a space where I could truly be a woman, and have an incredibly intimate dance with someone 6 songs in a row and know that our love and connection stays on the dance floor only (most of the time. LOL.). Salsa is in every sense my therapy. It’s my drive to want to heal my body, so that I can dance every day of the week and not have all these ridiculous limitations.
I often cry of happiness when I come home from a night of dancing. 
After all of these years of pain, I am so grateful to move my legs that are sometimes numb! I am so grateful to connect with my partner. I am so grateful to feel sensual, beautiful, and loved. It changed my life, and the gratitude never ends.
Some realities that are important:
1. Pain in an area of the body that is intended to evoke immense pleasure is a constant mental test. It makes other mountains feel like small hills. Nothing compares. Not my worst fever from contracting chikungunya in Haiti. Not my worst breakup. Not the time I was evicted from my apartment, or punched in the face by a homeless man. Or the 3 times I have totaled vehicles in car accidents. Not the times I have disclosed my condition to men and, without apology, acknowledgement of my pain, or empathy, they have expressed that they are no longer interested and that they are “sorely disappointed” that they didn’t receive what they were expecting. The frequency of these interactions has made me briefly lose faith in humanity, though it has never torn at my confidence. Not surprisingly, I never experienced this reaction from women. I was only met with compassion.
2. This condition has made me realize that feminism is more important now than ever before, and I have never been so proud to be a woman.
When I was in middle school, boys teased me and told me that my acne made it look like I had bruises all over my face.
 Now I am older and that is gone, and instead I am treated as a walking sex object. When do women win? I have been grabbed, harassed, threatened, abused, and stalked.
I seldom trust being alone with a man.
Many male doctors told me the pain was entirely in my head from the start. I was told to “toughen” up. I do wonder what would have happened if a man had reported the same levels of penile pain, and if his complaints would have been taken seriously the first time.
I am a woman and am therefore expected to be a sweetheart by day and a freak in the sheets by night. I am not going to feel any less feminine or sensual because I cannot have stereotypical sex.  I am so proud to be a woman and to fight for other women in a world that still roots so strongly against us, especially in healthcare. So here I am, telling my story, in hopes that it will encourage the other “Allys” out there to tell their stories, too. “When sleeping women wake, mountains move.”  
3. I often fight stereotypes of who people “think I am” versus who I actually am. Everyone struggles with this, pain or no pain. It is one of the hurdles of being human.
I am often passed off as a blonde woman who is easily impressed, bubbly, and spacy. This feedback is quite upsetting. I can’t escape my pain. Any conversation I have with someone takes up half my brain, while the other half is trying to shift my weight or body in a way that could potentially result in less pain. This does not translate to gullible, insecure blonde person.
This translates to a strong woman who wakes up every day to the biggest fight of her life.
4. Listening to modern day complaints is exhausting. 
Complaining to me about your sex life is like me complaining about my shoes to a man who has no feet.
It is true that everyone experiences various levels of life, but it is also true that people should be mindful about what they choose to complain about or dwell on. Life is short.
5. This story is not meant to glorify pain. I have had more “low quality” days than “high quality” days in my life, and this reality sometimes kills me.  I don’t want to be in pain anymore. I don’t want to experience throbbing clitoral pain if my leggings accidentally touch my skin. Three months ago, my entire body went numb and I could not feel my legs for three weeks. I stopped dancing and worked from home a lot. I took painkillers and eventually my feeling came back.
Last week, I had so much pain that I vomited, then fainted and hit my head on the mirror. My roommate found me on the floor when she heard the thud.
This is not a normal life, but it is a life that has taught me more about living than most.
6. This isn’t a romantic story. This is not a sexy story. But it’s a real one. When I look at my life, sometimes I wonder why I am so happy all the time. It is almost annoying, and people have said that I annoy them because of how much I smile. I technically have so much to be upset about, if that’s how you want to look at it. People pity me and say that I deserve to wake up and put on a pair of underwear, and walk around without feeling stabbing pain. That I deserve to have sex and make little mini Allys one day.
They say that I deserve to experience the full spectrum of life, that I deserve love and happiness.
What is so ironic is that I more than experience the full spectrum of life, and in a way, I often pity the people who tell me this, because I feel they are missing out on so much in this world. My entire life is filtered in technicolor.
When I am happy, I am euphorically happy, perhaps because of my journey with pain.
Maybe a bizarre part of me realizes: the only way to feel ecstasy from putting two feet on the ground and standing up in the morning, is to to be sedentary with numb legs for a full year.
What if the only way to uncontrollably cry of gratitude from something as simple as 3 minutes on the dance floor is if you know what it is like to not walk at all?
What if the only way to feel complete peace is to have 7 panic attacks in a row until you end up in the ER?
What if the only reason I feel so alive is because of the year I fantasized about gluing the pedal to the floor of my car and driving straight into a wall until there were silence?
What if the steamiest sex of your life isn't through touch.
What if the piercingly deep intimacy, romance, and connections I've had with others isn't possible for people without pain?
What if breathing air feels lifeless?
I was never told that 13 years under water is where you learn, feel, and evolve into what it means to be a loving, passionate, and soulful human being.
I was never told that the darkest part of the ocean is where you learn to take your deepest breath.
---- **More text below
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We live in an ironic world. People often know more about the Kardashians than they do about Malala Yousafzai. They celebrate and photograph weddings and their newborn children, but you never see professional photos taken of those who survive terminal illnesses. Who determines what is “celebration” worthy?
I want to celebrate people in the middle of the fight, not the people at the end.
I have always wanted to honor my journey with pain: my sexuality, trauma, freedom. My tenacity and power in being a woman. I’ve never had professional photos taken until one month ago, when Andrea Padilla fulfilled a dream of celebrating this journey through a boudoir and nude photoshoot. I did this photoshoot to show the rawest form of who I am in this moment of my life (we had our tricks so that I could tolerate the pain from lingerie ;)). I did not smile. This is about honoring courage, and carrying this strength with me into 2018. If I were hobbling like a penguin two years ago and spent most of my time in bed, and today I am dancing... who knows? I don’t know what can happen in the future. My life can turn in any direction at any point, and I am here to soak up each moment and learn with every step. 
My dream now is to dance salsa on the world cup stage. Life is unpredictable, but it is also boundless.
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THANK YOU:
To my amazing brother, Robby: Thank you for keeping me afloat, making me laugh, saving my life and then adding years to it, spending months sleeping on the couch to take care of me, and being there for me through thick and thin, even when I gave you so many reasons not to be there. I love you more than anything in the entire world and would be nowhere near who I am today without you. You make me a better person every day and laughing together makes life beyond worth living.
Sue: Thank you so much for your prairie dog driving skills to take me to the doctors, even though you took out a tree one time and we’ve had to leave many notes on people’s doors from destroying their bumpers in the hospital parking lot with your Denali. Thanks for never giving up on me. Thanks for your endless excel sheets documenting my symptoms and calling doctors all over the world. Thanks for putting your life on hold for me. Thanks for being one of the few people who believed me from the beginning. I would never have been properly diagnosed without you.    
Dad: Thank you for sharing many poisonous moscow mules with me when in a crisis. Thank you for believing me, and for believing IN me. Thanks for listening to my TMI stories. There is no way I can ever repay you for the way you have put my health first, but I hope to make you proud.
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queennicoleinboots · 4 years
Text
Working While PMSing Should Be Illegal Period
Ow. My head hurts. My back hurts. My eyes hurt. My stomach hurts. My vagina hurts. I think even my asshole hurts. I am in a rare form of dragon rage mood today.
My coffee spills everywhere. My new cat named Kissy who is a clone of my other new cat, Cupid, is running under me. Joebear, my poor husband, loved how Cupid looked, but her constant farting was too much, so he ate her after he made a clone of her. I personally want to feed this beautiful cat to Joebear because fuck this bitch right now.
"Get out of my refrigerator!!!! Get out of my dishwasher!!!!" I yelled my routine command like I did every other morning. But today, I added a special "As a matter of fact, get out of my house!!!!"
I drank my coffee and growled before Joebear woke up. I wish he would just go back into hibernation. I didn't want to hear his bear growl today. Normally, I loved my bear more than anything, but with the way I felt, love was a foreign emotion. I couldn't handle anybody. It wasn't anything personal against my wonderful Bae Beast. I just didn't like anything then.
He groaned and took his morning bear dump. I groaned and took a sip of my coffee. After a few minutes of hating mornings and everything else, I heard Joebear come down the stairs and Garfield run away from the routine growl of the bear.
He growled. I growled. "Good morning, Bae," he said as he went to fetch his jar of honey. I heard him slurping on it. I couldn't handle the noise.
"Go lay down," I said as I went upstairs to put on my typical housekeeper outfit. I wanted to cuss out that obnoxious, curly-haired, glasses-wearing beanstalk of a human being named Peter Double-You Parker that I had to work for. I couldn't believe I had to see that goofball, awkward guy again. He was the biggest pain in the ass that was ever created on the face of the Earth. Thinking about his smartass attitude that day made me want to get a running start of 20 yards before I punched him in the throat.
I needed a break from his terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad tantrums that normally made me laugh. My PMS is a killjoy. It makes me want to kill Peter.
Once I emerged from upstairs, Joe gave me a Tupperware dish full of fish and berries.
"Thank you, Bae. Now I am leaving. See you later, you Fat-ass. Good-looking. Beast," I said as I patted his black fur. I started playbeating him harder and growling.
"Owwwww! Starting to hurt!!!" he yelled before he growled.
I growled back. I put my food on the end table before Joebear and I started to wrestle. I was beating his ass. He bearhugged me and slammed me on the couch.
"What the fuck was that for?" he asked. "I barely have my eyes open."
"I'm PMSing, Bae Beast. I sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I just feel awful," I said as I stroked his fur. "I love you, Bae Beast."
"No wonder. Good Lord. Warn people!" he said before he ascended the stairs.
"Sorry, Bae. I got excited, Buh Buh Huhhhhhh!!!" I yelled. 
"Have a wonderful day, Little Bae," he said before I took my purse and my food and left.
I went to my car, put my stuff in it, closed the door, and called Peter's house.
"Hello," Peter said in his Southern, half-mumbly voice. Normally, I find his voice very funny, but today, I found it to be nails on an old-fashioned chalkboard.
"Fuck you and the ground you walk on," I said.
"Jesus Christ, Xara. What the fuck did I do this time?" he asked.
"You have a Y-chromosome, and I am PMSing. I want to destroy you and then I'd like to pull your intestines out of your asshole. I'd use them in a French dish if I am in a decent mood, but other than that, I will personally annihilate every cell in your body. I don't care if you are a 54 almost 55-year-old former pornstar or not. You must be destroyed!" I yelled over the phone.
"Hold on. I'm trying to logically figure out the order in which you do things. You would first have to tell me you were on your way," Peter said.
"Peter. I just threatened your life. Why would I tell you I was on my way?" I asked as I revved up my engine to leave this God-forsaken parking lot. I munched on some berries out of frustration and anger.
"Because you have to fucking work here, and I'd rather DIIIIEEEE than deal with a normal housekeeper. So boring. I'd die of boredom with another housekeeper. At least with you around, I can have an interesting, yet gruesome, death. I've wondered lately how it would feel to die to a demonic PMSing woman," he said with his loud, obnoxious laugh. I revved up my engine to burn rubber out of my parking lot. Peter. Must. Die. (And I must munch on fish and berries!)
"I'd love to do the honors, you irksome jerk," I said.
"Thank you. When are you arriving to personally rip my intestines out?" he asked.
"In 45 minutes, you annoying irksome jerk" I responded.
"See you then, you crazy PMSing bitch," he said.
"Fuck you," I said.
"Fuck you, too!" he yelled before he hung up on me.
I growled and sped onto the road. I was eating my fish and berries. I was making hangry growling noises as I ate. I looked like an angry Cruella De Ville from the 1960s version of 101 Dalmatians as I put the pedal to the metal. Actually, it's metal to the pedal, but Peter won't listen to that logic because he is a man. I am swearing and wearing steel-toed knee-high boots today, and my right foot is on the gas pedal, which is to the right.
Other drivers are some of the worst people in existence because some do not know where the gas pedal is. (It's to the right!) They cut you off or get into the next lane before the car in front of you has signaled to get into the next lane for at least four seconds. That shit should be illegal. It's fucking dangerous.
Anyone who drives like a typical Georgia driver should be exempt from the eighth amendment from the United States Constitution. They only deserve the most cruel and unusual punishment known to mankind because they are usually completely inconsiderate assholes. I'm so sick of their fucking pick-up trucks taking up more than the full lane. They should be required by law to go fuck themselves.
Speaking of pick-up trucks, some Confederate flag-waving asshole damn nearly bumped into me. See, this is what it is like driving in Georgia. These people think the highway is one big game of bumper cars. Listening to Chimaira, a heavy metal band, at a volume that nearly shatters the car windows is the best way to cope with Georgia drivers.
By the way, I replaced my car stereo with an aftermarket model, so my speakers are louder than ever. I haven't spilled my coffee on THIS stereo yet. I can't believe that happened to me a year ago when I ran into a parade on Highway 78. I wanted to kill Peter for making me sit in that ungodly traffic. I still want to kill Peter. He is an asshole.
To tell the truth, a few months after I replaced this stereo, I smashed my old one into a million tiny pieces in Peter's driveway. I also threw the larger parts directly at Peter's head while yelling, "EVERYTHING IS YOUR FAULT BECAUSE YOU ARE A BABY BOOMER ASSHOLE!!!!"
I couldn't wait to attempt to run him over with my vehicle. It would be the highlight of my fucked-up day to see Peter running for a dear life as I speed into his driveway while LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY.
So far, trying to run over Peter WAS the best part of my day. It was like the opening theme of The Simpsons where he was running away screaming while I was trying to run him over. I was ready to murder him for real and of course laugh hysterically as I do it.
"Get over here, you curly-haired ASSHOLE!!!". I screamed at him as I jumped out of my car and chased him.
"Fuck you, lady. You're crazy!" he yelled as he tried to lock the door on me.
I pounced on him and punched him in the arm. "You're a jerk!" I said with a huge deviant smile.
"Ahhhhh!!!!! What the fuck?!" Peter said as he tried to get away. He whined and slapped me away like he would do in a French fight. "What the hell?! Why do women do this shit?!"
"Because we bleed from the crotch and blame everything with a Y-chromosome for our problems!" I yelled. "Can I beat you with a can of Pete's Liquid Gold?"
"Noooooo!!!" Peter said as he finally got away. "Goddamn women are crazy! Kendrick is just as crazy when she bleeds. In my opinion, women are too much trouble!"
His mother was sewing in her room and laughing at the occurrences happening outside of her personal space.
Jamie wheeled out at first before turning around and going back to his room. "You're on your own, kid. I dealt with that shit for years with your mother. I am not going through it again," he said as he shut the door.
"Fuuuuuckkkk! Help me!!!!" Peter screamed as he ran to his office. "Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck away from me!" He screamed hysterically.
I laughed and threw a broom at him. I hit him square in the head and laughed again. "Asshole! That will teach you to be a male, you fucking asshole!" I growled at him before I went to do my job.
Peter threw the broom back at me and screamed "Fuck you!" before slamming the door.
I imagined myself throwing every object in the house at Peter's curly-haired head. Then, I wanted to vacuum the piece of shit in the vacuum cleaner thereby breaking the vacuum cleaner and sending Peter to outer space and the fuck away from me. Goodbye fucking Peter Wallace Parker, the biggest pain in the ass ever to exist on planet Earth.
When I mopped the kitchen and bathroom floors, I imagined myself shoving Peter in the mop bucket and using his tall body as a mop. His curls would be the mop head. How dare he have thicker and fuller hair than me that son of a bitch bastard!
When I was ready to vacate the premises to torment Mr. Williamson and Colonel America, I spoke to Godiva about my check. She was laughing so hard at today's hysterics that she gave me a bonus.
"My son and husband are normally great people, but when I bled every month, I wanted to destroy them. Thank you for causing them temporary pain and suffering. Have a nice day!" she said with a smile.
"Thank you, Godiva," I said before I left to torment more creatures with Y-chromosomes.
--------------------------------------------------
Mr. Williamson is much more reasonable human being than Peter ever will be. That man is happily married and causes no problems to society. He just runs his own library and tries to teach people the best way to live.
Jack the Crocodile, his new pet, was not pleased with me, though. He growled at me when I was taking out the trash.
I growled.
He growled.
I growled.
"GET OUT OF MY SWAMP! IT'S COLD OUTSIDE!!!" Jack the Crocodile screamed at me.
"GLADLY! I'M BLEEDING FROM THE CROTCH! GET OUT OF MY LIFE!!!" I yelled as I returned to work.
Things went relatively smoothly while I worked with books. I knocked over a stack and thought about Murphee howling. I felt like howling at the damn books.
--------------------------------------------------
I called Colonel America once I finished picking up those goddamn books .
"Hello?" he said and sounded drunk.
"How are you?" I asked.
"Drunk. Hahaha. You?" he asked.
"PMSing and on my way!" I exclaimed.
"Oh shit! The world is about to explode! Murphee!!! To the basement!!! We hide there for the night!" Colonel America screamed before he got off the phone.
I drove like a mad woman similar to Cruella De Ville from the 1960s version of 101 Dalmatians and ran over a few gentlemen before I arrived at Colonel America's house. I let myself in with the keys I had to his house.
Colonel America and Murphee were downstairs. When I was doing my job upstairs, there was no sign of those two. Colonel America was calling to Gabby, "Report to the basement! Report to the basement! Do not go upstairs! I repeat do not go upstairs! There is a PMSing Dragon upstairs! She will burn you!"
I laughed. Colonel America was the first one to know that I was serious business. I allowed him to live because he was the smartest man when it came to PMS, having periods, or angry women in general.
Gabby limped with his normal old cat ass gait and went in the basement with no questions asked.
When I finished my job, I laid on his couch and went to sleep. When you are bleeding from the crotch, the only thing you honestly want to do besides eat, bitch, and blow dragonfire at any living creature with a penis is sleep.
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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years
Text
Children of The Gods
This is a gift for my amazing friend @lesbabe6, who is also the creator of this AU! Sorry it took so long to write, babes, but I hope you like it!!
Also, note: I know jackshit about Greek mythology and the personality of the gods/goddesses, so please don’t kill me if I got their characterizations wrong. I didn’t go through That Phase, so I’m going off of what I was told and the limited research I did.
That being said, enjoy the Six demigod AU!
[Tour!verse]
———————
Pale slivers of sunlight bleed in through the high window at the center of the church hall, casting shadows that reach like long black needles across the floor. There, beneath the rays, Aragon kneels in front of the altar. In the light, she truly feels divine, clean, holy- the way God intended her to be. However, that feeling is snatched away the moment she steps out of the soothing, warm glow.
No matter how much she prayed, she would never be a child of God, as the Lord was not her creator. Nay, the blood that flowed through her veins was not like the people she was desperate to be kin with.
From behind, there is a loud beating of wings and the fluttering of feathers. Catherine of Aragon, daughter of Nemesis, goddess of revenge, squares her shoulders, but does not turn around.
“Still bowing in these musty buildings I see,” Says her mother, “My child, your wishes for complete mortality are foolish. When will you realize how blessed you are?”
“This is ANYTHING but a bless-” Aragon stopped, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, “I did not call you to fight. I need your help.”
“Oh?” Nemesis quirks a brow. She folds her white wings neatly against her back, intrigued enough to stay. “And what might that be?”
“I want to get back at the whore who ruined my marriage.” Aragon states. Her tone is bitter and the anger flickering in her eyes amuses her mother. “I want that bastard to suffer the way she’s made me suffer. That is what I request, mother.”
Nemesis hums, thoroughly entertained by the offer. She taps her chin, gliding over to her demi-spawn, who she gazes down on with sharp eyes.
“An interesting proposition.” She says, “You are quite upset, yes?”
“Yes.” Aragon nods.
“Then I shall do it.” Nemesis says, noting how Aragon perks slightly at her agreement. “However,” She halts her daughter’s upcoming celebration, “You know my conditions.”
“An eye for an eye,” Aragon murmurs. Her body tenses. “You’re holding me to that? Even though I’m your daughter?”
“Of course,” Nemesis says, “They’re my rules.”
“I am NOT giving you one of my eyes!”
“I never said it had to be an eye,” Nemesis points out, “I just need something in return for helping you.” She opens her wings, “Or you could always do it yourself. You are a demigod. Use that clever brain of yours, child.”
“The extent of my powers is in no comparison to yours!” Aragon says, desperation oozing into her voice, “Please, mother, you-” She sets a hand on the small bump on her stomach. “You can take my child.”
For a moment, what looks like shock flits across Nemesis’ face before she calms her features. However, her feathers remain moderately ruffled.
“Your...baby?”
Aragon takes a deep breath.
“Yes.”
Nemesis is silent for a long moment.
“If that’s what you truly offer,” She says, “then you have a deal.”
With a wave of her mother’s hand, a sharp pain struck Aragon in the stomach, causing her to gasp and stagger. Nemesis leapt forward and steadies her daughter, who is clutching tightly at her midsection.
“Is it…”
“It has been done.”
——————
“Are you scared?’
Hermes has never been the most fearsome of gods, what with those strange little wings he wears and him being one of the youngest, so Anne wasn’t too worried about facing him in her prison cell in the tower.
“Not exactly.” Answers the daughter of the merchant and herald god.
“You brought it upon yourself,” Hermes chides, as if his child didn’t already know, “I mean- using your powers to run around and sleep with other men before you could get caught!”
“I really am your daughter.” Anne smirked.
Hermes’ crossed arms tense over his chest. Then, he clicks his tongue, shook his head, and laughed.
“That you are.” He says, “However, I am unable to do anything about your current predicament. Your fate is now set in the stone.”
“So this is really it?”
“I’m afraid so.” Hermes frowns, “For now, at least.”
Anne raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Soon, child. Soon.”
——————
Being the daughter of the god of healing, medicine, music, and poetry, Jane was always very confident in her healing powers. She remembers once how she fixed the broken leg of a small fawn when she was just a little girl, earning a pleased hum from not only her father, but also her father’s twin sister.
Since then, helping others has always been at the top of Jane Seymour’s mind. Discreetly, she would mend the scraped knees of fallen children, regenerate the worst of a wounded soldier’s injuries, soothe the burns on a servant’s hand after they accidentally touched the hot metal of a steaming kettle.
That being said, she wasn’t really that scared of her pregnancy. Yes, she heard about the mortality rates of child birth, but she had faith in her powers. She was constantly using the magic on her baby to keep them healthy inside of her womb, and she could always heal herself if something went wrong. The fear was quelled.
And yet...
The birth was painful. More painful than Joan had been expecting. She was so focused on pushing and breathing that she barely had any chances to use her magic to keep her health stable. And when an opportunity did come about, she either filtered the healing sensation into the baby she was worried for or used it to fix the hand of the poor, young lady in waiting she was grasping onto so tightly the bones may have broken.
Hours passed. Then days. Even after the baby is born- a beautiful, bouncing boy named Edward- Jane struggles between the lines of life and death. If she isn't unconscious, then she’s struggling to breathe over the pain or begging to see her son. Her pleading requests are always shut down.
Her magic is but a faint flicker within her. She has tried to mend any damaged flesh (the nurses were saying her vagina badly tore down to her rectum) but the power is either very weak or not working at all.
The latter seemed more likely.
“Am I dying?”
At first, it seemed like Jane is talking to no one, as the only person in the room with her is the young lady in waiting she had been clinging to while giving birth, who was asleep in a chair in the corner of the room.
But then a beam of sun cut through the thick grey storm clouds outside, bathing the bedroom in the glow. A man appears before her very eyes.
“I'm afraid so, my dear,” Apollo frowns, “You overused your magic on your son. Keeping him alive and safe.”
“Is be okay?” Jane asks, “Is he-”
“He's fine, sweeting,” Apollo soothes her. He crosses over to the bed and takes one of her frail hands, using the other to stroke back her sweaty bangs. “Perfectly healthy.”
Jane nodded weakly. A fresh wave of pain hits her and she screwed her eyes shut.
“Can I hold him?” She wheezes out, “My son... Please...please let me hold Edward once...”
Apollo frowned. He gently strokes his thumb over her knuckles.”
“I'm sorry, my sweet. I can't do that.” He says.
“But-”
“Rest... Rest...”
——————
“What you have done is quite foolish.”
Cleves laughed and splatters of blood come out of her mouth. She looks up at her father, Mars, and grinned, despite the gash in her stomach.
“You are my father.” She says.
“That I am,” Mars says, “But you have ruined your mortal vessel. You're going to die.”
Cleves grunted and tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but is halted by the pain. Mars presses her back down into the damp grass, his hands surprisingly gentle.
“Do you hate me, father?” Asked the dying woman.
Mars pursed his lips and brushed Cleves' blood-spattered cheek with a tender finger. For a moment, he almost doesn’t seem like the god of war.
“I could never hate such a great warrior,” He says, “You have made me very proud, Anna. And now, you die an honored death.”
Cleves smiled up at her father. She feels him ease the sword clenched tightly in her fingers out of her hand and she breathes a shuddering, but relieved breath.
“I'm glad.” She whispers. Her eyelids grow heavy.
“One day, you will raise your sword again.” She hears Mars say. His voice is fading out. “But now is not the time.”
——————
Katherine opens her hand and watches a small rainbow weave and flow around her fingers. Watching the colors sparkle and flit around in the air became one of the only things that bring her comfort ever since she was wed to the king.
Well, there was one other things...
“Is this what you wanted for me?”
Iris, goddess of rainbows, appears in a veil of colorful sparkles. Her beautiful features are creased with worry as she crosses over and kneels beside her young daughter.
“I’ve always imagined you being royalty,” She says, “But this treatment you get? Never.”
Katherine sniffles softly. “Wh-why is this happening to me? I-I...”
“I know not.” Iris replies sadly.
She went to stand up, but Katherine clings tightly to her hand and her heart melts for her child. She pulls the girl into her lap and placed a soft kiss to the top of her head.
“When you grow up,” She began, knowing stories usually cheered Katherine up, “You will be a beautiful young woman. Powerful, too.”
“Will I still have my powers?” Katherine asks.
“Well, of course, silly girl,” Iris chuckles, cuddling the girl closer and pressing a loving kiss to her cheek, making her giggle. “You powers will be even more amazing than they are now. You will even be able to shoot beams of light!”
“Woah!” Katherine lit up, her eyes glowing with wonder, “Really?”
“Really.” Iris confirms with a nod, “You will be so strong, my darling. The most amazing demigod the world has ever seen.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
A year later, Katherine believes she was lied to when she is executed. But little did she know...
—————
“As much as I love your passion for my art, all this work you’re doing cannot be good for the baby.”
Cathy perked up at the sound of the voice and twists around to see her mother standing there. She can’t help but smile a little.
“I’m free from Henry,” She says, “I’m going to write.” Her small smile twists up into a smirk, “You worry over me?”
Athena, goddess of wisdom, seems a little ruffled. “Of course,” She says, “I worry over you and the child.”
Cathy set one hand on her six-month-pregnant bump, chuckling lightly. Her mother crosses over and gently touches her belly, feeling the life flutter within her womb.
“What an energetic little one,” She muses.
“They love to kick me in the ribs,” Cathy laughs lightly, “Tell me: Will they have god blood?”
“I am unsure,” Athena admits. She sets her palm flat against the top of Cathy’s stomach, feeling a kick against her hand. “They may. But not half like you are. Less.”
Cathy nodded and turned back to her writing, but Athena grabs her shoulders.
“Ah-ah.” Athena tuts, “To bed with you.”
“But- Mother!”
“Come on,” Athena hauls Cathy to her feet and began guiding her to her bed, “You need to rest. You may continue tomorrow.”
Cathy huffed, but a small smile tugs on her lips as she climbs into bed. She gazes up at her mother, who is watching over her closely.
“You don’t have to stay.”
“I need to make sure you don’t get up and go work whenever I leave.” Athena says, thinking one step ahead. “Just rest, my dear.”
With another small huff, Cathy closes her eyes and began to drift off. She feels her mother gently touch her belly and mutter something, then disappeared.
Thomas lays down beside her.
——————
Hermes watches his youngest child pace about her rooms with a pitiful look settled on his features. His worry ran deep- the girl has barely been sleeping ever since her sister was put in jail and tears seemed to be constantly flowing from her eyes.
“Can't you do something?!” Maggie suddenly exploded, startling Hermes slightly. He calms himself quickly.
“I'm sorry, Margaret,” He says sadly, “There is nothing to be done.”
“But- but you're a god !” Maggie cries, “You should you- should be able to do something! You can save her!”
“I cannot,” Hermes says, “I cannot interfere. She brought this upon herself.”
“Don't say that.” Maggie snarls, stalking up to her father, “Henry wasn’t treating her right! She had every right to do what she did!”
Hermes held a hand up. “You must calm yourself, little one.”
Maggie took a step back and sniffled. Fresh tears filled her eyes, making Hermes’ heart clench for his young daughter.
“I don’t wanna lose her,” Maggie whimpered, pressing into her father’s arms and sobbing into his chest, “I-I need her!”
“I know, little one, I know.” Hermes murmurs, stroking his daughter's hair to try and comfort her, “I don't want to lose your sister, either.”
Maggie shoved Hermes away, her eyes alight with rage and anguish.
“You are a GOD! You- you could save her! You could get someone else to save her! What- what about Hades?!”
“Absolutely not.” Hermes says instantly. He sighed sadly and gave Maggie a sympathetic look. “My child, I'm sorry. I cannot do anything for her. Your sister's soul now lies in Hades’ hands.“
Maggie stares at him in shock before gritting her teeth.
“You're useless.” She seethed before running out.
——————
Joan’s legs burned as she ran through London, spurred forward by the shouting of guards behind her. Their weapons were out, primed for her blood. It was only fair, they thought, since she had killed their queen.
It was a horrifying revelation. Sure, she had a problem with properly regulating her body temperature and the chill she naturally gave off, but had she really been so cold she froze Lady Jane Seymour to freeze to death?
“Run, little snow fox!” Her father cries in her ears, “Don't let them get you!”
Joan ran faster, desperate to get away. Behind her, the clack of a metal contraption cracks loudly- agony explodes in Joan’s right arm.
She howls in pain. She stumbles, falling down to one knee, scraping it against the cold asphalt, but it’s nowhere near as bad as the crossbow bolt sticking out of her arm.
A hoard of guards round the corner. Their swords and spears are up. Joan could already imagine her hot blood dripping from the gleaming blade.
She doesn’t want to die.
Joan thrust her hand out and a freezing ray of frost shoots out from her palm. The ice spreads across the ground and large, sharp icicles rise up to impale several guards through the stomachs and suspend their bodies in the air. Those who didn’t die scream in shock, rage, fear.
One man passes through the frozen spikes and rushed Joan with his sword raised, but he’s too slow. A chunk of ice nails straight through his throat.
People- not just guards, now- screech in terror. They cry in horror about the beast before them, the monster that was slaughtering them all like pigs.
That makes Joan freeze. She looks around and was sick with the fact that the ice has spread and menacing icicles gut people who weren’t even going after her.
She was killing innocents.
The spikes continue to grow at her output of distressed emotions that filter into her magic. She tries to get them to stop, but the frost doesn't listen. One woman cries out for God to save them all.
Her body is ripped by two icicles.
“Snow fox!” Her father yells, but Joan can't move. Scalding tears drip down her cold cheeks and she doesn't even realize it.
A daring soldier rushes at her. She doesn’t move. She craves the end of his blade.
But before her throat could be cut, a man lands in front of her in a freezing whirlwind that startles the guard away. A blizzard rages with just a mere beat of the mysterious man's huge purple wings.
Boreas, god of the north wind, now stands before them all.
Joan stares up at her father with tears in her eyes. He looks back at her pitifully before calling off the ice growing through the streets. The bodies they were lanced in the air fall to the floor into pools of blood and guts.
Boreas speaks no words to the terrified mortals. All he does is save them from the frost, then grabbed his daughter and flew away.
——————
The smell of ash hung heavy in the air. A grey haze leaks out of the mouth of the cave, whorls of smoke wreathing around the trees and twisting into the sky. Amidst all the heat, Maria wipes her brow, but sweat continued to stream down her face regardless of the action.
“Very good,” Hephaestus, god of the forge, hums, watching his daughter create a great, gleaming broadsword in the smith he conjured up in the cave. “Give it a bit more heat.”
Maria nods. After grinding her teeth to make friction in her mouth, she breathes out a bright golden plume of fire onto the blade. She watches the metal glow orange, then brought her hammer onto it, shaping the weapon into perfection.
“Wonderful!” Hephaestus cries, his deep, loud voice booming through the cavern. He plucks up the sword, not affected by the heat of the hot steel, and holds it up to his eyes, admiring it. “This is perfect, my girl!”
“Thank you, father,” Maria says, puffing out her chest in pride. Thin lines of smoke wind out from her nostrils when she breathes out. She laughs when the god ruffles the top of her unruly, ashy hair with one of his large hands. “And thank you for this. For taking time out of your ‘godly duties’ to come do this.”
Hephaestus chuckled deeply. “Anything for my only daughter.”
Maria smiles and then turned back to the forge.
“So, what’s next?”
——————
The deal Hecate and Aphrodite made was surprising to many gods, as they were the last two they expected to get together. However, Aphrodite was not one to back down, so she obliged to Hecate’s proposition. A mere two months later, the goddess of love and the goddess of magic had their hard work paid off.
“It’s a girl.” Aphrodite whispers. In her arms she cradled the newborn goddess- an absolutely tiny little girl with tufts of white hair and dark, gleaming eyes whenever they opened. “She’s got my looks.” Aphrodite adds with a chuckle.
Hecate snorts. She carefully lifts the small bundle that was her new daughter and her twin snakes slither down her shoulders to observe the little thing.
“Great magic runs in her blood.” She says proudly, “What a magnificent goddess she will be.”
Aphrodite takes the baby back, rocking her gently.
“Don’t get too attached.” Hecate reminds.
Aphrodite sighs. “I know.” She pauses, “We’ll have to send her to the mortal world soon, won’t we?”
“That was the plan,” Hecate says. “Name her, at least.”
Aphrodite gazes down at her daughter, who opens her dark eyes with an adorable little yawn. One of her tiny hands grabs onto her mother’s and she giggles softly.
“Elizabeth.”
——————
It’s over five hundred years later when the earth of London shifts with supernatural power.
England’s demigods rise from the Underworld once again.
And, among them, a young goddess who has long forgotten her power awakens from her deep slumber.
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koolforlife · 7 years
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I Think God is a Woman
So I looked up the definition of Feminism, and it said its a collection of movements and ideologies aimed at defining, establishing, and defending equal rights for women. I don't know what made me look up that definition, I think it was the fact that I just watched Serena Williams play against her sister in the Australian open finals, and she won her 23rd major. I have been watching the Williams sister's for over two decades and they inspire me to want to be great and use my greatness as a tool to inspire others. I remember a few years ago Venus used her notoriety to fight for women getting payed the same as men for their tennis matches. With a lot of support and hard work her goal was accomplished and Women got paid the same as men in the tennis world. It makes you wonder why Women ever had to fight for equal rights and pay anyways. It makes me wonder why in this society we call our women Bitches, we disrespect our women. We hit and we hurt our women. Why has society worked so hard to make women feel inferior. Like the saying you hit like a girl, or you throw like a girl. The perception for some men are that women are not as strong as men or women can't do the same things as men. We have even been convinced that God is a man. One of the worst stories I have ever read was the Adam and Eve Story. If you never heard the story Adam and Eve was suppose to be the first two people that God created. In this fictional story Adam was created first by God and then used one of Adams ribs to create Eve. Adam and Eve were able to enjoy all the beautiful wonders that the earth had to offer but it was this one tree called the tree of life that they both were forbidden from eating from this tree. So one day a snake came and convinced Eve to convince Adam to eat the apple. Now remember that God told Adam and Eve that they couldn't eat the apple from that tree or they would suffer grave consequences. So eventually Eve convinces Adam to eat the apple. Once Adam and Eve eat the apple that was when sin was created. Both Adam and Eve was kicked out the Garden. Basically that was the end of man kind. Because before eating the apple Adam and Eve only knew how beautiful and amazing life was. After they eat the apple they got to experience the other side of life where you died and felt pain. Why I hate this story is basically the bible is trying to say women are responsible for why mankind experiences sin and goes through the pain that we go through. I think the story of Adam and Eve gives off the perspective that women are manipulative and make men do things that they shouldn't do. I disagree with that whole notion.  
I think the reason why society tries so hard to control and manipulate women is because a lot of men in this world are scared of how powerful women really are. You see I think that God is a women because look how beautiful this world and universe is. Look at the beauty of the stars in the sky, look at the beauty of earth and all that it allows us to do on this planet. God created a sun and a moon. Look at the human body and how it was created, look at how beautiful mother nature is. All of these things I mentioned sounds like it has a touch only a women can provide. History has taught us what men do with power, we exploit and oppress people. Millions of people have died in the name of power and territory due to ignorance. Men seem to lose sight of the big picture and only focus on winning instead of whats best for the Human Race. Society has never convinced me to think anything about women because I was raised by a strong Black women from the south that took me in when nobody else would. I saw the strength of my great grandmother growing up,  and in my eyes women have always been equal to men. to be honest I think that women are stronger then men because they give us life. They carry us for nine month and then push us out of their vagina. Then they raise and nurture us until we are able to take care of ourselves. I know some men are like what, ain't know women stronger then me but ladies forgive those men and remember that you can only do better when you know better. The struggles that women go through can only be matched by the struggles people of color go through. Over 500 years have been spent on oppressing, exploiting and holding down both people of color and the entire women demographic. Lets remember that without women we wouldn't exist so how about we start respecting our women. We all have mothers, sisters, aunt's, cousins that we want to be respected and valued. But we can't just respect certain women in our family and disrespect other women outside. We have to respect all women and we have to create a culture of young men respecting young women. We as men have to stop abusing our women, we have to stop verbally disrespecting our women we have to get back to a culture of respecting our women.
In order to change the culture of how we treat our women it also has to start with women taking better care of themselves mentally, physically, and spiritually. Society has created a mindset of artificial beauty that can be purchased with the right amount of money. Women have to get back to owning their worth and not settling or waiting around to be defined by anybody but themselves. It's nothing wrong with expressing your sexuality but also have some respect for yourselves at the same time. Walking around half naked with another persons hair in your head doesn't make you beautiful. Spending ten thousand dollars on getting bigger breast or getting a bigger booty doesn't make you beautiful. Wearing makeup to make you lighter when your really a darker complexion doesn't make you beautiful. Using your body for financial gain doesn't make you beautiful. Letting men disrespect your worth isn't beautiful. Like I said I think God is a women so that means all women should act as if their gods as well. I'm not saying be perfect, I'm not saying don't express your sexuality, what I'm saying is live in a respectful manner so you can always demand respect. Having a high self-esteem is built through having great parents, respecting yourself and others. Having an open mind, not judging people and never getting comfortable in your comfort zone. Great women are not born over night, take my Aunt for example, she has two masters degrees, she's a beautiful mother that respects herself. She has been a teacher for over thirteen years and this year is her first year as being an assistant principle for one of the best public schools in the United Sates. My Aunt is super intelligent, she worked her ass off to get everything that she has and she didn't take any short cuts. she had a mother and father that believed in her and pushed her to be her best self. She believed in her self and she is doing great things. My point in sharing that story is any women can be great you just have to work toward it. I know that it's many women that come from broken family structures, don't have the proper support and resources to do the things they want to do. I know that their are a lot of single mothers that didn't sign up for being single mothers. I know its a lot of women that are getting abused physically and mentally. I know it's a lot of women in this world that are still fighting for equal rights and equal pay. I know that this society we live in does everything in their power to make it seem like men are stronger then women. I also know that no matter how much adversity women go through like the late Great Mya Angelo said you shall rise. I just want you to know that I see your pain Queen and things will get better. I thank every women that looked adversity in the face with a smile and found a way to bring their dreams to life and be a great mother. Shout out to all my single mothers that went to work during the day and then went to school at night to create a better life for their children. Shout out to all the women that have been support systems for men that didn't appreciate and understand what they had. Shout out to all the women that support their significant other through thick and then. Shout out to all the women in this world that won't take no for an answer. Shout out to all the women that got their hearts broken but still believe in the power of love.
I look at it like this, if women magically disappear so do men. So all their problems should be our problems. We need to create a culture of men that respect and support women. We need to create a culture where men don't abuse women. We need to create a culture where men stand up and fight for women. It shouldn't be a Feminist movement or a Black lives matter movement, how about we all come together and fight for each other. You know that the government and the people that are controlling the world would rather we continue to have separate movements where the men fight for the men and the women fight for the women but thats how both men and women are being controlled. We need to fight for each other and we need to stick together. One day I want to have two daughters and I want them to turn out like Serna and Venus Williams, I want them to live in a world where they get treated equally and respected. I want my daughters to feel like they can do anything because they can. I don't understand why we are still fighting for things like Women's rights or Black lives matter movement but just remember that if it wasn't for my ancestors we wouldn't have the rights we have today and thats for men and women. People died to give their lives so we could have the freedoms and opportunities we currently have today. If our ancestors didn't fight and die for our freedoms I assure you that we wouldn't have them. So we have to do the same, it doesn't matter if we are fighting for Women rights or the Black lives matter movement. If we as a race don't come together to make it better things will only get worst. I'm going to end this blog with the verse from keep your head up, it's a song by 2Pac Shakur that is needed in this day and age. We need to get back to respecting our women and treating them like the Queens they are.
"Some say the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
I say the darker the flesh then the deeper the roots
I give a holler to my sisters on welfare
Tupac cares, if don't nobody else care
And uhh, I know they like to beat ya down a lot
When you come around the block brothas clown a lot
But please don't cry, dry your eyes, never let up
Forgive but don't forget, girl keep your head up
And when he tells you you ain't nothin' don't believe him
And if he can't learn to love you you should leave him
Cause sista you don't need him
And I ain't tryin to gash up, I just call em how I see em
You know it makes me unhappy
When brothas make babies, and leave a young mother to be a pappy
And since we all came from a woman
Got our name from a woman and our game from a woman
I wonder why we take from our women
Why we rape our women, do we hate our women?
I think it's time to kill for our women
Time to heal our women, be real to our women
And if we don't we'll have a race of babies
That will hate the ladies, that make the babies
And since a man can't make one
He has no right to tell a woman when and where to create one
So will the real men get up
I know you're fed up ladies, but you gotta keep your head up"
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