My Temperamental Ovaries

So it turns out that a couple weeks ago when My Body was Angry, it was because an ovarian cyst had burst open. On top of that I also had a miscarriage. Sad. I cried. I didn't even punch anything.

Monday sucked too. Primarily because I had to get emergency surgery to save my left ovary. I had an 8.5 cm ovarian cyst chilling out in my insides. So basically the cyst was 1 inch larger than a tennis ball. Ew. No wonder I've been feeling bloated.
My doctor, who was also the surgeon, had to cut my ovary in half to extract the entire cyst. Supposedly it will eventually fuse back together and be fully functioning. Hopefully.


Anyway, I had 5 important realizations:

1. Its a good idea to go to the gynecologist once a year. Don't assume that since you are 26, can run a 7.5 minute mile and eat healthy that you are immune to everything. I always ditch out on the yearly exams because I don't like people getting familiar with my girl parts. Little did I know that when something goes terribly wrong a small village of hospital people become familiar with them.

On Monday, 8 people saw my vagina and not one of them took me out to dinner or sent a thank you card.

2. If you have crazy cramps with bleeding, sweating, and you collapse when you try to walk, you should go to the Emergency Room. Lying on the floor for two days does not prove you are hardcore and tough. When you call your doctor they will make you go to the ER anyway.

3. Nurses are angels. I was proud of myself for keeping the hostility at a minimum when I came out of anesthesia. I even said "please" and "thank you", like "give me drugs right now, please", "thank you for more drugs" and "these drugs are pleasing".

4. I hate surgery. Luckily I only have 3 little incisions, but they still look pretty gross. I also hate not being able to recover in 2 days like I expected. I can run a 7.5 minute mile.... recovery in 2 days? Piece of cake. Not really.
I have decided that in the future I will avoid surgery at all costs.

5. I want kids.

P.S. The doctor took pictures of the inside of my body when they were removing the cyst, and showed me after surgery. It was awesome but gross. amen.

Lobster Pants

One thing you should know about me: I have always been extremely creeped out by lobsters and crabs. They look like insects on growth hormones. They also marinate in poop, decaying flesh and other fowl things found at the bottom of the ocean. I get the heebie jeebies when I think of them. On the other hand, Jared LOVES seafood. This became quite an issue while we were dating.

Back to the story.

Jared and I got married in May 2005. Having been a manager at Victoria's Secret I had taken advantage of the 40% off discount. I had this sexy white outfit complete with feather boa and sequined shoes ready for the big wedding night marathon. I knew the feather boa would add that touch of class that one would expect from a girl like me.

Little did I know Jared had his own outfit planned. My mom (who is an amazing seamstress) and her friend Carrie conspired with Jared to make my wedding night a little more lively.
With plenty of hot pink spandex my mom and Carrie huddled over a sewing machine giggling like 11 year old girls.

On the big day, we snuck out of the dinner reception shortly after desert was served. We rushed home. Jared and I stepped into his apartment that was now ours. There were candles and flowers everywhere. So romantic...

As I locked myself in the bathroom to dress up in my sexy white number. I took my hair down and wiped off my makeup. After I was satisfied with my level of hotness, I slowly but sexily stepped into the bedroom, and came face to face with this:

Yep. Jared in lobster underpants. Made by my mom.

amen.

Meet Rainbow-Loving Heather

A few things you should know my colorful friend Heather:

• She has been rocking pure awesomeness since 1984.
  

• We met as angst ridden teenagers.

• Her parents basement was decked out in American Indian paraphernalia. Dream catchers and detailed paintings of pissed off Navajos masked the wood-paneled walls. Rumor had it that the house was built over a ancient graveyard. This only added to the shenanigans at her parties.

• The devious look in her eyes is no mistake. Neither is the smirk. She is usually up to something.
  

• Heather is synonymous with "good time". Be aware that the said good times are usually peppered with inappropriateness on all levels.
  

• Too smart. Her life would be a lot easier if she was as dumb as she pretends to be.
  

• She makes me giggle like a schoolgirl.
  

• After a brief hiatus following high school graduation, my love for Heather was renewed when I started a job at ARUP Blood Labs. My new boss had recruited me herself at Victoria's Secret for my exceptional boob measuring skills. On a tour of the department I was surprised to see one of my favorite people chillin out in a cubicle. As Heather and I got all giggly and excited to be working together, our boss eyed both of us with reasonable suspicion.
  

• As a true Native American lover would, she drove me to the U of U or TRAX when I couldn't drive. And by couldn't drive, I mean my license was suspended for too many speeding tickets. My level of laziness could not have reached it's height without Heather enabling it. For that I am grateful.
  

• Many of my dirty jokes are inspired by her. If you hang out with her wear a diaper or a huge maxi pad. It is probable that you will pee your pants from fits of laughter.
  

Lastly:

• We are familiar with each others breasts. Don't' ask.

Inappropriateness Makes Everything Better

My last week sucked worse than one of my frequent adult acne breakouts. One bad thing after another plagued my Spring Break. I HATE going to the doctor worse than I hate Anthony.

After multiple visits I realized I was getting more action from my gynecologist than from Jared. Sad.
I was feeling really sorry for myself then I remembered how awesome I am and felt better.

Plus I remembered these pictures:


These were taken at Dachau Concentration Camp in Germany. A somber place.






Good thing Jared and Lear-Bear took a pee right in the camp's bushes. Classy location boys.


(I will admit that the camp had closed by then and the bathroom was locked.)

This seems to be a reoccurring theme with the Scott men. Jared's brother, Baby Brian, heeded the call of nature in St. Lucia:



Like I said, inappropriateness makes everything better.

Touché

After years and years of teasing, my sisters Rachel and Sara finally got me.
My family was in town and we drove up to Morrow bay to spend the night. We saw a 4 person surrey bicycle and had to rent one. There was no way Jared and my dad were getting suckered into pedaling us around, so they hung out at the pier. My mom and 2 sisters rode out to Morrow Rock with me to see the huge waves.

While driving back, I thought it would be funny to squeeze myself into the front of the surrey. After 5 minutes and some serious body contortion I was in the child seat.

I knew Jared would shake his head in disgust/embarrassment so we had to pedal the bike past him with me looking like an idiot. After we showed Jared and my dad how starved for attention I am, I started the process of extracting myself.


That is when my ugly, bratty, B.O. having sisters started pedaling. With my mom cracking up in the back row, I was paraded down Main Street. Loud cackles from pre-teen Rachel and Sara drew attention from hoards of tourists lining the sidewalks. Feeling like a douche bag, my face faked a smile to pretend I was in on the joke, simultaneously reaching back and punching them in the boobs.
After the humiliation of being displayed as a giggling 2 year old on a bike ride, I was finally allowed to wrestle myself out of my 15 minutes prison.

Touché my sisters. Touché.

But be afraid. Seriously you guys. amen.

My Body is Angry

Last night and all day today I have had the worst cramps of my life. Instead of sleeping last night I rolled into a ball on the floor in Jared's office and watched Survivor reruns.
Here I was curled up in a ball while all my female parts did their best to kill me... ok, maybe not kill, but they were definitely trying to piss me off, and it was working. At one point I almost threw up on Jared's flip flops, I was so lightheaded I couldn't even walk to the kitchen to get juice.
It was Park Day today too. I am on spring break so I could have gone and hung out with some cool girls from my church and tease their kids. But no, my body had other plans.

I hope you are feeling really bad for me.

I got really sweaty and actually considered a home hysterectomy. I thought maybe I could call Rasputin up to come over and use his skills in wizardry to help me.

After a few hours of feeling sorry for myself, Jared came in a put me in bed.
I still couldn't sleep, so I hobbled into the office again. I searched the Internet in hopes of finding home remedies for when your uterus hates you.



I found the following suggestions:

Take Birth Control.
(Good idea if you're not trying to get knocked up, but Jared and I have been practicing furiously.)

Soak in a Hot Bath.
(Have you seen my bathtub? It's from the 1970's and I know for a fact that the old nuns have been naked in that very tub. Though I have cleaned it, the thought of pressing cheeks with nuns makes me shudder.)

Take Advil or Midol.
(Done. But thanks for nothing over-the-counter meds.)

Regular Exercise.
(I already do that and look where its gotten me, rolled up on the office floor like a scared rat.)

Use a Heating Pad.
(Jared and I can't even afford these Blue Steve Madden shoes I want really bad, do you think I want to spend my shoe fund on a boring heating pad? No. I don't.)

Have Sex.
(Yeah, that sounds awesome when I am bloated, breaking out, nauseous and can't even stand up straight. Great Idea.)


Thanks for nothing Internet. I'm calling Rasputin. amen.

Meet Shakey Jake

• He is my older brother. He loves to violate societies norms. (For photographic evidence see previous post.)

• Before getting his picture taken for a LDS mission application, I dared him to let me do his hair. He agreed. Behold:

• He was once fooling around with his wife while driving and then ran over a homeless man. To smooth things over Jake bought the maimed Hobo a six pack of natty light and new gas station sun glasses.

• He has buttloads of class.

• He once made a guy so mad that the guy punched him in the face. Jake was so stoked that the guy ended up paying for new glasses. He modeled them for me.

• When he sees people singing in their cars he honks to get their attention then claps for their performance.

• He is taking flight lessons and mistakenly believes I will ride with him. Not even his wife will ride with him.

• He thinks his continual farting is impressive.

• When we were young, my parents would leave us to babysit our partially handicapped little brothers and sisters. Every time he would beat me up. Every time. If he was feeling extra generous, he would beat everyone else up too.

• He has a beard. On his face.

• Every time I ask about his new baby he says she is "cute as sh*t". Just like I told you... buttloads of class. amen.

Recipe for Awesome

1 brother's wedding to Stephanie in May 2007.
1 sparkly pink gown from Salvation Army.
2 patent leather stilettos circa 1985.
187 pounds of unapologetic Jake.

Mix together then add the coup de grace of all dares. triple-dog. No battles.


Slowly add 2 disapproving stares from Matthew and his new wife, then simmer.


Complete with an extra-sassy bridesmaid with a NRA membership, and sprinkles.

Garnish with beautiful spring flowers.