Maybe some of you have noticed something missing here at the Odd Couple (AH HEM). Well I'm back, (hold your woo wees! please), feeling violated, overwhelmed and grateful for a couch to work it all out on.
Specifically, I'd like to shoot the sh*t about the most wonderful event in the history of the universe... when the medical madman rolled me over, snapped a condom on his herculean hand and deliriously announced: He had to check my mudchute (eww, I know. But let's focus!).
Before I could whip out the pink rule book -- and show him violation 1: no one enters through the cellar Vaseline or not! -- the defilement was over with.
After his burglary into the pooh warehouse, Doctor Dignity Snatcher of the ER said: "Yup! She needs to be admitted to the hospital."
So you see, I'm not sure how I feel about a stranger knowing what the insides of my small intestines feels like. But I'm not sure that's less humiliating than having my boyfriend help me do the clenched cheek shuffle to the commode every hour or so.
I did learn one thing from this (fecal) matter... It was fertilizer spread on our relationship. When the going got tough, he went and got the pooper scooper!
Now that is my definition of sentimental sediment!
(Has your man seen you at your worst yet?)