I was lucky enough to contract chicken pox as an adult. I'd recently had a tetanus booster shot (Yes! Me! Vaccinated!!) because of some stupid job I'd accepted before changing my mind because fucksake, did I have rocks for brains? St Vincent de Paul is a worthy charity but I'd just quit a better job in order to study, what in tarnation was I doing accepting this lesser job only a week later? Altruism has its place but it didn't appeal to me at that particular point in my life. I had IT qualifications to pursue and then never use! So I got the shot, quit the job before I even started it, and woke up a day or so later with a couple of weird looking things on my stomach that rapidly multiplied until I had about a fuckbillion of them all over my torso. "Well shit", I thought to myself, "I'm having an allergic reaction to the vaccination (I know! Me! Vaccinated!!) I'd better go back to the doctor to get some anti whatever it is to reverse this here hoagly making shit before I turn into one giant carbuncle". So I went and complained about the stupid reaction I was having to the stupid vaccine and the doctor raised his hand in the universal signal for Would You Shut Your Whine Hole For A Minute? and when I did, told me to go home and go to bed, I have chicken pox. I was all, The Fuck? But I don't feel ill! And he was all, ha ha ha. You will. So I went home, erupted some more and waited. I never felt ill though, possibly because I rock.
They tell you that chicken pox itch and they're right, it does, but before they crust up to their itching glory, they're like giant pustules of ouch. The Pox hurt, people, and they come up everywhere. Literally. Though by some stroke of luck, I only got one on my face, and even that was only on the edge of my lip and had kind of erupted under a pimple anyway. But everywhere else you can think of, nudge nudge wink wink? Yes. My god. Suffice to say that the only good thing about having those fuckers all over your business is that the searing pain on in and around your personal space makes you forget about pain everywhere else.
An aside, if you or anyone you love gets The Pox, fuck that ridiculous noise about calamine lotion. In fact, fuck all the ridiculous noise you ever hear about anything that's supposed to stop an itch. If you get so much as a mosquito bite, go buy yourself some Vagisil. If you get The Pox, you make sure you get enough of that stuff to fill the damn bath tub and then you dive right on in. Let it be known though, that my knowledge of Vagisil lies only in my Pox experience because it's for feminine itching and my feminine does not, has not and will not, ever, thank you very much.
ANYWAY, the pharmacist story.
It was some thoughtless poxy motherfucker making contact with me that got me into this predicament, and while I didn't want to cause anyone else to ooze so magnificently, I needed help, so I hobbled into the local pharmacy and, keeping my pustules to myself and my voice low, explained my angst to the pharmacist. He cupped his hands around his mouth, forming a makeshift megaphone, and yelled out his recommendations so that the people in the next STATE could hear about the LESIONS!! on my GENITALS!!.
In more recent cooch related news, I may or may not have just had my first womanly time in over two years. My body is acting like it has, what with the cramps and the way the entire world turned into a bunch of the most irritating fucks ever, but it's also acting like it hasn't, given the minute amount of, uh, um, graphic evidence on show. The argument for includes the loss of the last five pounds left over from having Daniel (that would not budge and that had a decided pre menstruall feel about them lasting for the entire last year) in the two days between Wednesday and Friday, the argument against includes the hooters that haven't morphed into the Touch Me And I'll Kick You In The Nuts phase. Is that how the monumental return goes? Not so monumental after all? I did wonder if I ovulated a couple of weeks ago, not because my fertility monitor told me so, because we know how well that went the last time I used it to predict my fertility or lack thereof, but because you don't want to know why, suffice to say, two words, Natural Family Planning, which is in actual fact, three words, ones that are again suffice to say, why I wouldn't be at all surprised if this was my womanly time. What does surprise me is the lack of time in this particular instance of womanliness.
Crap! The time! We're heading over to my brother and SIL's and we're meant to be there in an hour and I'm still in my jammies with unwashed hair and a sleeping child in the room next door.
So there it is, a whole entry about my bits. Enjoy.