The Lost Plum…

So a trending topic right now (and lets face it always) is healthcare and all that covers.  I am not here to talk about the issues, tell you my slant on things, or even give an opinion.  I will say at the end of the day I don’t know all that is on the table, in fact people might say I’m actually ‘ignorant’ to the topic, I tend to be so with most political topics.  I think differently then most kids who grew up in a “political” home. I hit a point where I just “stopped listening,” and grew tired of debating long ago. (I get the jest, know how I feel, and move forward)

Now, as we all know I’m not American, and although I do buy health insurance in this country I still have most of my medications sent to me and filled in my homeland. Call it cheaper, call it a travesty in the health care systems, call it whatever you want to. I call it convenient. I don’t have to deal with it. Mama Plum deals with it and sends me wonderful care packages.

I received a wonderful depressing care package from Mama Plum the other day.  I say depressing because it was medication and that’s about it. Oh I think there was a pack of gum thrown in there, but other then that not a typical “care package”

Inside the package was another envelope. My first thought was CASH! YES! But then I notice the note on the outside of the envelope.

“ I just found out that [   ] makes you more fertile. WATCH OUT! BE CAREFUL!  That is the last thing you need to deal with.”

And what was inside the envelopes? Why condoms of course! What else would it have been!?

I think I’ve reached a turning point of sex ‘talks’ with my mother.  I knew it was all going to be down hill from here.

I’m a nice roasted plum right now, after last weekend of baking in the sun. A girl’s weekend with 9 girls getting on planes (not all together) equals alot of magazines. I was actually very impressed that no ones magazines over lapped, quite a feat I must say.

As I crisped up in the sun (even with my old lady hat and 75spf) I stumbled along an article on taboo bed/sex practices. And one “taboo” activity that 53% of women partake in is: owning a sex toy.

I didn’t know sex toys were so taboo they have them everywhere! I’m surprised Whole Foods hasn’t come out with a line yet.  But then again, I can’t really talk because this plum falls into the other half, that other 47%. I do not own a sex toy of any kind. Nope, don’t, not for me, I never have. To me the best part of sex is someone else. Period.

But I’m in a minority, and I am always been told I don’t know what I’m missing.  My usually response is “have you meet (insert a name)? Cause you’re the one missing out!”  Te he he…it’s funny, but not because there usually isn’t an (insert a name) * sigh *

Now the magazine also had a little test with picture. “Is it a sex toy or isn’t it one”

The test was pretty easy, and we all had a little laugh over some of the contraptions. But then we all cringed and wrinkled our noses when we saw the next item.

A battery powered loofah! Not a sponge or a nice soft puff or anything like that.

A loofah!

A loofah!? Are you kidding me? They have to be kidding me! Loofah’s aren’t soft in any way shape or form, in fact they are meant to scrub off dead skin (and in some case scrap off not quite dead skin). Why do you need to make that prickly little guy vibrate?

I am from now on officially making the reason I do not own a sex toy that I refuse to be in the same group of people that masturbate with loofahs!

SIDEBAR: while at the spa during our ritual bath this weekend I couldn’t help but ask what everyone was doing with their loofah’s.

FACT: I contributed GQ and Rollingstone…talk amounts yourselves on that one!

Either I watch a lot of crappy girly TV shows (no comments) or there are just too many pregnancy test commercials on. Has there always been this many, or am I just noticing them now?  Hmm.. Well here is a fascinating fact that most of the commercials want us all to know:

1 in 4 women misread an at home pregnancy test!  Are you serious! 1 in 4! Holy shit friends!  1 in 4!

Now granted I’ve only ever used an at home pregnancy test once in my life, and I didn’t buy it, and sorta got pressured into it. One of my roommates in university used to have a stack of them (like she was an hour late and she would whip it out!) I used to joke with her “to bad they don’t have a bin of Preggo-Tests at Bulkbarn!”  (right beside the gummy candy….!)

I’ve never really had a ‘scare’, in fact I’m starting to think that maybe I’m not even fertile!   But I assume if I did have one I would walk myself over to a Duane Reade (they aren’t hard to find) and fill my basket up with every pregnancy test box I could get my hands on.  And do them all!  This is what bad girly TV and movies have taught us, you need to hydrate and pee on that stick till you know for sure!

So how in the hell do 1 in 4 women read this wrong?  I mean it’s either yes or no, positive or negative, pregnant or not pregnant.  (some actually print the words so you just have to know how to read)

Is it just me, or does reading a peed on stick seem as easy as a bad knock-knock joke?!

Knock-knock

Who’s there?

It ain’t Aunt Flo!

1 in 4 women need to CHECK THEMSELVES, cause you’re a hot mess, and the fact that you are actually getting laid makes me shake my head.

(reason #___why I’m single: I can read instructions  while peeing on a stick ?)

I’ve been having neck/back issues for the past few weeks. I have no clue what so ever what I might have done, but am settling on the whole “I am old” theory.  I’ve seen my acupuncturist and I saw a doctor. Here in lies my problem.  I got some very nice pain pills/ muscle relaxers from the doctor (very nice!). However, I am not a pill popper, at least not any more. I get scared just taking a Tylenol, infact I don’t think I even own anything in that type of variety.

About 6 years ago I was in a car accident (well I was hit by a car to be precise) and tore my knee up something worse then Seals face, minus no blood! (Yeah ponder that one for a bit….and laugh at the thought of your heroine L.P being thrown through the air in slow motion!)

After, I ran out of prescription meds I lived off of Aleve for months. And when I say lived I mean I was popping an average of 8-12 pills a day (and I’m totally lying it was way more then that), and running around like a crazy kid doing about 50 projects on top of trying to finishing my last year of university. (And drinking too much booze and had an unhealthy addition as well to mountain dew and corn pops cereal……..now that I type this I shake my head at the mess I was)

I seriously don’t know how I didn’t die, and in fact I blame that for my heart problems (although all my doctors say it isn’t true) I made the decision, (wait, lets be honest for a minute here, my parents made it) I would go home (to the middle of nowhere) and do physiotherapy and go painkiller free. (I had some hard days! I have no idea what it would be like if I was on ‘actual’ drugs)

So, in another attempted to not take a pill (cause I get dependant easy) I took a trip over to my ever-wonderful naturopathic doctor (an actual doctor, not someone like a herbalist I don’t do those quakes)

And we are talking and then:

Dr.D: ” Are you having regular sex?”

Plum: “I don’t think this happened during sex? But I did notice it after…”

Dr.D: ” oh no, I mean maybe you just need to relax, get your body heat up and work it out that way.”

L.P: “I feel like it might make it worse.” (Uncomfortable laughter)

Dr.D: “Hmm….how come a nice girl like you doesn’t have a boyfriend?”

L.P: “Who knows (eye roll)…you’re the doctor”

Dr.D: “Do you want to talk about it, let it out?”

L.P: “no it’s cool, I’ll just blog about it or something.”

Dr.D’ “well it’s good to have some sort of constant in your life.”

So, thank you to my blog. You don’t get me all sweaty and worked up, but you just might keep me from popping some pills and seeing a therapist.

FACT: I am actually really good at given anything up cold turkey. I get alittle bitchy for a few days, but it’s the best way for me to get anything out of my life.

There are two things my mother says you should never talk about in public.

Your Lady Parts and

Your Lady Issues.

So on that note, I’ve never really understood PMS. In fact, I mostly believe it’s all in ‘our’ heads! I’ve never had problems at that time, never craved mass amounts of chocolate, cramped up, and as far as I know have never turned into a raging man hating bitch.

I will admit to the odd headache and my sometimes my insomnia flies into full fledged not sleeping. But in three days (usually two) ALL (from pre to post) is done/gone/over/ready to start again.

So today (day 2) in my lack of sleep state as I sit cramped (the only cramps I ever get) on the train headed to a meeting, I feel sorry for the poor girls who suffer for days and apparently turn into man-hating-food-hoarding-darkside-bitches, and I really really feel sorry for the ones who use this time as an excuse to do the above. (Even more so when they are verbal about it: As mama-plum would say,”noone wants to hear about your lady issues!”)

But despite all my sorry feelings, the one person I really don’t feel sorry for today is THIS GUY!  (High-five buddy)

(reason #___why I’m single: Maybe guys find the ‘not pregnant’ high-five, and celebratory shoot uncool)

SIDEBAR: mama-plum also feels strongly about not using the word “bastard” in public, due to the overwheling number of children born out of wedlock.

FACT: mama-plum also still offers to buy my ‘lady products’ and send them to me, because no young-single girl should be seen showing her “lady-issues” in public.

(reason #___why I’m single: All the good guys have seen me buying my own “lady products”, instead of me getting my mother to do it.)