Take this uterus and shove it! You ain’t welcome here no more!
Remember that song? Take this job and shove it? Yeah, that’s how I’m feeling about my uterus tonight.
We had a good run. She gave me two amazing little girls. She flaked on the last one. I’m still bitter about that.
So, my uterus has been being naughty again for the past few days. Of course, she chose her full on mutiny to coincide with my first ever red carpet press event. And of course, it happened when I was completely unprepared and 3000 miles from home. Yes, this is a TMI post. If you are squeamish, don’t read on. Leave now. Run away. It’s going to get bloody awful in just a few seconds.
Basically, my baby maker hates me. I don’t know why. I’ve been perfectly nice to her. I’ve always taken care of her. I’m gentle but firm. But she’s decided she wants to throw a tantrum. She’s suddenly throwing out medical oddities like a surprise uterus full of blood. Fibroids that grow with love. One that is full on prolapsing and blocking my cervix and another one growing into my uterus and wreaking havoc. Last but not least, uterine polyps. It’s a party in there and I’m just the poor sucker whose house is being trashed.
She has no shame. Oh, she’ll do it on a plane. She’ll do it on the train. She’ll do it in a fancy black car service. She’ll do it on a tour. She’ll do it while you’re dancing. And of course, she’ll do it when you’re in a very public place with a whole bunch of very important people because my uterus doesn’t care who you are or what you’re doing. She’s the boss of you.
And oh yes she did! She did all of that and more. She didn’t care. She waited for me to be vulnerable, away from home and she tricked me one last time. She got me good. She ninja style snuck up on me and karate chopped me in the ovaries.
My uterus threw a full-on mutiny. She knows that today she’s outta here. Getting evicted and she’s not going gently into that good night. She is bitter. It’s not me, it’s definitely her.
As if that my situation was not embarrassing enough, she made me revisit my teen years. Thank goodness for that jacket tied around my waist and dark blue jeans. Being a woman is hard, even after 30.
I wanted to crawl into a hole and die but I didn’t, because I’m a grown woman. I went on about my business. I did the damn thing… as well as you can while asking everyone in proximity where the restrooms are. You thought you lost all modesty when you gave birth? Psst! Nope, this was worse.
Did I mention how wonderful and understanding every single human being I met was to me? They all tried to help me. Yep, humans are amazing. My uterus not so much.
While you’re reading this post, I’m in the hospital burning this mother down because I’m done with this 78-day hostage situation that my uterus has had me in.
I’ve got one last thing to say to her, and one thing only, “Bye, Felicia”.